Date: Wed, 23 Oct 2002 22:56:09 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 26

Sorry for the lateness! Had a nasty test I studied almost a month for, and
that took a lot of valuable writing time.

Thanks to Izzy (beta goddess!), Kor (whose ideas I use shamelessly but with
immense gratitude), Summy, Libby, Rob and Dan, Writie, Metra, Peter, Ryan,
Andy, Myoshi, Julienne, Trish, Bethany, Jimmy, Lincoln, JT, Angel, Nyn,
Cindy, 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 devoid of malevolence.

NEEDING YOU
CHAPTER 26
By Neqs

"Tom, calm down. Tom-" Lance rolled his eyes in frustration as he failed to
get a word in. "TOM!  I'm sorry, but you've got to calm down and listen to
me. Thank you. Now, I know you're upset and you have every right to be,
this is a big step after all. And I definitely know what a huge effect this
could have on your career, believe me, I know. But I want to you to
remember why you decided you were going to do this in the first
place. Nicole pushed you? Well you had to want it too or she wouldn't have
succeeded in persuading you. Think about it this way: you've been trying to
get drama roles for years, right? This just might be a perfect opportunity
to do that! Face it, being straight is so damn predictable and boring. The
'gay sensitivity' will appeal to drama directors, and as for the action
stuff, a gay action hero is a success story waiting to happen. But hey,
it's your life and your call."

Lance closed the phone with a sigh. This had been the third and hopefully
last time the actor had changed his mind this week. It wasn't that he was
regretting his decision, he just wanted to be reassured that he was doing
the right thing.

Lance felt like he was spending more time on the phone than off it. Most of
that time was of course spent talking to Marshall, who was two states away
- as far as the moon, but also as close as the sound of his breath in
Lance's ear just before he fell asleep.

A lot of time went to organizing the coming out, or "the party" as they
were calling it. There wasn't a day when Lance didn't get a call from this
or that musician, performer, or actor. They all wanted something from him,
if nothing else, a pat on the head for not backing out.  Not that he'd
blame anyone who wanted to do that. Coming out was a serious matter, you
shouldn't do it because of peer pressure if the time or situation didn't
feel right to you.

* * *

Marshall, he should call Marshall. Lance considered fishing his cell phone
out of his pocket right there, but then he decided that he'd better get
into his room first. He strode down the hotel hallway, glad that the tour
was almost over. He was tired of sleeping in a bus, tired of sleeping alone
in a bunk bed. The low thrum of the motor often failed to lull him to
sleep, and when it succeeded, there was still a certain reluctance to his
rest.

Once his home away from home, now the bus seemed wrong somehow. Alien, like
it wasn't he who was meant to be there, but someone younger, more energetic
and less jaded.  Lance didn't consider himself old, but he wasn't that
young either. He was tired sometimes, not the single-minded exhaustion of
youth, but the dispassionate weariness of someone who sees the big picture,
or at least much more of it than he did before.

Sure, he still felt the same sparkling liveliness and contentment, altered
by maturity, but different things did it for him nowadays. One of them was,
of course, Marshall. It seemed like everything in his life came down to
Marshall. There was nothing wrong with that blessed state of things, but it
made Lance wonder how and when his life and happiness had inextricably
twined themselves around the rapper.

The fact that he relied on another person so greatly scared him sometimes.
The thought of losing Marshall... he couldn't bear to even think about
it. He usually banished such thoughts by immersing himself into Marshall's
touch, his taste, his scent, and was made whole again.

'That's a little difficult when he's not here,' Lance thought as he
maneuvered the suite door open.  The sound of his voice over the phone
helped, but of course it wasn't the same.

Lance was just about to step in when he felt strong arms wrap around his
waist and a hot mouth latch onto his throat just under his right ear. His
startled squeak turned into a moan of surprised pleasure when he recognized
his "attacker."

"Miss me, stud?" The words were rasped into his ear between teasing nibbles
of the lobe. Lance just hummed an affirmative, arching his neck towards the
hungry mouth. He groaned when the hands holding him slid downwards to cup
his groin proprietarily. He was torn between thrusting forward to the warm
hands and grinding his ass to the erection currently nuzzling it through
two layers of denim. Was it just his lust-filled imagination or could he
really feel the delicious ridges and veins of that wonderfully familiar
cock even through the thick fabric? An interesting question but he was too
horny for hypotheses right now.

"Oh yeah! Why don't we, ah, get inside and I'll show you how much." Lance
was absurdly proud of himself for managing to gasp out two nearly rational
sentences. He was almost completely lost in a haze of lust and love, but he
still had the presence of mind to realize that a hotel hallway wasn't the
best place to fuck your boyfriend. Especially if you weren't out yet.

Marshall seemed to agree with him, because before Lance could even start to
gather resolve to try to free himself, they were inside the suite with the
door closed. Lance would have been more than willing to renew their
physical bond right there on the carpeted floor, who cared about rug burn
anyway? Apparently Marshall did, because he was resisting Lance's urgings
to get naked.

