Date: Tue, 03 Sep 2002 12:55:21 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 22

Late again, sorry! I blame a busy last week at my summer job, moving back
to my student place, and generally lack of time to breathe. Will try not to
let it happen too often.

Again special props to Korandda, who always gives me wonderful ideas to
write (and last minute corrections), Izzy, my dearest (who also gives
invaluable beta!), Summy, Rob and Dan, Writer Boy, 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 22
by Neqs

It got Lance thinking and once something got him thinking, he just had to
find out what the truth was. Had to. Lance fidgeted on the couch until
Marshall noticed.

"Something wrong babe?"

"Em?"

"Yes?"

"I...I just don't understand it. I hear your songs on the radio, and you
sound so angry and bitter.  You're not like that with me, though, and it
seems like you're two different people. It can't all be an act, unless you
act with me too."

Marshall could see that Lance was perplexed, even a little upset about the
whole thing. He settled down to explain it the best he could.

"You're right, babe. Part of it is an act, but not all of it, and
definitely nothing when I'm with you.  My songs, they're a way for me to
express myself, and what often comes out is what I want to 'purge' out,
something very negative and dark. I don't feel like that all the time, and
that's when my image insists that I act a little, meet people's
expectations of me. When I'm with you, though, all the bad stuff goes
away. I don't hide it, or at least I try not to, but I wouldn't want to put
you through one of my moods."

"So you only want me to see your good side?"

"No, well, yes, I guess it's natural to want to be at your best for a
person you care for deeply. I can be a mean bastard, I can be a crass
asshole, but I don't want to be those things with you. I don't feel those
things when I'm with you."

"I want you to be yourself. Don't show me what you think I want to see. I'm
not that superficial."  'Even though some people you've known have been.'

Lance wrapped gentle arms around his lover, consoling him even if the
rapper wasn't aware he needed consoling.

* * *

Saying goodbye in hotel rooms was getting to be a habit. A habit Lance was
getting tired of. First of all, he never wanted to say goodbye to Marshall;
second of all, hotels were starting to feel confining. He needed a change;
a breath of fresh air...and then the idea came back for him. It would take
some careful planning, but the end result would be worth all the trouble,
he was sure of that.  He opened his calendar and dialed a certain number on
his cell.

He waited until the other person picked up. "Hey, this is Lance. Listen,
I've got this great plan, but I'll need your help to make it work. You
interested in an adventure?"

The pleased chuckle was all the answer he needed, but honing the details
took until the little hours.

* * *

Marshall was starting to get a little pissed. And impatient. And cold. He
paced down the alley and back again, as much to stay warm as to release
frustrated energy. He'd had a long day and he wanted nothing more than a
long, hot shower and his bed. Oh, and to call his boyfriend, who'd been
sounding really weird lately. Like there was something going on. Like- nah,
he trusted Lance and he was sure he'd find out all about it sooner or
later.

Where the hell was Dre anyway? When he'd called Marshall earlier, he hadn't
given him a chance to protest before barking out an order to meet him on an
alley not far from the hotel in fifteen minutes. Marshall had been there
fifteen minutes already, but there had been no sign of the other man, and
he wasn't answering his cell.

Marshall swore again and paused to blow hot air into his hands, cursing Dre
and his stupid ideas and the amazingly horrible weather in the city he was
in...wherever that was. It wasn't like he was keeping track anymore. The
only reason he might have wanted to know it was so that he could tell
Lance, but Dre had already e-mailed Lance the entire tour schedule, so the
green-eyed man was probably more up-to-date about Marshall's timetable than
he was. And there was nothing wrong with that in Marshall's book.

Marshall spent a few moments thinking about the unlikely but very real bond
that had sprung to existence between the low-voiced Mississippian and the
older, black man. It gave him no small amount of joy how well the two most
important men in his life got along.  Lance was on first-name basis with
rest of the D12 guys too, but they hadn't really hit it off the way Lance
and Dre had.  Marshall had no doubt their heads would be turned
eventually. Lance could charm anyone, and the guys sort of liked him
already, so Marshall was positive they'd fall under his spell before too
long.

Lance's spell...it wasn't that Lance was handsome in the classical sense.
His face was a bit weirdly shaped and his nose was slightly crooked or
something, but the combination of all his peculiar characteristics was
utterly enchanting. He looked sort of - well, alien, or
otherworldly. Marshall felt suddenly very silly, freezing his ass off on an
alley in some nameless town, trying to come up with a suitable definition
for his lover's strange, irresistible charisma.

Maybe it was the eyes. They were such a light, rare shade of green,
enigmatic and almost ethereal.  And his smile was sweet and sexy and
everything in between. Marshall knew it was bad manners to call a guy
beautiful, but Lance was just that...a strange mix of unearthly allure and
very real, flesh and blood joy, tears, laughter, conflict, and
pleasure. Nobody was perfect, not even Lance, but once you gave Lance even
a little piece of your heart, he grabbed it and it was his for
life. Marshall still couldn't understand how he'd lucked out like he had;
he only wished he knew what he'd done so right because he didn't want to
start doing something wrong. He only hoped following his heart would keep
him on the right track.

