Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2002 23:00:08 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 20

This is to Izzy, my dearest (to whom a million thanks for the beta), Rob
and Dan, Writer Boy, SumSum, Korandda, Metra, Peter, Ryan, Myoshi,
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.

NEEDING YOU
CHAPTER 20
By Neqs

Lance couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. No, wait, he
could! It had been that night in that hotel where it all began. It felt
like ancient history, but it wasn't more than a few months back.

Lance had absolutely no regrets about that night. He might have felt better
about himself in the morning if he hadn't been so bold and uninhibited, but
he wouldn't change a thing - it had paid off beautifully, and given Lance
the greatest man in the world.

"My man is just the greatest, you know?" he slurred to the shorter man who
was helping him stumble into the elevator.

Howie rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sure he is, hon. Let's get you to
your room now, you have an interview at noon and you need your beauty
sleep." Howie's own step wasn't all that steady either, but somehow the
pair managed to make their way to Lance's door.

"Hey! Are you saying that I'm ugly?" Howie groaned at Lance's drunken
belligerence. It was especially ill timed as his effort to push himself
away from Howie's support made the brunette's attempt to fish Lance's
keycard out of his pants pocket all but impossible.

"Ouch! Lance, calm down! I don't think you're ugly at all, that's so not
what I meant. You're, well, pretty. You've got the prettiest eyes, and the
rest of you - it's not bad at all!"

Lance frowned down at the blushing man, taking the keycard from his
fumbling hand and sliding it in the lock in a short flash of clarity before
the silliness of it all washed over him once again and a stupid grin spread
on his flushed face.

"You think I'm pretty, you want to date me, " Lance sang amidst giggles as
the door swung open and he yelped as he fell through, almost taking Howie
with him. The older man's voice was full of sarcasm as he unsteadily bent
down to help Lance up from his spineless heap on the floor.

"Sure I do, Miss Congeniality," he drawled. "I think you're the prettiest
thing this side of Mississippi River, and I want nothing more than to jump
your cute lil' bones!"

Lance laughed back at him happily. "Ain't so lil', Sweet. I'm afraid you'll
have survive without the taste of me though, 'cause I got myself a man like
no other, and that's a fact!"

"I'm so glad you remember that, James." It took the tipsy pop stars a few
seconds to realize that neither of them had uttered the cool words. Howie
froze to the spot when he saw a man rise from the chair, but Lance's
reaction was immediate and sincere.

"Em!" he squealed excitedly, throwing his arms around the other's neck and
jumping to encircle his slim hips with his legs. He covered the pale face
with sloppy kisses, wiggling around, partly to get more comfortable and
balanced, partly to get more contact with the other man's leanly muscular
body. Lance was too thrilled at seeing his lover, so wonderfully
unexpected, to notice the moment when the icy blue eyes softened and the
taut frame relaxed into the caresses Lance was lavishing on it, but Howie
did. His body relaxed in relief as he let out a shaky breath.

"Can I put you down now, babe? You're not the lightest, you know," Marshall
said in a gruff tone.

Lance got back on his wobbly feet, but when he looked into Marshall's eyes
again, his smile had slipped and his eyes were wet and vulnerable and
impossibly large. "Are you saying I'm fat?"  Marshall bit back a groan as
he watched Lance's lower lip tremble, a groan that was a mixture of lust
and helplessness. He took Lance's hands to his, willing the blond man to
meet his eyes. When he did, he continued.

"No! That's not what I said, babe. You're absolutely perfect just the way
you are, I wouldn't change a thing about you. Your soft skin, your sexy
booty, your quirky personality...those are just a few of the things that
make me love you more each day."

This, of course, was a good answer, but Lance was still more than slightly
drunk, and the alcohol in his bloodstream was making him extra
sensitive. Half annoyed, Marshall tried to keep his heart from constricting
as he held the softly weeping singer. He murmured reassurance into the
younger man's ear, and only then remembered that there was a third person
in the room.

Howie had been trying to avoid attention and to inch towards the door, but
Marshall's blue gaze froze him to the spot. "Oh, uh, um, I was just, you
know, leaving, so, yeah." Howie felt like a helpless animal, held still by
a predator's eyes.

Marshall scrutinized the babbling singer for a moment, and to Howie it
seemed like he was trying to decide whether to strangle or shoot him. Not
that Howie really believed that anyone Lance would date could do stuff like
that, but he was almost as heavily intoxicated as the younger singer, he
just hid it better. That didn't stop the alcohol from wreaking havoc on his
thought processes, though.

All this considered Howie was stunned when the fearsome rapper chuckled
softly. "Chill, man, I'm not gonna kill you. First of all, I don't do that
to people, and secondly, I know you were just joking a minute ago when you
said all that. Weren't you?"

Howie's eyes bulged as he rushed to agree. "Yes! Just joking, I'd never
touch Lance, not that he's not totally hot, but I know I've got no right to
touch him anymore-"

"'Anymore'? You mean you had that right once?"

