Date: Wed, 01 Nov 2000 21:13:46 EST
From: Gabriella Morrison <sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Surprise Romance 47

Hi y'all!

Okay, okay, okay..it seems like forever has passed since I've updated
MSR. And I always promised that I would update on a regular basis and I
myself used to get mad at authors who never updated their stuff.

Well, the tables have turned kids. I've turned into one of those people and
it's not because I'm lazy and I don't want to write. It's because I have
more graphic design things than you can shake a stick at. And tests in my
non-art classes. Life has become hell in a handbasket for me and I'm sorry
for not updating sooner. Thank you to the people who have worried about me!
Y'all really made my day for caring.

Okay, enough bitching and moaning! Time to get onto the story!

A quick thank you to lots of people -- Dale, Damon, Ethan and a lot more,
but especially John, Killian, Val, and Justin for all of the emails, chats
and everything else. I love you guys so much...remember, email is
sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Use it, love it, know it.

Visit my website! Updated! New JC/Lance story to boot!
http://sweetheart.homepage.com

Oh, I've been nominated for Best Use of Lance in the NSYNC Fabrication Fan
Fiction Awards!!!! Wow! Someone nominated me! And now I'm up for an
award. Make my Christmas (since Lance with a strategically placed bow
doesn't seem to be a gift option)--vote for me? Please?????? Pretty
please???? Vote at http://jump.to/nsync_stories

And now...DISCLAIMER: Look, this is fiction. Complete and total fiction. I
don't know if Lance is gay. I'd like to and if he was then I certainly know
some nice boys who'd make good boyfriends for him. If you're not 18 or 21
then don't read it (or read it and don't tell anyone--but who am I do be
encouraging naughty behavior). And last thing: Chapter 47 is a little
kinky...just warning you....

Author's Note: Chapter 47 is dedicated to Clarkey, for without him, there
would be no Harris. I love ya sweetie.


My Surprise Romance

The Better to Dream of You

Chapter 47

In My Arms


I think I've said it before, but this summer should have been nicknamed,
`the summer of firsts' for me. I had delved into my first sexual
relationship, felt things that I had never felt before, I had gone on my
first tour (and hopefully, not my last) and now, I was experiencing my
first time in Florida.

Unlike other people my age, I had never been privileged enough to have
visited the Sunshine State. And now, here I was 21 years old and exploring
Florida for the first time ever. So far, as Lance drove through the sunny,
tree lined streets, it seemed nice enough. Friendly. Beautiful. And if I
were a straight boy, more bikini clad girls than you could shake a stick
at.

As Lance continued to drive through the streets, a happy smile appeared on
his face. "I really love this place, Stephen," he said as he rounded a
corner at top speed. I felt my heart fall to my shoes...no matter how much
I loved the man next to me, I still hated the way he drove. "I just can't
wait for you to see my house....I love it." He let out a slight
laugh. "Love it, but haven't been there since the tour began...funny, huh?"
Lance asked as pressed the accelerator once more, causing the car to go
even faster down the quaint side street.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna bust a gut that was so funny," I muttered under my
breath as my fingernails dug themselves in the faux leather of the
door. Luckily, either Lance hadn't heard me, or had blocked out my
comment--one of the two, when he suddenly turned down a more secluded,
private road, lined with property blocking shade trees. There weren't many
houses on the block, and they were spaced out so that they weren't on top
of each other. Clicking on his blinker, Lance suddenly turned into the
driveway of a large, Spanish styled house. It was modestly sized, a bit
angular in form and covered in dark, multicolored stone--simple, yet
elegant. I liked it a lot.

Parking his 4-runner in the house's driveway, Lance cut the engine off and
turned to me, a somewhat expectant look on his face. "So...this is my
house...what do you think of it so far?"

Nodding, I felt a smile creep onto my face. I could have joked and said
that I hated it, but by the look on my boyfriend's face, I could tell that
he was really proud of his house. And I didn't want to burst his bubble, so
I just smiled even wider. "I love it," I said honestly. "I really
do...Lance...it's wonderful."

A small breath left his lips and I could tell that he had been counting on
my opinion. "Thanks," he said, a relieved look crossing his face. "I like
it a lot--I had a lot of stuff remodeled inside--oh, what am I telling you
for?" He laughed and swung open his car door. "Let's get out of this car
and get inside so I can show you around."

Jumping out of the 4-Runner, I grabbed my knapsack and joined Lance as we
walked up the cobblestone path that led to the front door. Fumbling with
the keys, Lance tried a number of them before finding the right one that
unlocked the entrance.

