Date: Wed, 20 Mar 2002 08:14:56 +0000
From: J-dot M <catsfan1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Come On Down

Come On Down
Written by JM

-- Disclaimer: Uh, simple.  Not 18, not interested in a relationship between
two males, not open-minded, not a fan of the pop genre, not sure what
fiction is, not a interested in anything written by JM, DO NOT READ! --

** This is a just small piece of the BSB/NSYNC saga.  It's just a songfic.
This is number eight of eight.  It is in no way a start to another series,
so I ask that you not think of it that way.  Understood?  Missundaztood?
It's all the same now a days.  At least I think so. **

	Two years ago, when he wasn't much out of the ordinary, no one could ever
tell him that he'd fall in love with a Southern gentlemen with a past that
could rival General Hospital's best storylines.  No one could ever tell him
that this man would be famous and beautiful.  And he'd never believe anyone
that would tell him he'd find other qualities in him outside of his gorgeous
green eyes, smooth pale skin, and easy Southern drawl.

	He would easily dash the thought and continue believing he was destined to
be a businessman that dated and just that.  Dated.  Never connected.  Never
became attached.  Never find a boyfriend because his mother thought it was a
lost cause after the first three boyfriends.  If you could call them that,
actually.

	Of course, he did one better.  He found a guy with a past.  He found
someone that he knew loved him, adored him, and cherished him more than most
would while still maintaining a struggling friendship with two of his
ex-boyfriends, whom just happened to be married to one another now.  Oh
yeah, he's good.  Good for it all.

	But the honeymoon was still there.  There were moments like this where he
knew it was worth it all.  Moments where the wine was sweeter than the
strawberries that awaited him somewhere else.  Kisses were more passionate
than anything TV had to offer and smiles were shared throughout the whole
ordeal because they loved each other just that much.

	And he was a good boyfriend.  Well-deserved without a question.  His mother
told him that a good man would know to cherish a man like him.  And Lance's
mother told him that no one could be as lucky and blessed to have someone
like him in his life.  He knew that, always did.  Never needed to be
reminded about it.  Well, sometimes.  Sometimes he objected to the idea
because what was the point in saying it if the one man he wanted to savor
all that he gave was still hung up on things he didn't have anymore?

	He'd have to ask Lance someday.  Ask him why everyone said it and he never
felt it until Lance said it?  Never knew the meaning or worth of the words
until moments like this where Lance just wanted to love him, touch him, be
inside of him until they both devoid of the voices they needed to scream out
in their fits of passion.

	If you need a little tenderness
	Can't find it nowhere else
	If you want a little something sweet
	You just come to me
	If you're hungry for some love at night
	I'll fix you up just right
	There's a tender place just down the way where you can stay
	And I'm sayin'

	His thoughts revolved around feelings like this.  They were just a
satellite in Lance's atmosphere.  When hands sculpted his muscles and molded
his body into shapes that felt just right, he couldn't escape the gravity of
it all.  He was just pulled in.  He was removed from that sudden reality
that this was just lovemaking, just a good feeling that lasted for awhile
and dried up when the morning was over and the day began.

	"Oh, Lance." He knew no one could say those words so genuinely.  He checked
the past resumes.  Not Nick.  Never Nick.  That was just not possible.  He
was sure Nick was just sex; liquid, solid, and everything in between.  It
was never pure and no one had to prove it.

	JC had a way of making Lance believe that the words were endearing instead
of the fool's gold that they were.  Just another to play the strings, strum
the guitar until Lance believed that JC wasn't just stroking his ego
instead.

	When he moaned, when he tightened his fingers in Lance's damp mane, it was
real.  A defining moment in their physical relationship.  It made it clear
that he didn't have to put on an overdone show to express what was felt.  It
wasn't necessary.  It wasn't dramatic.  It was love.  What a concept for
Lance.

	"A little faster." He could be instructive.  He could tell Lance everything
in a twist of his hips or a hand on one of Lance's cheeks.  But, more or
less, he could be vocal if Lance needed because he wasn't afraid.  Not
anymore.  Not when he could look in his lover's ghostly beautiful eyes and
see a world that he knew didn't exist before.  Lance made it simple.  He
made sex easy.  He made love pure and without disillusion.  And he had yet
to figure out why JC and Nick ever let Lance go.

	Come on down where the water tastes sweet
	Dive into my ocean, bring your love to me
	Come on down where the loving feels right
	Door is always open, open all night
	Come down
	Baby, won't ya come on down

	"Fuck." He never found a reason to just let it all go.  Justin told him he
never would when he'd truly found someone he loved.  Justin told him that he
never found a reason to just let Brian go, not for good.  Joey told him he'd
never find a reason to bail on Lance because the past can't only haunt you
if you believe it's dead.  He didn't believe the past was dead, just ashes
in a Mason jar, waiting to be poured out.

	He was quiet at times.  When Lance moved slowly, when Lance kissed his neck
and squeezed his hips a little harder, he stayed quiet because it felt like
a warm bath and tasted like candy.  All of it.  He just moved with the
motions, changed his position a little because he knew Lance liked that and
he knew he liked what Lance was doing.

	And sometimes, when it was just too good, he'd cry.  He'd let a tear slip
out of his eye, hold back a sniffle and wait until Lance saw it all.  It was
the only time he let Lance see it all.  Other times, he cried by himself or
with Justin because Justin understood.  He understood the competition, the
constant struggle to be better, to be greater, to make his lover forget.  It
wasn't easy to do, never was.  To just release it all and be vulnerable, but
Justin never told.  He swore he wouldn't.

