Date: Mon, 05 Aug 2002 18:17:05 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boy-bands) Needing You chapter 19

Again, I'm sorry for taking forever to write this. Let's just say,
depression, work, family, travelling - those are just a few things that
have held me back lately. I'm getting through it though! Please ignore
occasional trangeness, it's result of weird moods and light editing!

Oh, and by the way: I get lots of ideas for the story from readers, but I'm
lousy with names so please don't take offense if I don't always remember to
give you credit! Just know that you've been an enormous help, making my job
a lot easier!

This is for Izzy, my dearest - please feel better soon! (and not just
because I'm a total wreck without you), Rob and Dan (good luck for the new
place), Writer Boy (thank you so much for continuing 'JC's Hitchhiker'
again!), SumSum (hope you enjoy(ed) the trip hon), Korandda (h&k sweetie!),
Metra, Peter, Ryan, Myoshi (thanks again for the sweet pics!), Julienne,
Trish, Bethany, and all the other wonderful people who have graced me with
their kind and helpful comments. Hell, it's to everybody who takes the time
to read it! Enjoy...

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true
sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned. Adult (m/m)
content, probably foul language, don't be illegal, stuff like that. Any
likeness to people personally known to me is either purely coincidental and
unintended, or not in any way malevolent.

WARNING! Um... Mildly pornographic and stuff. *blush* Yes, I know that
sometimes you like it like that, but I just wanted to warn you people!
Sheesh, bite my head off, will you? :)

Now, on with the long expected...

NEEDING YOU
CHAPTER 19
by Neqs

"Oh baby..." Lance's eyes fluttered closed as his lips formed a perfect
'o', his breathy moans interspersed with tremulous sighs, filling the room
from floor to ceiling with a dreamy haze until he felt like he was floating
on air. Other than his own body, which was tingling with sweet, thrumming
sensations, the bed underneath him was the only thing in the room that felt
real. Well, except the phone he clutched to his hear with a sweaty,
trembling hand, and the unbelievably sexy voice in the other end of the
line.

"Yeah, you like that? You like my big hot cock plunging in and out of you,
don't you babe? You're such a beautiful slut, James...my beautiful slut!
Can you feel me in you?"  The voice was raspy and rough with lust; saying
things that made Lance want to roll over, bend over, anything. As it was,
the distance between them made that impossible, but if he couldn't have the
real thing, the voice on the phone and the vibrator he'd found in his bags
would do. And how!

"Mmm, yeah! You feel so good! You fuck me so good...No-one can fuck as good
as you! Ooh, like that, oh fuck yeah!" Lance was close, oh so close, he
couldn't stay still as his body tried to feel everything at once, basking
in the exquisite sensations but wanting more, much more.

"Don't cum yet!" The order made Lance whimper in helpless protest. It
turned him on even more, bringing him perilously close to the edge, but he
wouldn't disobey it. He tried to calm down, but couldn't keep from
squirming and panting, almost sobbing. Not because it hurt or anything, or
maybe it did, but it also felt so incredibly good he wasn't sure if he
could survive it.

"Em, please...I can't help it, I need to come! I'm yours, you know it, all
yours and nobody else's!"

The low voice with its soft, sexy accent babbling and begging for relief
made Marshall groan, but he bit it back. This was all about Lance. Well,
maybe not all about him.

"What are you?"

"I'm- ahh, I'm your slut, your beautiful slut! All yours to fuck and love!"
Just saying it made Lance flush with naughty pleasure. The words and the
images they created sent sparks to his brain and from there to every cell
of his body.

'And fuck of that wasn't a perfect answer,' Marshall thought, taking a deep
breath to steady his voice.

"Oh yes you are, baby! And now I want you to switch that vibrator you're
fucking yourself with to level two, okay?" Lance complied quickly, sensing
the change in his lover's voice. 'Oh please!'

"Now...I want you to touch yourself. You're free to cum, do it for me
babe!"

Lance's eyes rolled back in his head as his senses were overwhelmed. His
body was exploding through the ceiling, and there was the voice, whispering
maddening, intoxicating things into his ear.