"There!" he exclaimed triumphantly as we heard a `click'. "Got it! See what
being away for so long does to you?" Opening the door, Lance walked inside
and I followed him, closing and locking the door behind me. For a few
seconds, I just stood in the hallway and marveled at my surroundings. The
ceilings were high and arched, while pine colored beams ran across them for
support. A stone tiled pattern led the path into the living room, where
Lance had thrown his knapsack down on the plush, navy blue couch.

"So...what does my boyfriend think of my place?" Lance flopped down on the
couch, crossing one leg over the other as he waited for my answer. A smirk
forming on my lips, I walked over to the couch and fell on the empty space
next to him.

"Well, Lance..." I sighed, looking around the room with a critical
eye. "It's really great and can I say one thing?" A worried look appeared
on his face.

"What?" Lance asked, concern flooding his voice while he waited for my
answer. His eyes grew round as I continued to inspect the elegant looking
accessories and furniture that he had picked out. "What's wrong?"

Biting my lip to hold my laughter back, I attempted to give Lance a serious
look."Well...you really *are* gay Lance--you've got great taste. Nice
design sense..." Hearing my comment, Lance pulled one of the couches throw
pillows from in back of me and promptly bonked me over the head with it.
"Sorry," I apologized, as I rubbed my head where he had hit me. "I just
couldn't help myself...it's really a great place that you've got
here....well, what I've seen so far. I've only seen the hallway and the
living room--" I arched my eyebrows upwards at him. "When are we gonna get
to the good stuff--like the bedroom?"

"Oh, aren't we the eager one?" Lance teased me as he got up and pulled me
off the couch. "Well, if you're so eager, why don't we just go upstairs and
see it?" His eyes took on an almost dreamlike appearance as he leisurely
looped an arm around my waist, waiting for my answer.

"Okay," I answered immediately, causing him to smile. Lance pulled me
towards him and our lips met. Not breaking apart for quite awhile, we lost
ourselves in the spontaneity of our passionate kiss, and I allowed myself
to enjoy the way his lips felt pressed against mine. Fingers quickly
running through my hair, Lance allowed them to trail down, cradling my
cheeks in his hands. I felt my muffled breaths increase and my pulse
quicken, as his hands slowly began to work down my back...

The sudden ring of the doorbell jolted Lance and I out of our kiss, nearly
causing me to fly straight through the ceiling. Looking startled, it took
Lance a couple of seconds to gain his composure, lost from our impassioned
embrace that we had been enjoying.

"I wonder who it is?" Lance growled as he walked over to the large panel
windows that were covered by sheer light blue drapes. Parting the fabric, a
scowl appeared on his handsome face when he saw the interrupter.

"Guess who?" he muttered bitterly as he walked into the hallway. Giving me
a *look*, Lance rested his hand on the doorknob, waiting to see what my
answer would be.

"Who?" I asked, completely clueless to who might have felt the need to
bother us. Looking back, I realized how ditzy I truly was. Shaking his head
helpless, Lance just turned the doorknob and in a matter of seconds, I
received my answer: it was none other than my wonderful cousin and her
boyfriend. Yup, thank you Cynthia and JC for ruining another
soon-to-be-perfect moment between Lance and I. `Great timing, you
two--Bravo', I thought resentfully, trying not to let my disappointment
show on my face.

"Hi Stevie!" Cynthia squealed as she rushed into Lance's house, nearly
knocking him over with her pent-up excitement. "Isn't Florida great??? I
*love* it so far!" Wrapping her arms around my neck in a welcoming hug,
Cynthia reminded me of someone who had way too much sugar and caffeine. Her
hangover had all but disappeared, and her violet eyes were bright and
shining as she pulled away from me, turning to give Lance and impromptu
hug.

"Hey Cynthia," Lance said, trying his best to sound cheerful. But I could
attest to how he felt inside--completely let down, like a balloon who had
just been deflated. "How are you two doing?"

"Oh great!" Cynthia exclaimed speaking for the both of them. Her voice was
bubbly and excited as she backed up towards Josh. "Just wonderful..."
Flashing a secretive look at he boyfriend, Cynthia suddenly burst out
laughing. "Aren't we???" she exclaimed between giggles.

A shy, sneaky grin crossed Josh's face and his face soon took on an
expression that matched my cousin's. "Yup, we certainly are." He reached
out and encircled her waist, drawing my cousin's hips next to his and for a
few seconds, Lance and I were lost as the two of them shared a long,
lengthy giggle over a secretive, private joke.

I quickly glanced at my boyfriend, and shared a look of my own with him. I
just wanted the two of them to get out of there--let them giggle and laugh
over their own little affairs by themselves. We had much more serious
business to get down to...