Howie groaned out loud. So Marshall hadn't known THAT. "Um, shit! Yeah, we
fooled around sometimes, before you two hooked up, nothing serious. We're
just friends now, I haven't laid a finger on him, I swear!"

Marshall regarded him in silence, and nodded grudgingly. "We haven't
exactly told each other our complete histories yet. We get to meet so damn
rarely, and when we're together we're usually, hmm, busy."

"So, uh, you're not going to kill me?" Howie just had to make sure he'd
understood the rapper correctly.

"No. You seem harmless, and besides, I trust James completely. It's good to
know he has friends he can trust, too. His secret and mine could cause a
lot of damage if they got out."

"Lance is my friend and he can trust me, and so can you. I know something
about keeping secrets, you'd be amazed at the skeletons in the BSB closets,
no pun intended!"

"Hmm, I believe you. Now, I'd better get this sleepy boy here in bed,"
Marshall said, tightening his arms around Lance, who'd been lightly dozing
on his shoulder while the they talked.

"Need any help?" Howie had never thought there'd be a day when he offered
to help Marshall Mathers get Lance into bed, but here it was. Go figure.

"No thanks, I can handle him. Um, Howie, right?" At Howie's nod, he
continued. "You can call me Marshall if you like. Thanks for taking care of
James. Goodnight, now."

It took Howie a few seconds to realize he was being politely but firmly
dismissed. "Oh! Goodnight, uh, Marshall."

He took pride in the fact that he waited until reaching the elevator to sag
against the wall with his eyes closed and exhale a shaky breath. In the
morning he'd find this slightly amusing, and in a year, he might think the
whole thing was hilarious, but right now his silent laughter had a
hysterical edge of relieved tension to it.

* * *

Back in the room, Marshall was in the process of getting Lance ready for
bed. It would have been easier if the singer hadn't been so smashed, but as
it was, his efforts to aid in the removal of his clothes were hindering
rather than helping. Finally Marshall snapped.

"Dammit babe, hold still will you?" Lance complied by flopping
spread-eagled down on his back on the bed. Marshall paused to appreciate
the view before he carried on stripping Lance of his rumpled
clothing. Lance was a little too obliging now, not trying to help at all,
letting his lover move his arms and legs like he was a doll.

Marshall spied a suspicious bulge in Lance's groin and glanced at his
smirking face, feeling torn between desire, responsibility, love, and
vexation. "Damn, you're a horny drunk, aren't you James?  We can play this
game some other time, you need to sleep now."

"Come on Marshall, I don't wanna sleep now...I wanna fuck...I wanna fuck
your cute ass..."  Lance's fumbling hands were feeble and aimless, and even
his lust was sort of absent-minded, like a child determined to stay up past
his bedtime even though he's dead on his feet. It was easy for Marshall to
disentangle his hands.

The rapper finished undressing them both, and then crawled in the bed,
pulling the comforter over their naked bodies.

"Sleep now, you can jump my bones tomorrow, I'm not going anywhere. I'm
staying right here," Marshall mumbled tiredly, nuzzling his lover's neck in
sleepy contentment.  Lance sighed in agreement, already in the land of
dreams.

* * *

Lance groaned. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn there were
corpses in his mouth*.  He made a face at the taste and whimpered at the
way the slight movement of facial muscles pulled at his pounding temples.

The events of the night before were...fuzzy. He'd been drinking with Howie,
that much he could remember. He'd also had this weird dream of Marshall
being there...

"Drink this, babe, you're dehydrated. And take these too, they'll make you
feel better." Lance kept his eyes shut, savoring the remnants of the
dream. Mm, Marshall was there in his room with him, and now the bed was
dipping under the rapper's weight. The dream Marshall pressed a kiss on the
nape of his neck.

Then he made a sound of distaste.

"Damn, you need a shower, babe!"

Now that was something a dream Marshall seldom said. Bracing himself for
the pain, Lance opened his eyes to narrow slits and came face to face with
a smiling Marshall Mathers. A real flesh and blood one.

For a second Lance forgot all about how miserable he was feeling. His arms
shot around his lover and he rolled them over, draping himself over the
beloved body. He beamed down at the blue-eyed man, painting his face with
his hands as if to make sure he was really there and not just a figment of
his imagination.

"It is you! You're here already! But you weren't supposed to come until the
day after tomorrow, is something wrong? Not that I'm not thrilled to see
you sooner..."

"We'll, it's stupid, really..." Marshall smiled sheepishly and eased Lance
from on top of him to his side, spending a few moments fussing over him,
making sure he was comfortable. Lance was feeling his hangover again, but
he relished in Marshall's closeness. He felt so loved and safe now that
there was someone to watch over him.

"So, yeah, I wanted to surprise you by coming a bit early, I guess I should
have made sure you were here, huh? No, I didn't actually wait long, just
half an hour or so."