"Mine...so beautiful...sexy as hell...all mine...I could fuck you
forever...my sweet, fuckable lover..." That did it for Lance, and he
erupted with a yelping sigh that made Marshall moan in the other end of the
line and come all over his chest.

Though still short of breath, Marshall was faster to regain coherence than
Lance. "You okay babe?  Was that what you wanted? Talk to me, James!"

Gulping for air on the other side of the country, Lance blinked at the
ceiling. He could have sworn he'd shot right through it just a minute ago,
but there was no trace of his trip to the orbit there now.  Strange. Then
he remembered the phone.

"Em, hon, that was fantastic, and exactly what I wanted! Thank you so much!
It was even better than last night," he panted as he stretched his body
languidly, practically purring from sated bliss.

"It wasn't too rough for you?"

"Oh no, well, at some point I thought I'd die if I couldn't come, but it
was so good. And the things you said! Your mouth is so deliciously dirty
all I want to do is wash it with my tongue, and then get it dirty
again...That sound good to you, hon?"

"Mmm, it sure does!" Marshall sighed. "I miss you so much, babe."

Lance's wicked grin melted into a soft little smile as the mood changed
from playful to serious. "I miss you too sweetheart, but talking to you
helps a lot. And it's only a week more, right?"

Marshall crossed his fingers. "Yeah, just a week."

* * *

Lance frowned down at his laptop. The site he'd wanted to visit was down.
Again. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. For a moment he
entertained the prospect of a worldwide conspiracy aimed to prevent him
from getting what he wanted. The theory was short-lived, though, because he
couldn't go longer than a few seconds without thinking of all the things
that were right in his life, like Marshall for example. The memory of their
latest phone call made him shiver in pleasure.

To make their forced separation more bearable, they'd set out to have
amazing, out of this world quality phone sex. 'With wonderful success,'
Lance thought to himself smugly. As one could see from his lyrics, Marshall
was verbally very talented. He could use words just right to bring Lance
maximum pleasure, even though some of them made the Mississippian blush
afterwards.

It was also very fascinating how they learned new things about each other's
preferences and fantasies during their 'talks'. Nothing turned Lance on
like dirty talk and mild domination scenes, as long as they were set in a
loving framework. Marshall on the other hand loved Lance's voice in
general, and specifically hearing him talk about sucking him, licking him,
belonging to him.

>From their conversations it might have seemed that their relationship was
very one-sided, with Marshall doing most of the 'giving' and Lance being
the 'receiving' partner.  Well, Lance admitted that it was mostly like
that, as they liked it that way. It didn't stop Lance from topping Marshall
sometimes, or Marshall from willingly and enthusiastically bottoming. They
did what felt good, without making much fuss about roles - except when
roles were part of he game, of course.  Marshall had had problems with
giving up control at first, but he was now gradually getting over his
insecurities as mutual love and trust grew and evolved.

* * *

Marshall was feeling guilty. He hadn't done anything bad, really; he just
might have altered truth for the tiniest amount. Normally this wouldn't
have bothered him all that much, because lying was practically a part of
his job description, but he rarely lied to the people important to him. And
lying to the most important one, well - he was grateful the lie was
relatively harmless and insignificant, because otherwise he might have
developed an irresistible urge to sprint to a confessional. And he wasn't
even Catholic.

It was actually a bit silly. Marshall grimaced slightly at linking the
adjective to his own behavior, but couldn't deny its truthfulness. He was
exaggerating, taking things out of proportion; putting words after one
another for the sole purpose of making himself more anxious by putting
words after one another. And if that didn't confuse him enough, he didn't
know what would do it.

So. Two days. It didn't sound like much, but it was exactly how much sooner
Marshall would see Lance than they had planned. So when Lance sighed
'week', Marshall's mind whispered 'five days', and when Lance enthused
about five days, Marshall hummed and kept silent about three, and when
Lance bubbled on about three days, Marshall struggled to keep the lid on
his own exultation, because, one.

* * *

Chris was being Chris again, and that wouldn't have normally irritated
Lance so much, but Marshall would be there in three days, and Chris had
been being Chris for four hours straight already and Lance's nerves had
worn thin a long time ago.