"Anyways," Cynthia finally said, trying to recapture a normal look on her
face. "We dropped Joey off before at Chris's apartment--we kinda had a
fight at the diner," she sighed, rolling her eyes at her past events of the
day, before continuing on, "--and then Josh and I were planning to go out
to lunch--" She glanced downwards at her elegant silver watch. "Oops, I
mean dinner--it's getting kinda late--and we were wondering if you two
wanted to come along with us." A knowing look appeared on her face once
more. "That is, if you two don't have *other* plans--dinner in bed, eating
off of each other's ass or something." A self-satisfied smirk appeared on
Cynthia's lips, knowing that she had zinged us good. Daring to sneak a look
at my boyfriend, I saw that his face was the color of a fire engine,
looking like he wanted to crumple to the floor and die at any second.

If I had a dollar for everytime that my cousin made some sort of sexually
suggestive commentary regarding Lance and my relationship, I would never
even have to worry about my mother's will, I thought as my face began to
match Lance's. But the worst thing about her comment, was that it was
true--Lance and I probably would have stayed in bed the entire night and
she knew it. "No, we aren't," I lied through my teeth. "In fact, Lance and
I were planning to head out to dinner ourselves--I think we'd love to go
out with you two, right Lance?" I asked pointedly, turning my back to
Cynthia and Josh so that I could cross my eyes and stick my tongue out at
him at the same time.

"Uh...right," Lance said lamely, averting my gaze. He was trying his
damnest not to laugh at my goofy expression by staring at the carpet
underneath his feet. "In fact--why don't you two get comfortable and
Stephen and I will go and get fixed up, alright? Stephen?" He nodded his
head towards the staircase, making his way up them.

Looking over my shoulder at Cynthia, I noticed the savvy grin on her face
that clearly read, `I *know* what you two are going to do up there'.

"Don't take *too* long Stevie," she teased me, while taking a seat on the
couch next to Josh. "Although I'm sure you and Lancey have mastered the art
of the quickie, right?" Snickering, Josh slapped a hand over his mouth
while Cynthia accentuated her wisecrack with a big wink. I tried to hide
the sigh that desperately wanted to leave my mouth. As much as I could have
happily strangled my cousin at that moment, I did my damnest to just ignore
her, while trekking up the staircase. Getting angry would be hopeless, I
told myself. I might as well expect these sort of comments for the rest of
my life--or as long as Lance and I would be together.

Once I reached the second floor, I found that my boyfriend was nowhere in
sight. "Lance?" I called out, looking at the various doors that lined the
hallway. I noticed that Lance had a lot of rooms, and my heart swelled when
I remembered his offer for me to live with him. Smiling to myself, I
thought of waking up with Lance everyday...that would be heaven. Not going
to happen, but heaven nonetheless. Turning my attention back to finding
Lance's whereabouts, I called out his name once more. "Lance? Where are
you?"

"In here--second room on the left, Stephen--" Lance's voice rang through
the stark air of the second floor. Following the sound of his voice, I
stopped dead in my tracks once I stood in the . doorway of his room. It was
a beautiful, I noted as my eyes took in the perimeter of the space in front
of me. Cream colored walls, a thick black rug covering the floor and Lance
standing in the middle of it all, thoughtfully examining a couple of shirts
he had laid out on the bed.

The bed, I thought dejectedly, noticing how comfortable it looked. It was
king sized, covered with tasteful black and burgundy trimmed satin
sheets. It looked so cozy and inviting, I momentarily thought about running
downstairs and telling Cynthia and Josh that there was a change of
plans. But knowing that that excuse wouldn't go over too hot with them (as
well as opening Lance and I up to a plethora of jokes and taunts), I held
back the sigh that desperately wanted to slip my throat and forced myself
to enter reality once more.

"What do you think?" Lance asked, noticing that I had entered the room."Do
you think I should go with the white shirt or the brown one?" Walking over
to him, I took a place in back of him, wrapped my arms around his waist,
and rested my head on his shoulder.

"I think you look better in nothing," I told him honestly, placing a tiny
kiss at the nape of his neck. "But that's just my opinion."

Laughing, Lance turned around so that he could look at me. He placed his
strong hands on my shoulders and chose to gaze into my eyes for a couple of
seconds. "Funny isn't it? I happen to think the same thing about you," he
ruminated, before placing a quick kiss on my lips. Suddenly realizing that
I had finally made it into his bedroom, an interesting look entered his
bright, luminescent eyes. "So...." he trailed off, drawing my body a little
closer to his. "This is my bedroom...you like?"

"Like?" I asked, pretending to look a little taken aback. "Whatever
happened to the word `love'? And when do we get to christen the bed?" I
asked eagerly, acting like a kid on Christmas morning. "Huh? Huh?"