	Yet, he sometimes thought, just maybe, Lance knew.  Lance knew the whole
time and let him have his moment.  Lance didn't take it away from him
because Lance had been there.  Lance was that to Nick and he doesn't think
Lance ever got past it.  He doesn't think Lance had his moment and for that,
he loved Lance.

	I can take you where you need to go
	Take you there nice and slow
	To a place where feelings run so deep
	You just run to me
	I can lead you to a special kiss
	Fulfill your every wish
	There's a place I know just down the road where you should go

	"Kiss me." He always begged, never asked.  It felt better that way.  The
tongue was sweeter that way and the music in his head increased in volume.
His body got weaker when Lance kissed him like that, all lips and tongue
without the perversion or pornographic bullshit.  He doubted that Lance
kissed JC like that because he was tentative the first time.  He was so used
to routine and rehearsed kisses.  He was used to perfection and didn't know
that there wasn't a such thing.  He was trying to paint over a
turpentine-soaked canvas and it was funny.  Lance was so skillful, yet so
naive.

	"Harder." If he lifted his legs just right, Lance could reach all of him.
Lance could be inside and he'd keep him in his back pocket when it was all
over.  He'd feel it all day while he was at work and while he was on the
phone with Lance.  It would be like fuzzy teddy bears at the carnival and
bowls of chocolate ice cream on rainy days.

	If he thought about it hard enough, he could remember all the endearing
things Lance did for him.  The picnic on the beach, after the sunset, on his
birthday.  He could remember the rumple white sheets under their glowing
bodies the morning Lance recited the lyrics to his favorite love song for
him.  The weight of Lance's body on his lap in his office chair when Lance
brought him lunch.  The candles, the wine, the harmony of some Tony Bennet
song when they made love on their anniversary.  He could remember it all and
remember it best when Lance was touching him just like this.  When he was
offering his body to Lance and Lance was taking advantage of it, just
reminding him why he was there for Lance as more than just a lover.

	I can take you to where the love flows like wine
	And I can show you my deepest secrets inside
	And if you take a chance where I wanna be
	So come here and get close
	And give me what I need the most

	"Oh, yes." He hated when his eyes fell shut, but they did when Lance
pinched his nipple with that much care.  He wondered why MTV would create a
whole show about his feelings.  He wondered why he hadn't been dismissed
yet, but he remembered his competition wasn't there in a physical-tense.
Just mental and emotional.  And he was battling, sometimes succeeding,
sometimes falling back without a time-out card to rescue him.

	He had a habit of playing second fiddle to his inhibitions.  He never
forced Lance to kiss him when they were about to come.  He never threw Lance
back and rode him to climax.  He never told Lance that he hated when Lance
took phone calls from Nick right after they made love.  He never fought to
get things his way because he wasn't sure if his way was the right way.  He
just let it all happen.

	"Faster." He likes to purr things in Lance's ear when it feels just right.
He moves his leg, raises it a little higher because it gives Lance a better
angle and it feels damn good.  He thinks he can hear drums cascading some
kind of commanding melody in his ears and sweat clings to him like dew to
morning petals.  It's liberating and it sets him free.  He thinks of
Jefferson Starship and some 80s melody that keeps him breathing when Lance
touches him, gropes him in places he's sure he wasn't supposed to feel
heaven in.

	Somewhere between Lance nipping on the skin covering his collarbone and his
eyes rolling back, he thought of how he still had that country boy.  He
still had him in his life.  Arms around his body, kisses on his lips, words
of serenity, and smiles that were only meant for him.  He didn't have to
play pretend.  Charades was never his strongest suit.  But Lance was.  Lance
was something he could wear, show-off and still know that it was the quality
and the price of this love that made him look good.  He wasn't no Nick
Carter and could never try to be.  Cocky wasn't his style.  Fuck Joshua
Scott Chasez.  He was better.  He was different.  He was caring.  He was
Lance's.

	"Lance." He knows his voice isn't the best in the world, but during sex, he
could give Patti LaBelle a run for her money.  Just a few strokes, a quick
jab, a swirl and he hit notes that Christina Aguilera never registered.  And
when it started to slow down, when he felt Lance getting closer and closer,
he dropped his tone a few octaves and stuck to heavy breathing because it
was all he could concentrate on.  He's nothing but pants, low moans, sweat,
and a tasty stickiness.

	"I love you." Just the rush, the sensations weren't enough to degrade to
words.  They still had meaning, had a purpose to him.  They helped to rid
the sound of Cher blazing through his ringing ears and they washed away
those firecrackers exploding behind his eyes.  It eased him into a place
where nirvana had a purpose and hedonism was king.

	And that was all he needed to remind himself that Lance was his was that
kiss on the temple and those eyes telling him without words.  He was stuck
in the moment and he had no desire to fall away from it.  He didn't want to
come down and Lance was determined to keep on afloat on the clouds.

	If you need a little tenderness
	Can't find it nowhere else
	If you want a little something sweet
	You just come to me
	If you're hungry for some love at night
	I'll fix you up just right
	There's a tender place just down the way where you can stay

					The End.

--- Story inspired by: "Come On Down" (D. Warren), performed by TLC ---