"Hold on babe, I'm sure there's a bed here somewhere. That'll be a lot more
comfortable than the floor, don't you think?"

Lance's response was a small frustrated growl, and he tightened his arms
around Marshall. His body was vibrating with strange energy, filled with
need and want and urgency. Blue eyes met his lust-glazed green ones, and
Lance could see desire flare in those seemingly icy depths, accompanied by
a dozen other emotions.

Lance felt like crawling inside Marshall's skin and staying there, forever
embedded in his strength and warmth. He plundered Marshall's mouth
desperately, trying to coax the too-still tongue into moving, but without
much success. It moved, but with slow, slick measured movements, belying
the passion simmering just under the surface.

Lance's breath hitched when Marshall framed his face with his hands,
caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs in a familiar gesture. Lance
closed his eyes again and leaned into the calming touch, savoring the
sudden comfortable hush that had replaced his earlier urgency.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt like every cell in his body was
humming happily. His eyes smiled briefly before closing again as he leaned
in to nuzzle his precious man's neck, sighing at the exquisite rasp of his
short stubble.

Marshall's hands had slid down to Lance's shoulders and neck, gently
guiding his movements.  Lance had lost himself, and found himself. He felt
impossibly close to the other man, in body and also in spirit. There were
no games here, although they might play some sometimes when they felt like
it. There was no need to posture, pretend, or hold back - they both knew
they could be as free in each other's company as they were when they were
alone, and they both knew the other knew it too.

It might have seemed complicated and been beyond some people's ability to
let go, but for them, it was the most natural thing in the world, by this
time basic for their existence. Whoever they once had been, they were no
longer. They had been broken to pieces by their tumultuous, conflicting
emotions, and put together in a new, improved design.

The room was silent except for their contented sighs and the soft whisper
of fabric against fabric as they cherished their physical closeness after a
too long separation.

"Damn!"

Lance leaned back slightly and smiled at his man. "I agree. It's been,
what, three weeks? Far too long."

"Let's never be separated for that long again, okay?"

Marshall's eyes softened as his lips curved into the gentle smile few ever
saw. "Deal. It's been hell, babe, hell. I've been going crazy without your
touch, the sound of your breath, everything about you. Damn if I can live
without you anymore!"

Lance feigned a frown. "Damn right! And don't you dare trying!" he
strengthened his hold of Marshall's hips, pressing them even tighter
together, making them sway gently from side to side in an invisible
rhythm. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not letting you go, ever. So
there!"

Marshall smiled indulgently at Lance's imperious declaration. It was nice
to be told he could have just the thing he wanted most. "What, do you
expect me to argue with you?  Not going to happen!  You're never getting
rid of me!" he punctuated his statement with a big, wet kiss on Lance's ear
that had him laughing and protesting loudly, playfully struggling to get
free.

The half-hearted struggling turned into squirming when Marshall started
nibbling the ear carefully, his hot breath sending shivers through Lance's
frame. "Mm," he hummed.  "Missed you."

"Missed you too," Marshall whispered back. Hands started wandering again,
but without the feverish urgency of before. Their movements were intense
and almost reverent, but still playful as their joy in each other brimmed
over.

* * *

Later, when they were curled together in bed, sweaty and spent but happy,
Lance asked the question that had been puzzling him.

"Hon? Not that I'm not ecstatic to see you here ahead of schedule, but I
thought you had a few more concerts left. I seem to remember a conversation
we had about surprises..."

Marshall turned sad, stricken eyes towards his lover, looking pitiful,
adorable, and generally heart- broken. His lower lip trembled as his blue,
blue eyes filled with tears.  "You...you don't love me anymore!"

Lance groaned and thumped his head against the pillow. He wasn't going to
win this one. Just one look at that sad face and he'd be a pile of
mush. For a guy known for his bad attitude, Marshall had an amazingly
effective pout. Who would have guessed that the King of Controversy was
also the King of Puppy-dog Eyes?

Always a graceful loser, Lance dropped a loving kiss on those adorable,
pouty lips. "Of course I love you, silly guy! You win. Now, spill."

"The same old story, really. The concerts were cancelled and whatever
publicity crap was left, I skipped."

"I guess I should be upset that you chose me over your job, but I'm glad
you did."

They lingered for a moment, sharing a lazy, content smile. Then Marshall's
ick-dar pinged. "Jamie baby, we're smelly and sticky, and I for one haven't
showered since early this morning. Bath?"

"A bath sounds heavenly. Can we eat after?"

"You go run the bath, I'll call for Chinese. The usual?"

"Sure thing, sweetie."

Lance hummed happily as he poured his favorite bath oil into the large tub
that was filling rapidly.  Now this was what life was meant to be like -
peaceful pleasures with the people you loved. Of course a little excitement
was sometimes in order, but they'd have that soon enough. Being a celebrity
had taught him appreciate the beauty of stillness and quiet.

Lance placed a few candles around the bathroom and turned out the light,
pausing to admire the effect. When the water had reached a proper height in
the tub he called for Marshall. "The bath's ready! Are you coming, Em?"