"Patience, Stephen," Lance sighed, looking forlornly at the bed in back of
him. "Patience..." He looked back at me and I saw a glimmer in his
eye. "Christen the bed, huh? Nice term there...wonder why I didn't come up
with it sooner?"

"Hmmm, I wonder," I murmured, not really concentrating on his words, as my
concentration focused on just getting that dinner with Cynthia and Josh
over as soon as we could.  "I wouldn't worry about it though...I'm sure
we'll get to do it soon enough, right?"

"We better," Lance commented, his expression one of dead
seriousness. "Cause if we don't, I will be a very unhappy boy....*very*
unhappy." He followed up his words by sticking out his lower lip out in an
adorable pout.

"Now now, we wouldn't want that, would we?" I questioned, while unwrapping
my arms from his waist and walked over to the two shirts he had laid
out. "So which shirt are you wearing?"

"I don't know--I think the brown one--I have no idea what restaurant Josh
and Cynth have in mind, so I think it's safer to go with the dressier one,"
Lance said sensibly as he took the shirt off the hanger. He looked over at
me and smiled. "Do you need a shirt to wear? There's plenty in my
closet--go and knock yourself out."

"Thanks," I said gratefully. I walked over to the open closet and marveled
for a couple of seconds, stunned by the sheer amount of clothes Lance had
stockpiled in there. All kinds of shirts and pants and jackets...very nice,
I thought as my eyes were drawn to a light blue button down shirt. Pulling
it off of the rack, I realized that it was exactly identical to Lance's,
save for its color. A smile crossed my face at the idea of us wearing
matching outfits--that would have been way too funny, I thought as I
pictured the two of us looking alike.

"Hey Lance?" I called out, backing out of the closet, shirt in hand. "What
do you think? Twins?" I held up the shirt, modeling it against myself. "We
could play that game."

"Oh please, Stephen," Lance rolled his eyes good-naturedly, getting my
joke. "There are tons of games I have in mind, but dressing alike is
definitely not one of them." He looked at me pointedly and his deep voice
had taken on a somewhat tempting tone, making me weak in the knees. His
eyes ran over my body as I stood there, and before I could become too
enticed by Lance's oh-so-seductive words, I took it upon myself to
disappear back into his closet. I had to keep my mind focused on finding a
shirt and not on what kind of games Lance had in mind...although that
thought was *much* more entertaining.

After a few seconds of deliberation, I picked out a lightweight crimson
colored shirt.  Stripping off my shirt, I quickly changed into the new one
and found that it fit me perfectly. Reveling in the feeling of wearing
something that had touched Lance's skin, I couldn't help but smile. I had
been doing a lot of smiling lately and I liked it. Humming to myself, I
turned to walk out of the closet, only to find Lance standing almost on top
of me.

"Ack!" I exclaimed in surprise. "You nearly scared the pants off of me!"
Realizing the words that had automatically popped out of my mouth, another
blush passed over my face. "Nice choice of words, huh?" I asked Lance
sheepishly. " See what I have on my mind?"

"Yup," Lance nodded, his voice thick with desire. "And don't think I don't
like it, Stephen." His voice had dropped a few notches, as walking over to
meet me halfway. Before I could respond, Lance had placed a very passionate
kiss on my lips, not even allowing me to utter a word. For the next few
seconds, my mind concentrated on the feeling of Lance and I pressed
together, the way his tongue slowly met mine until they touched and the
feel of his hands supporting the small of my back. You'd think after two
people kiss so many times, the feeling would have lost all meaning. But
everytime Lance and I kissed, it felt as wonderful as the first time our
lips had touched.

"Whoa," I gasped after we parted, feeling as though someone had whisked the
rug from under my feet. My head was swimming and my skin was crawling with
pleasure. `Did Lance really have to go and do that?', I asked myself, while
he examined my feverish appearance. We remained silent for the next few
seconds, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment between us.

"Wanna get going?" Lance finally asked, his eyes growing dark with emotion
as he slowly slid his hand up and down my back. "I don't want Cynthia and
Josh getting all suspicious down there..."

"Okay," I managed to squeak out, my voice coming out about six octaves
higher than normal. How one person could wreck havoc on you, I thought as
Lance and I left his bedroom and began to head back downstairs. But then,
that was Lance...and that was why I loved him so much...




