| Title: The Little Pelvis That Could Author: Melissa Rating: Um, PG, I guess. Feedback: Please can I have some? Fandom: *NSYNC Pairing: None really, but implied lamb love. Archive: If you want it, ask. And my site most definitely. Status: Done. It's short. Category: Slash Disclaimer: If you don't like funny shit, don't read. If you don't want to hear about Justin and Lance's crotches, don't read. If you don't like slash, don't read. Warnings: None, really. See above. I think it's pretty funny. Notes: This was written real time in the chat Sunday night. Thanks to those who witnessed it. There has been no beta because Becky graduated today and is out partying, as she should be. Any and all comments are welcome. Many thanks to my muses for ceasing their constant sex so that I could write a story. *grin* Without further ado, here's the story. "I can't do it! Leave me alone, go away, go fuck a tree for all I care, but I CAN'T DO IT!" Frustrated, Lance stood panting helplessly in the middle of the studio, glaring alternately at his reflection and at JC. "Lance, chill dude. Just relax and let it..." "Joshua Scott, if you even think about telling me to let it flow, I'll throw you out the window." "Alright, alright. I'll just leave you alone with your dancing inability then. I give up. You're a lost cause." JC wordlessly gathered up his belongings and left the studio, closing the door a little too loudly for Lance's taste. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Lance muttered to himself, glaring angrily at his crotch as he began flinging himself around the room in desperation. When he'd finally exhausted himself, collapsing on the floor, he'd reached his wit's end. There was obviously no help for the fact that he was thrusting impaired. Wade was going to pitch a fit when he saw that night's performance. * * * * * * "What do you expect me to do about it, JC? It's not MY pelvis that isn't cooperating," Justin moaned. JC paced across the spartan hotel room, a forgotten cigarette dangling from his lips. "Look, I'm going to lay it on the line for you. We all know Lance has a crush on you. It's fucking obvious, Justin. Even you couldn't have missed it. All I'm asking is that you put a little more, energy, so to speak, into your performance tonight. Maybe Lance will be inspired or something." A faint blush crept across Justin's face at the thought of being the thrusting muse of Lance's crotch. His own crush on Lance was his most carefully guarded secret. "Well, I guess, you know, if it'll help the performance, I can do it," Justin replied in an extremely vain attempt at nonchalance. The blush was not unnoticed by his bandmate. "Justin, are you holding something out on me? That's not cool dude." "Huh? What?" Justin blustered, startled out of his amazingly X-rated daydreams. JC laughed as he stubbed out the remains of his cigarette. "Nevermind. I'll see you at soundcheck. Enjoy your fantasies." * * * * * * The crowd roared as the five men moved into their first dance number. Lance was doing an amazing job of appearing calm and collected as he thought to himself, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..." But he couldn't. Not even a little. Wade was standing in the wings, and everytime Lance glanced his way, he got a disapproving scowl in return. "What the fuck am I going to do? I can't fucking thrust. My dick may as well be nonexistent for all the good it's doing me up here. Ugh." Across the mammoth stage, JC shot Justin a Look and gestured frantically toward Lance with his eyes, simultaneously playing the frantic crowd for all it was worth. That was all the cue Justin needed. Immediately, his performance went into high gear. Specifically the performance below his navel. Every thrust had twice the power, twice the conviction, and four times the innuendo -- and it was all aimed directly at Lance. Not suprisingly, the teenies went insane, raising the noise level to something approximate to a jet takeoff. Lance happened to glance over at Justin, figuring he'd removed an article of clothing as per the usual, and almost fell on his face when he caught sight of the show happening in Justin's pants. Then...IT happened. Lance's pelvis gained a mind of its own. It swiveled, it shook, it wiggled, ground, humped and thrusted Lance across the stage and right up front. When the song finally ended, the stadium rang with shrieks of "Lance! LANCE! LAAAAAANCE!" Lance threw himself on top of Justin and screamed "I knew I could do it! I just couldn't, and then I looked at your crotch and it was like all of a sudden my pants were on fire! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" "Um, Lance? Dude, the crowd can hear you," Justin laughed. "Fuck the crowd. I thrusted," Lance replied. "I have to thank you." "Kiss him," Lance's pelvis seemed to whisper to him. And he did. BACK |