"I don't usually like surprises, they mess with my plans, but this time I
didn't mind at all! Much of last night is pretty hazy for me, but the
moment I realized you were there... it's burnt into my memory."

"I love surprises! I know exactly what you mean by that moment, it's an
amazing feeling, and it's cool to adjust to the situation. Adventures are
wonderful, and you just don't get the right feeling of adventure if you
plan it. No offense hon, I know how you love planning things, but it takes
some of the magic away."

Lance was getting inspiration. An idea...Marshall and he, an adventure, an
exotic location...a surprise! He'd have to think of this when he had more
time, and plan it very carefully, but this seemed like a perfect way to
bring joy to his guy. But now...

"Em? How did you get into my room anyhow? We're supposed to have, like,
security or something," Lance asked, feeling a little more alert.

"Justin, I mean Joshtin helped me," Marshall grinned. Lance slapped his arm
playfully.

"You're evil, hon!"

"You know it!" Nibbling Lance's neck Marshall growled, "And once you've had
a shower I'll show you just how evil I really am."

"Neat freak!"

"Stinky boy! Seriously babe, I think you'll feel a lot better after you've
brushed your teeth and showered."

Lance regarded his lover steadily with only the barest hint of a smile
ghosting on his lips even though his eyes were sparkling like little stars,
his inner light mostly contained but dazzling enough to make Marshall's
world spin and shift sideways.

"You might be right."

"You know I am. I love you no matter how smelly and vile-tasting you are,
but I think you'd enjoy it more too when you're nice and fresh. That's just
what I think though, you can do as you like."

"Hmm? So if I French kissed you right now you wouldn't flinch?" Lance's
amusement was closer to the surface now, barely hidden.

Marshall took him at his word and tried to brace himself without seeming
to.  "No. You can kiss me anytime, babe."

Lance leaned slowly closer, watching how Marshall closed his eyes and
scrunched up his face in fatalistic horror. 'Alcohol...stewed over the
night, and cigarettes too, I know he smokes sometimes when he drinks...oh
damn this is gonna taste bad, c'mon Marshall it's the man you love so it
can't be that bad, take it like a man. Oh god he's gonna do it...'

When nothing happened, Marshall opened first one, then both eyes. Lance was
looking at him with laughter dancing in his eyes, affection smoothing away
the embarrassment.

"Silly." Lance kissed Marshall's chest quickly before getting up and
shakily rising to his feet, but that's as far as he made it before Marshall
jumped up and swept him into his arms.

"Thanks hon," Lance murmured contently as Marshall deposited him on the
counter and handed him his toothbrush. He brushed his teeth with Marshall
standing in the v of his legs, rubbing his knees and thighs
distractingly. When he got into the shower he wasn't very surprised to find
Marshall following him.

"Gotta make sure you get clean all over." And the crooked grin and lustful
eyes would have told Lance what was going on if he didn't know already,
know it and love it.

* * *

Marshall soaps him up, taking care to get everywhere, and Lance makes
appreciative noises when strong, smooth fingers massage his shoulders,
back, thighs, and then oh yes-

Lance has to grab Marshall's shoulders to keep from swooning into a puddle
of want, need, and desire on the bathroom floor.

A hot, wet whisper and the touch of those wonderful hands coax Lance to
turn to face the wall, bracing his palms against the cool tile. He waits
for an endless, impatient moment, and then there is a hot weight against
his back and a silky, smooth pressure down, down below, and Lance has never
liked his own ass all that much but now he has to agree with the raspy,
breathless voice in his ear that it's gorgeous, out of this world, fucking
divine.

Then the mouth isn't saying things that make him want to scream anymore,
it's mouthing his earlobes, teeth grazing sweetly and sending jolts of
wantneeddesire through his quivering body.  He's arching his neck to give
that mouth more room to work on his neck, and arching his back to drive
that hot cock deeper into his desperately flexing ass. He moans and hisses
and whimpers until shower stall reverberates with his sounds and the ones
his man is making, grunts and groans endearments that sound dirty and sweet
at the same time, and it's that combination as much as the hands with their
bruising hold on his hips, and the blinding, repetitive pressure on his
prostate, and the teeth lightly sinking to the curve of his neck that make
him come with a strangled gasp and an amazing amount of messy white on the
blue shower wall.

The powerful body behind and inside his own is now trembling
uncontrollably, squeezing him as tightly as his internal muscles squeezed
it just a moment earlier, and then he has to struggle to keep them both
standing as his lover collapses on his back, head bowed over his shoulder
as in prayer, lips mouthing his neck lazily, tongue snaking out to caress
the bite-mark which is already faintly visible. The weight is reassuring
and welcome, but Lance can't hold both their weights for long and so he
nudges his lover gently, and soon they're supporting each other, light to
carry under the hot, gentle rain of the shower.

TBC

*Anyone like Ian Brown? Me too. So if you thought this line didn't work,
forgive a poor writer with a weak spot for a great song.

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!