The four of us had dinner at a very nice, moderately fancy Italian
restaurant. Once we had arrived there (Josh had driven Cynthia in his car,
while Lance had taken his 4-Runner) and we were hidden in the shadows of
the parking lot, Lance took my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze as
he did so. As we entered the restaurant, a couple of the teenage patrons
dining there had immediately noticed the two members of `N Sync and began
screaming their heads off. I saw the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look
that appeared on suddenly appeared on Lance's face as the shrill maniacal
shouting hit our ears. Immediately, Lance dropped my hand like a hot potato
and shoved his hands into his pockets. Being the gracious gentlemen they
were, Lance and Josh (excuse me, *JC* to the teenagers) signed a couple of
autographs while Cynthia and I looked on. A few seconds later, the four of
us were whisked off to the restaurants roped off, VIP section, away from
the still-screaming mob of girls.

"Forgot what that was like," Lance murmured, shaking his head as we took
our seats at one of the restaurant's elegant cherry wood tables. "I just
got so used to being with you..." Looking at me, I could see the weariness
of the whole ordeal in his eyes. I knew what he meant. Seeing those teenage
girls wanting a piece of my boyfriend to take home with them, just reminded
me who I was dating. It wasn't some guy from school or some guy that I had
met through a mutual friend: Lance was a pop star, on the cover of
magazines, seen dancing and singing in videos. Millions of girls and gay
guys fantasized about him, being his significant other, but I was the lucky
one. I was the individual who got to kiss Lance every night before we went
to bed. I was the one who slept with him. And I was a regular, normal guy
plucked out of anytown USA. That kinda shook me back to Earth, no matter
how much I didn't want to face reality. I had forgotten just how huge
Lance's public persona really was and suddenly, the experiences of sex
alfresco by a pond and in the backseat of his 4-runner seemed more than
just naughty--they were risky, dangerous threats to his career. Had we gone
insane those nights before, giving in to what our bodies desired instead of
thinking sensibly??? It certainly was something to think about...

"Stephen?" Lance asked as he gently nudged my leg with his foot, in an
attempt to bring me back to life. "Stephen? Hello...."

Shaking myself out of my trance, I was greeted with three concerned
stares. "Hey," I said, a bit agitated by my thoughts. "What's up? What's
going on?"

"I asked you if knew what you were ordering?" Lance repeated, frowning at
me. Worry had crept into his eyes as he watched me pick up the leather
bound menu sitting in front of me.

"Oh," I said, opening it up to the section of expensively priced
entrees. "I'm not sure yet....what are you having?"

"I don't know," Lance said, switching his gaze from me to his menu. "I
could go for some lasagna or something. Not sure." His eyes fell on me once
more, distress clearly evident in them. "You sure you're okay, Stephen?
It's not like you to not answer me..."

"I'm *fine*," I said a bit too harshly, as I flipped the laminated pages of
the menu with force. "Don't worry, please," I added, my voice growing
slightly resentful. I desperately wanted to reach over and pick up his hand
to show him how much I cared for him, but I didn't. There were other people
in there and if I picked up another man's hand, wouldn't that be obvious
that Lance and I weren't just friends??? How many guys do you see pick up
another guy's hand when neither of them are gay?

I remained quiet throughout most of the meal, even when Cynthia managed to
spill half a plate of Fettuccini Alfredo all over our waiter. My mind had
focused in on the past events of the last few days, where, after enough
examination, it seemed that Lance and I had engaged in more sex than we had
ever had before. That was more than little embarrassing, I thought as I
took a sip of the red wine that the waiter had just poured for the four of
us. I had gone from being celibate to being a nymphomaniac in a matter of
hours. Why? I asked myself as our orders came and were placed in front of
us. Why had I decided that sex was the answer to everything? *It
wasn't*. And though it felt wonderful (especially when I knew that the
person I was doing it with, loved me), it wasn't the answer to the problems
in my life, but merely a substitute for crying over my deceased mother and
the mess that she had left me in.

And it made Lance happy. Hell, it made me happy. I'm not going to deny
that, but there had to be a time when you say, `Stop it already and get
back to real life.' Those rabid fans had reopened up my eyes. Lance was my
boyfriend, yes, but we each had responsibilities and commitments that we
had to remember. Didn't Lance even say that he wanted to quit `N Sync last
night? That itself was wrong for so many reasons, I'd need fifty hours just
to explain them all. As I shoved the first forkful of noodles into my
mouth, my mind reeled itself back to the night that Lance and I had double
dated with Justin and Harris. They had made us extremely uncomfortable with
their overtly sexual behavior, and now look at Lance and I.  We had turned
into them...you know what they say--What goes around, comes around...