Not that Lance would have changed his eldest band mate for anything. Chris
was Chris and that was that, just like Joey was Joey and could name every
woman he'd ever slept with, even if reciting the entire list took him over
half an hour and he had to consult his little black book sometimes. They
were his big brothers, invaluable to his mental health, even though they
sometimes came close to endangering it.

Joshtin was another matter. In the not-so-distant past, there had be two
entities called 'Josh' and 'Justin', separate from one another, and even
when combined different from Joshtin, which only came to being after a
series of rather complicated chemical reactions. The individual beings Josh
and Justin were still there, but they had been irrevocably altered by the
inner dynamics of the Joshtin entity.

And it was just a lot more fun to call them that.

Joshtin had been going through something not unlike a second honeymoon,
although they'd already had a second honeymoon, this one being something
like their fourth one.  Every morning they emerged from their room with a
well-fucked glow, which was reassuring and lovely and so on, but it was
when they were glowing when they emerged from dressing rooms, suite
kitchens, and nightclub bathrooms that the others expressed mild
disapproval.

A negative downside to their sexual shenanigans was that when Lance showed
up from his lonely room with the same well-fucked glow, the others noticed
it right away and ribbed him unmercifully.  The one time that Justin walked
in on him having phone sex with Marshall didn't help any. Well, maybe it
would teach the Timberlake phenomenon to knock before he entered a room if
he wanted to avoid the chance of being scarred for life (or laughing
himself silly) but it didn't help to save Lance from major mortification.

* * *

"Chris, shut up." No effect.

"Chris! CHRIS!!!"

The shorter man stopped bouncing on the sofa and babbling, but didn't take
his eyes off the game he was playing with practiced ease.

"What, Poofu-poofu?" Unable to keep still, Chris started bouncing again.

"Can you just shut up for awhile? Please?" Chris sat back and furrowed his
brow appraisingly, as if considering the request.

"Nah." Then he started bouncing again, and Lance decided that yeah, he
loved his friends, but he'd rather go miss Marshall in his room than be
near them a moment longer.

* * *

'Huh. What a strange coincidence,' Lance thought as he watched the five men
make their way through the hotel lobby. He'd intended to slip out of the
hotel and go buy something to read, but now he had another idea. He thought
about what Marshall would think of it, and that made him smile.

* * *

The phone rang the minute Howie entered his room. "Hello?"

"Hi D, fancy meeting you here!" Ah, Lance. Howie had lost of good memories
of nights spent with the blond singer, and a few days too. They were
friends as well as ex-fuck buddies and pop idols.

"Oh yeah, I heard someone mention you were in the neighborhood, or even in
the same hotel.  That's true then?"

"Uh huh. D, listen, I'd really like to see you. Can you come over to my
room sometime today?"  Howie was alarmed. Lance was hot, and beautiful, and
had a boyfriend who would probably slit Howie's throat if he looked at his
boy wrong. Or even looked at his boy, period.

"Um, that sounds great Lance, but I'm pretty busy, or I've been busy the
whole day, and now I'm really tired and just want to crash, so-"

But Lance wouldn't give up that easily. "Come on D, it'll just take a
minute. Please? For old times' sake, if I have to stoop to begging."

What was he, the one-minute man? Even wary and reluctant, Howie was mildly
insulted by the implication. Still, Lance's pleading tone made it really
hard for him to say no. That would be rude and Lance didn't deserve
that. No, Lance deserved only good things, sweetness and light, and- that
train of thought couldn't go on or it'd crush Howie like...well, like
Marshall Mathers in a fit of jealous, possessive rage. But he couldn't say
no, even though the affirmative he squeaked out was weak and apprehensive.

"Great!" Now Lance's voice was shining and happy, and Howie squeezed his
nose to remain calm and unaffected. "Room 1214. Are you sure you're okay
though? I could always come to your room, actually it might be easier that
way."

"No! I mean, no, it's all right, I'll come down once I get settled in. See
you then."

"Okay! See you!"

And logically, there was no reason to panic, but Howie couldn't stop
freaking out long enough for his rational mind to take over.

* * *

"Lance!" Howie's smile was wide and nervous, at least until he remembered
that he shouldn't look too friendly and approachable. Or maybe he should
seem friendly and platonic, just the opposite of sexy. Or maybe-

"Hey D." Lance's grin was quick and bright and it increased Howie's
nervousness some one hundred per cent. They sat on the sofa, Howie
surreptitiously inching further away from Lance until he was practically
perching on the sofa arm.