Marshall swore, startled as he slipped on a patch of ice and almost fell on
his ass. Where the hell was Dre already? He kicked a stray coke can in
exasperation and felt childish satisfaction at the loud clatter that
sounded when it hit a metal trashcan. He was looking for more things to
kick when he felt strong arms grab him from behind. In a flash he was
blindfolded, with his arms tied behind his back. Underneath him was
something warm and firmly soft, maybe a mattress in the back of a van. He
lay there in stunned silence, his mind racing.

'Holy shit, what the FUCK? Who are these guys, and what the hell are they
gonna do to me? Did I finally piss off some wacko? Oh fuck---'

Then the mattress moved and startled Marshall out of his shocked stupor. He
felt a warm breath against his neck and stopped breathing. Okay, he was
laying ON someone.  Psychos, anyone? In the space of a split second his
mind entertained a thousand horror visions of what was going to happen to
him. But then...

Marshall inhaled deeply through his nose and froze. That smell...a fresh,
clear fragrance that seemed very, very familiar. It was a mix of a certain
soap, after-shave, and cologne, faint but separable, and Marshall was
instantly torn between relief, elation, and fury.

"So you think this is funny, huh? Scaring me half to death with stupid
tricks like this, that's not very nice." Still, he snuggled his head into
the curve of the other man's neck, sighing contently as warm, loving arms
wrapped around him.

"Aw, I'm sorry honey. I just wanted to really surprise you. Did it work?"
The soft, husky voice with a giggly undertone made Marshall shiver and
forget his irritation.

"Hell yeah! I was fucking terrified for a moment there. But now you're
here... Hey, untie me and take this blindfold off, okay? I'm feeling a
little left in the dark here."

Another soft giggle in his ear. "Nah, I sort of like you like this. All
trussed up and at my mercy."

Marshall cleared his throat and tried to stop his pulse from racing. Okay,
lying in arms of his lover in the back of some van speeding across the
city, all tied up and blind-folded, was definitely NOT hot. There was
absolutely no reason to feel like bursting through his jeans, none
whatsoever. And nothing sexy in the feeling of vulnerability and the
experience of total trust that his helpless state required. He just wished
his dick would agree.

He moaned breathlessly as Lance nibbled on his ear. His ears had always
been one of his hot spots, but under the circumstances... It might have
been dark behind the cloth covering his eyes, but he was still seeing
stars.

This time Lances chuckle was deeper, huskier. "Oh, you like it too, huh?
How interesting." And then he conquered Marshall's mouth with his own
demanding lips, making him first tense and then relax under the furious
onslaught. It felt like Lance's tongue was trying to emulate a dick,
fucking his mouth deep, hard, and rhythmic until Marshall couldn't help but
whimper and arch back, exposing the pale expanse of his neck in
surrender. Taking the hint, Lance attacked the offered skin with his hungry
mouth, stealing small, measured bites that left Marshall writhing and
panting for more. Or maybe it was Lance's gently rocking hand on his crotch
that did that. Marshall didn't know; he was beyond caring.

Marshall would have loved to run his hands over Lance's body, ending up
with his fingers tangled in his hair, directing his talented mouth to where
he wanted it. To pull the other man closer, melding their bodies into one,
to be able to do anything about his pleasurable predicament. His hands were
still tied behind his back though, tight but not uncomfortably so. The
muscles on his arms bunched futilely as struggle to get free...not that he
really wanted to go anywhere.

Lance seemed to understand Marshall's conflicting emotions, and after one
last, sharply loving bite he began to rain butterfly kisses on his lover's
face and neck. His hand easily found the zipper of Marshall's baggy jeans
and slid it down. Marshall groaned from impatience, and then in surprised
ecstasy as he was swept into the scorching confines of Lance's most highly
talented mouth. The strong suction and the fluttering tongue almost drove
him out of his mind and he bucked his hips up from the floor, until Lance
gripped them firmly with both hands and held them down.

"Impatient, huh? I just can't imagine what's gotten you so hot all of a
sudden." This was SO not the right time for Lance to get playful, Marshall
thought as he growled in frustration.

"Why don't you untie me, and then we'll see if it's funny anymore."

Marshall heard a soft rustling sound, and then the blind-fold was removed.
He blinked furiously and drank in the sight of his lover in the dark
van. The blondish-brown hair was slightly tousled, and his mouth was dark
and glistening moistly. Marshall's ice-blue eyes instantly found Lance's
green ones, and their gazes locked into silent communication.