As I twirled my spaghetti around on my fork and became oblivious to my
surroundings, I sank deeper and deeper into my pool of thoughts. Over the
past few days, Lance had made me feel desirable and dare I say it, sexier?
He had made me feel good...it was that moment after the exciting part that
I loved the most. The part where I would hold Lance, or he would hold me,
and we wouldn't say a word to each other. He was at his most breathtaking
right after he came...the look of sheer vulnerability that lingered in his
beautiful chartreuse eyes as he stared at me. Seeing that moment made me
the happiest man on Earth...it made me forget about everything that
bothered me and allowed me to sink into a world where Lance held the number
one position...We had a bond that I had never ever experience in my
life. Why should we wreck it just because we needed to feel it all the
time, every moment of the day...night...it didn't make sense
anymore. Nothing made sense to me anymore.

"Stephen???" I shook myself out of the fog that I had sank into and looked
over at my boyfriend, the man who the thoughts rolling around in my mind
were about. As I met his eyes, I noticed Lance just wasn't looking at me
with concern, but dead-on worry.

"Yes? What's wrong?"" I asked, placing my fork on the edge of the plate. I
reached for my napkin and wiped my lips off before turning back to him with
a cold stare in my eyes. `Don't show any emotion to him...we're in public',
I told myself. `I have to keep remembering that we're in public. There
might be photographers around.'

"Nothing's wrong with me, but I *am* a little worried about you." Lance
kept his voice low and quiet, so that I would be the only one able to hear
his words of alarm. "You've barely said anything throughout the entire
meal...are you okay?"  His light emerald colored eyes sparkling in the dim
light of the restaurant, Lance began to reach out for my hand. But just as
his fingertips brushed against my skin, I pulled my arm away as though his
touch burned me.

"Stop it," I hissed, as I shifted my seat even further away from his. Why
in God's name was Lance doing this to me? He was turning into the snake who
teased Adam and Eve with the forbidden fruit--and we all knew how they
ended up. Did Lance really want to get caught, just because he couldn't
wait until we back to his car? Doing my best to avoid Lance's bewildered
gaze, I couldn't possibly miss the clearly hurt expression that lingered in
his eyes. I just wanted to tell lean over and whisper in his ear why I was
acting like this, that I was only doing it for the good of his career. But
for some reason, the words refused to leave my lips and for the rest of the
meal, I kept to myself, shoving the pasta into my mouth so that I would
have an excuse for not speaking. It was an uncomfortable meal, to say the
least. And the bottles of wine that the waiter kept bringing us didn't help
one bit. It only made me more paranoid, made Lance crankier, and Cynthia
and Josh a little more uncontrolled. Great, one freak, one grouch and two
drunks. Fabulous.

Where there was a lull in the conversation that Cynthia and Josh were
engaged in, he leaned back in his chair and eyed Lance and I, with a
drunken gaze."I have an idea--" he suddenly announced, his speech a little
garbled from the after effects of the alcohol. "Well, it's not a great
idea, but...what do you say we go and drop by Justin's house now? I know
that was the original plan, but..." His shaky words trailed off into an
incoherent drunken babble, as he polished off the last drops of his wine.

"Now?" Lance asked in surprise, his pale eyes flashing
bewilderment. "Jayce...it's..." He checked his watch. "It's nine
o'clock...what if he's not home...and I thought we were going over to
Justin's house tomorrow..."

"So what?" Cynthia asked, her voice just as slurred as Josh's, if not a
little more. "Just a little drop over, say hello and that's it...what do
you say?" I looked over at Lance, waiting for his response. I expected him
to meet my gaze, checking to see if I wanted to go too, but his eyes never
left the table in front of him. I felt stung by his rejection, but I
realized that I deserved that treatment. I was the one who pulled away from
him. I turned my attention back to my very unhappy looking boyfriend.

"Sure," Lance agreed, unconsciously tapping his utensils against his
plate. A funny look crossed his face as he continued to talk. "Why not?
We'll drop by and say hello...it's not that late..." He stood up suddenly,
pushing his chair away from the table with a sickening scrape. "Excuse me
everyone...I have to go to the bathroom." A little tipsy himself, Lance
began ambling towards the men's room, and as much as I wanted to follow
him, I didn't. I knew that if I did follow him, we would only fight. We
both had alcohol running through our bloodstreams--I needed to talk to him
when we were alone and away from the prying eyes of the public surrounding
us.

As I sat there and stared at my hands, which I had neatly folded in my lap,
I noticed that Josh and Cynthia were peering drunkenly at me. They knew
that something had happened between Lance and I and that it wasn't
good. But I certainly wasn't in the mood to digress....