"So how have you been? Your boyfriend still in the picture, I take it?"

"Yes, he's wonderful. We see each other so rarely though. Actually, what I
need from you has to do with him. I need a favor, and you're just the guy
who can help me."

Oh no. How hard could it be to say no to Lance? Lance with soft skin,
enchanting eyes, sexysexy voice, skillful tongue, unbelievably
intoxicating- Damn! Damn damn damn.

"Uh, Lance, I don't know, are-"

"Really, D, we're friends, right? I'd normally feel embarrassed for asking
you this, but I feel like we're close, and besides, I do have good
motivation."

'What a dangerous, warmly shining smile. So deceivingly guileless.' He'd
always thought Lance could act anyway.

"Lance, uh, your boyfriend?" Howie was chewing his lower lip desperately,
looking around him for a way out. His eyes measured the distance to the
door before he remembered it was his room. Oh, well. And besides, did he
really think he'd reach the door before Lance's voice could charm him into
returning? Yeah, that's what he thought.

"What about him? He's actually the reason I need this favor, or part of it
anyway. You see-" Before Lance could continue, Howie interrupted him by
twisting his hands in his hair and pulling it in a gesture of desperation,
groaning from frustration.

"Lance! I'm sorry but I can't do this, really there's nothing I want more,
well, except maybe to be able to stop ironing my hair, but really, I can't
do this and I'm so sorry!  I hope we can be friends, you're an amazing guy
and your boyfriend's lucky to have you!"

Lance wasn't sure what to make of Howie's little speech. "Um, D, sweetie,
are you sure we're on the same page here? When did signing stuff become
such a big deal?"

Howie did a comical double take. "S-signing stuff? Um, uh, huh?"

Lance was still puzzled enough to refrain from rolling his eyes and
complimenting Howie on his eloquence. "Yes D, what did you think I meant?
You see, my boyfriend, he has a daughter who for some strange reason adores
you guys. Well, I adore her almost as much as I love him, and thought I'd
surprise her with autographs from all of you. Um, if that's not a problem,
that is?"

Lance's voice trailed off uncertainly, his expression increasingly hesitant
as his confusion mounted.  Howie couldn't keep him in the dark, mostly
because he was so relieved he could kiss him - or on a second thought maybe
not - but also because he thought Lance deserved to know the reason why
Howie'd been acting so strangely.

"Oh god, Lance, you're going to laugh at this, even if I didn't find it so
amusing just a minute ago.  You see, I kinda figured out your boyfriend's
identity-"

At this point Howie had to pause in his explanation to calm Lance down, as
he was on the verge of panicking.

"What?! How, when?" Howie hastened to reassure his friend.

"I saw the way you two looked a each other, I don't think anyone else
noticed though. Your secret's safe with me, of course. I take it you're
happy with him?"

His mind set at rest, Lance smiled beatifically. "So very happy, I can't
describe it to you. He's so much more than the public sees, and so good to
me."

Howie was relieved. He'd seen the sparkle of new but true love between the
two that night, but he'd still worried about it. The guy did have a
horrible image, and Lance was such a sweet person.  Howie suspected he
might be just a little in love with the green-eyed man, but he refused to
do anything about it. It was all nice and good and slightly painful but the
sooner he got over it the sooner he could find someone to love who loved
him back. And if he couldn't - even casual sex was better when you weren't
pining after someone you couldn't have.

"So, what does you knowing about Marshall have to do with this?" Lance
gestured vaguely at the room, referring to Howie's fit earlier.

Howie grinned. "Well, it's really stupid, but I wasn't thinking clearly
then. You'll laugh yourself silly over this."

Lance settled into his chair more comfortably, content to pass some
over-abundant time in the company of a friend. In two more days, Marshall
would be there, and time would once again become a valuable commodity
eternally in short supply.

TBC...

Comments are greatly appreciated.  Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com if
you have time. Even a short note lightens up my day and encourages to
write. I take requests if I find them interesting, and I often do. Thanks
for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!