Lance smiled a little sheepishly as Marshall's eyes burned into his. "I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to be a tease. You just looked so delicious there..."
and Lance's eyes meandered hungrily from Marshall's face to his raging
hard-on, which was still red and wet from Lance's attentions.

"Why don't you taste me then, James?"

Lance flashed him a quick smile and gave him a soft peck on the lips. "You
don't have to ask. I love your cock, and I love sucking it. And most
importantly, I love you, and that means that I'm yours. I just wanted to
see what it felt like, having total control. But that's enough talk, I
think there's something that needs taking care of here."

And then he descended on Marshall's dick with total concentration and
dedication. The rapper's head snapped back as he inhaled sharply in
pleasure, biting back a scream.  Lance's head bobbed up and down as he
slurped and relaxed his throat, letting Marshall thrust his hips upwards
and fuck his mouth ferociously.

Marshall's hands were still tied, but now that Lance was fully cooperating
he was having no trouble getting what he needed. He pumped his hips up from
the carpeted floor, shoving his dick into Lance's welcoming mouth and
gently squeezing throat. Lance obliged him by humming deeply and creating
vibrations that made Marshall's cock throb even more, until he released his
creamy load down Lance's throat with a muffled shout.

Marshall stared upwards from his boneless sprawl on the floor, seeing only
blackness. Had he gone blind? He couldn't really see anything. Oh, yeah. It
was dark in the van, and the ceiling would hardly offer anything worth of
seeing anyway. He moved his gaze to Lance, who was gently licking him clean
and tucking him into his pants. His own clothes-covered erection was very
much in evidence.

Feeling Marshall's eyes on him, Lance sat back on his heels with one last
loving pat on Marshall's crotch and smiled at him. Even in the relative
darkness, his love shone from his eyes clear as a day.  He slowly crawled
up and released Marshall's hands, sitting back to see how the rapper would
react. For a moment he did nothing, then he flexed his arms carefully. Then
he suddenly reached out and pulled Lance in for a fiercely passionate kiss,
seemingly wanting to swallow him whole. Lance just moaned and went along
willingly. When Marshall pulled back some five minutes later, Lance
whimpered in protest and tried to follow him.

The rapper had something to say, though. "Well, if you're mine, I'm yours
just as completely. I might not always show it as easily as you do or in
the same way, but it's no less true."

Lance smiled back gently. "Oh, I know that. Don't worry, I know."

Right then the van stopped moving and the door was pulled open, letting
cold air and artificial light flood the back. The two men tried to shield
their eyes, trying to get used to normal light again.

"You enjoy the ride, Em?" The voice made Marshall swear, but he wondered
why he was even surprised. Twenty minutes ago he'd been glad Lance and Dre
had hit it off.  Now he wasn't sure if the pair wasn't a recipe for
disaster.

"Dre, what the fuck? You scared the shit out of me, you stupid fuck!"

"Come on, you know you love surprises. Besides, your boy's got something
special planned for you, so stop grouching."

Marshall couldn't help lightening up a little. He turned to Lance, taking
his hand. "Something special, huh? Just seeing you again is special to me,"
he said with a quiet smile.

Lance smiled back smugly and squeezed Marshall's hand. "Same here, but what
I've got planned is a little more elaborate. We're going on a trip, hon,
just the two of us."

Marshall raised an eyebrow speculatively and looked at Dre. "And how does
this fit with my schedule?"

"Oh, the last three concerts were cancelled, didn't you know? Aw shucks, I
guess we forgot to let you know. Well, now you do!"

Marshall kept glancing from one smug face to another, starting to smile a
little and then breaking into a crazy grin. "Oh fuck yeah! This is fucking
fantastic!" The black man received a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and Lance
got a slow, deep kiss square on the mouth. When their lips separated, Dre
was still grimacing with mock disgust, making a big show of wiping his
cheek.

"Gay cooties, yuck!" His huge grin pretty much ruined his efforts, though.
"Okay, out you go, guys!  You don't want the plane to leave without you, do
you?"

Climbing out of the van, Marshall looked around. They were at an airport,
but not at a terminal.  There was a small, streamlined jet not far from the
vehicle. Marshall eyed it longingly. "Our plane?  We're flying somewhere?"
he was getting more and more excited by the minute.

"Actually, the plane won't leave without us. It's waiting just for the two
of us," Lance remarked as he jumped down.

"A private jet? How the fuck did you arrange that?" Marshall felt like
squealing in excitement. He restrained himself with sheer willpower. He'd
flown in jets before.

"A friend of a friend...we couldn't really fly commercial together, you
know? But come on now hon, your chariot awaits."

"After you, Mr. Hollywood."

Saying goodbye and thanks to Dre who just beamed at them happily, they
ascended the stairs to the gleaming jet. Marshall tried to guess where they
were going, but then let it lie. He'd get it out of Lance soon enough. He
had his ways...

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!