A few seconds later, Lance came back to the table and looked at Josh and
Cynthia. "Well? Are we going?" Nodding, my cousin and her boyfriend managed
to stand up without falling straight down to the ground, looked at each
other and giggled at their unsteadiness. Rolling my eyes, I looked over at
Lance and noticed that he was staring down at his feet, looking utterly
dejected. Feeling my gaze on his, Lance picked his head back up and offered
me a small smile. I didn't return it though and instead focused all my
concentration on Josh and Cynthia. They were really drunk, I thought as I
stood up. I was a little buzzed, but I could still see straight and
immediately, I came up with an excuse so that Lance and I wouldn't be seen
leaving together.

"You know?" I said, turning to Lance. "I think I'm gonna drive them two
over to Justin's--I don't think neither of them are in any shape to drive."

Lance was struck speechless for the second time that night, his mouth
dropping clear to his shoes. "Stephen..." he trailed off, shaking his head
in wonder. "Why...I don't get it...*why* are you acting like this?" Not
bothering to answer Lance, I walked around to where Josh was giggling his
head off and took his car keys from the pocket of his jacket. Looking back
at my boyfriend, I saw an angry look pass over his face as he yanked his
car keys out of the pocket of his pants and stormed out of the restaurant,
without even saying good-bye. As I watched his figure disappear out of the
restaurant's VIP section, Cynthia stumbled over to me.

"Stevie...did you and Lancey have a fight?" she whispered, her eyes round
with shock. She of the all-knowing gaze and hearing, had heard my decision
to take them over to Justin's and had seen Lance leave the restaurant
without me in tow.

"No..." I sighed. I closed my eyes briefly and still saw Lance's despondent
face staring back at me. I didn't want to hurt him, I said to myself as the
three of us began to leave the restaurant. I didn't...I had hurt him
before, and I had just done it again. And things had been going so well
between us...why had I thought those things? What happened to my "fuck it"
attitude?

With one last sigh leaving my lips, Josh, Cynthia and I left the restaurant
just in time to see Lance drive off in his 4-runner. Standing on the curb,
I watched his taillights disappear in the night, the sinking feeling in my
stomach ballooning out into full-blown torment. What had I done???




"I can't believe that Justin is living with Harris," Cynthia marveled as
she adjusted her car seat, so that she was in a laying position. "I
mean--it would have been nice if he told us, right?"

I sighed and held myself back from stopping the car and walking back to
Lance's house. This night, with it's promise of me Lance having a little
fun at his house, had suddenly turned into a nightmare. Lance and I had
somehow wound up fighting, no thanks to me, and now Justin. We had driven
over to Justin's house, only to find his mother, Lynn, saying that he had
temporality moved in with his best friend--Harris.

"Best friend my ass," I muttered to myself, as I rounded the car around a
corner. "When the hell is *he* going to tell his mom?" I was cranky and
grumpy. I had a fight with my boyfriend and I was not in a good mood. Being
social was the last thing I wanted to do right now.

"A man's gotta have his privacy," I said, returning my thoughts back to
Cynthia's statement. As I came to a red light and tapped my foot on the
brake to stop the car, I craned my neck backwards to see if Josh was
okay. He had taken the position of lying flat on his stomach in the back of
his car and was *still* giggling to himself about absolutely nothing.

"Josh, man? You okay?" I called out. I'll admit, I wasn't really worried
about him. I only asked because it was polite and I didn't want to find a
dead member of `N Sync when I stopped the car. Imagine the headlines with
that story...

"I'm fiiinnnneeee," Josh answered in a singsong voice. "But I wish my girl
was back here--you don't mind being a chauffeur do you, Stephen? Because if
you do, then I'll keep my mouth shup--whoops, I mean, *shut*." I heard Josh
rustling around in the back, before suddenly placing his face next to
mind. "I meant shut." He repeated, trying not to laugh while he repeated
his words. "Shut, shut, shut. That's a funny word--shut. Right, Cynthia?"

I did my best to ignore his drunken ramblings while driving to Harris's
house. I didn't think this was a good idea--crashing his house just to see
Justin. `Why were we doing this?', I asked myself as Cynthia and Josh began
to repeat the word `shut' over and over in unison.

This is not funny, I heard myself saying. This is NOT funny anymore. I want
Lance. I miss Lance. Why couldn't I just have told him to keep his hands
off of me until we got back to the car? I was so stupid sometimes, I could
kick myself.

"Stop it you two," I blurted out, ready to scream at the top of my
lungs. "Josh, I have no idea on where Harris lives--could you help me out
here instead of acting like a jerk?"

Josh stopped his giggling and began to grumble under his breath, but
obligingly helped me out. As he gave me directions, I soon found the street
that Lynn had told me Harris resided on. As I turned the car, I immediately
noticed the change in my surroundings. The houses gradually turned into
mansions and grew more secluded from view, hidden by oversized trees and
well-placed shrubs. Tall wrought iron gates surrounded each mansion and I
would have never found Harris's house if I hadn't seen Lance's 4-Runner
parked in the driveway of one of the mansions. And even that was a little
hard to see.