"I'll be there in a moment, James, you go on in!" Lance shrugged mentally
and shed his clothes, sighing as he sunk into the hot, scented water. He
leaned back and closed his eyes. The water was of a perfect temperature,
and the oil made it pleasant to feel and to smell.  The candlelight brought
glimmering reflections from the shining walls. Now if only Marshall were
there too...

* * *

Back in the main room, an impatient Marshall was rummaging through his coat
pockets. After a moment of panic when he couldn't find what he was looking
for, his hurried fingers bumped into the object. He let out a shaky breath
of relief and sat back on his heels, his eyes glued to the small, square
box.

Marshall started when he heard Lance's call. He scrambled for a suitable
response and hurriedly placed their food order, asking it to be delivered
in two hours. In the bedroom he found a plush bathrobe and changed into
that, placing the box in a pocket. Then he put some relaxing music on,
grabbed some chocolate, and headed for the bathroom.

Once past the doorway, Marshall halted to take in the room. Lance was
reclining in the water, eyes closed. He looked totally relaxed, and the
sensuous planes of his face were glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He
must have made a sound, because Lance's green eyes slowly blinked open.

"There you are. I missed you...well, before I almost fell asleep! Get over
here, slowpoke!" Marshall chuckled and stepped closer, carefully untied his
robe and set it next to the tub. Then he lowered his body into the
still-steaming water, careful not to make any flow over. Lance looked
mildly surprised when Marshall just straddled his thighs and sat back with
an intense, thoughtful look on his face.

"Em?"

"When did we stop using condoms, James?"

Lance looked baffled by the sudden question, but he collected himself and
answered calmly. "Right about that time when we our tests came back
negative, I guess. What-"

"Why did we do it?"

Lance was even more bewildered. "I think it had something to do with
wanting to be with each other, and only with each other, for the rest of
our lives. Sweetie, what brought this on?"

Now it was Marshall's turn to search for words.

"Having second thoughts?" Lance's casual tone contradicted the new tension
around his eyes.  Marshall looked up in alarm.

"God, no! Never, my love, never that." He moved closer, ending up in
Lance's lap with his arms around his neck. He made soothing noises while
rubbing his hands reassuringly over Lance's back and shoulders until he
relaxed again.

It seemed like Marshall was the more upset of the two. "God, I'm such a
fuck-up, always do everything wrong! Here I'm trying to fucking propose you
and I end up getting you all upset!"  When what he'd just said reached his
brains, he winced, lifted his eyes to meet Lance's, and offered him a
sickly grin. "Oops?"

"'Oops' is correct. Now let me get this straight: you were going to march
over here, all unexpectedly, give me a diamond ring and ask me to marry
you?"

"Um...yes?"

"Why?"

"Why what? Why do I want to marry you? Yeah, I know it's not legal, at
least not where we live, but how many people get married to get all the
legal rights anyway? Love isn't in the piece of paper, it's in the wish to
become one, and in the declaration of that wish.  Besides, I, um, kinda
promised your mother to make an honest man out of you..."

Marshall peered tentatively from under his lashes, chewing his lower lip
nervously. "I know we never talked about marriage, just living together and
stuff, but I'd like it. Of course if you don't want it-"

"So where's the diamond ring?" Lance's face was expressionless. Marshall
didn't break eye contact when he reached for his bathrobe pocket and
extracted the little velvet box with its precious contents, handing it to
Lance. He held his breath when Lance opened the box and gasped faintly,
staring at the ring. Marshall waited for a comment, but when none seemed
forthcoming he launched into an explanation.

"It's a 24 carat diamond in a titanium frame. Half of the little stones
surrounding it are saphires, half emeralds. It symbolizes...fuck, I don't
care what it symbolizes right now!  Do you like it? Hate it? I can take it
back-"

"Don't you dare touch my ring!" Startled by Lance's vehement protest,
Marshall looked up to meet his flashing, tear-filled eyes and blinding
smile. "My ring," Lance kissed the ring. "My sweet, silly man," Lance
kissed Marshall. "Put it on for me?"

Almost dizzy with relief and happiness, Marshall plucked the ring out of
its box and slid it into Lance's slender finger. They both admired it in
the candlelight. The stones were beautiful and clearly high quality, but
not overly large, so the effect was tasteful rather than flashy.

Blinking tears, Lance cleared his throat meaningfully. "Forgetting
something, hon?"

Marshall was puzzled. "Um..."

Lance sighed in fond exasperation. "You still haven't asked me to marry
you, you big oaf!"

"Oh! Damn...I'm really bad at this, aren't I?" They both laughed at that
and the tension eased.  "James Lance Bass, will you marry me and be mine to
love, cherish, and fuck for as long as we'll live?"

"Really eloquent, hon. Poetic, even. I love you."

"...well?"

"Well what?"

"James! You still have to answer, you know."

"I do?"

"Yes...?"

"I do."

"Yes!"


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!