Pulling into the driveway, I saw Lance standing at the door, talking
animatedly to a curly haired man. After I parked the car, and helped my
cousin manage to stand on her own two feet, the three of us made our way up
the expansive lawn and to the doorway to where Harris was standing. And
believe me, he did not look happy.

"JC? Stephen? Cynthia?" he called out in disbelief as Lance slipped inside
of the mansion. "What are you doing here?" His voice was filled with
anguish as his aqua eyes watched us walk up to the doorstep.

"Hi Harris!!!!" Cynthia squealed as she rushed up to meet him. Wrapping her
arms around his neck, she jumped on him like she's done so many times to so
many different people. But Harris never knew what was coming, and wound up
falling backwards onto the floor, Cynthia still attached to him.

"What are you doing?" he cried out as Cynthia rolled off of him. Helping
him up, Cynthia began to laugh quietly to herself as he brushed off his
expensive looking clothes.

"Just saying hello," she said sweetly. "You know, I haven't seen you since
the tour ended, sweetie--and I don't want to lose touch with you." Looking
at my cousin like she had gone insane, Harris could only stare at her for a
few seconds like he was in the middle of a bad dream.

"Well...hello then," Harris said, more than a bit flustered by our surprise
visit. "What are you doing here on such short notice?"

"We just decided to say hello," I said, speaking for all of us. Cynthia and
Josh were too involved in each other to pay attention to what Harris was
saying, and Lance had disappeared somewhere, leaving me to answer
questions. "Actually, it was more of Josh's idea--we were planning to visit
you tomorrow. Sorry that we didn't call ahead or anything."

"Well..." Harris trailed off, looking backwards up the black, towering
spiraling staircase that led to the upstairs. "Just and I did have
something planned..." His handsome face turned bright red at what he had
just said and a clearly uncomfortable look crossed his face. I had seen
that look before. I had seen it on my own face when Cynthia or Josh or
someone interrupted Lance and I just when we were about to have a little
`downtime' to ourselves. And I hated when they did that. Judging from the
unhappy look on his face, I knew that Harris was probably ready to murder
us.

"Well then we'll leave then." Harris spun around to see Lance walking down
the steps, his face the color of a beet. Raising my eyebrow, I noticed the
somewhat queasy expression that had popped up on his face, as he joined the
four of us at the doorway. He looked like he had seen something that he
would have rather not wanted to see. I was dying to ask him if he was okay,
but was cut off as Lance began to speak once more. "Look, we'll come back
tomorrow, don't worry..."

"No, no," Harris muttered, closing the door behind Cynthia and Josh, who
were now passionately entwined in each other's arms, sucking face like they
hadn't seen each other in days. Hosting one of her perfectly shaped legs
over one of Josh's arms, the two of them completely lost each other in
their drunken moment of passion. Letting out a sigh filled with a mixture
of disgust and sadness, Harris turned back to Lance and I and gave us a
sickly smile.

"Why don't you two make yourselves comfortable in the living room," Harris
said as he began walking towards the staircase. "And I'll go get Justy--"
He stopped suddenly, slightly embarrassed at using his boyfriend's nickname
in front of us. Not that Cynthia or Josh even noticed, since they were
groping each other in ways that I didn't care to see.

Turning away from the two lovebirds, I slowly began to walk to the living
room, with Lance following behind. My footsteps were shrouded in silence,
save for the soles of Lance's shoes going clack-clack against the tiled oak
wood floor. I attempted to put my spat with Lance behind me, as my eyes
examined my surroundings. Harris's house was elegant, expensive--beautiful
art deco paintings hung gracefully on the walls, marble statues sat on top
of magnificent pieces of furniture. My head began to swim with amazement. I
wondered how he managed to afford all of this. I mean, I knew that Harris
had a good amount of money under his belt, but I never imagined that he was
able to afford *this*. Not when he was just starting out as an opera
singer--but then, you never know about people. Not until you get to know
them.

I finally reached Harris's living room and it had seemed to me that the
walk took forever. Making a beeline for one of the leather couches, I
practically threw myself on it. And as I did this, I noticed that Lance had
taken a seat in a leather armchair perpendicular from where I was, not
bothering to meet my gaze.

`Fine,' I fumed inwardly, doing my best to ignore him sitting there. Once
again, Lance and I had entered a ridiculous realm of petty fighting, that
was no doubt, my fault. I had pulled away from him at dinner, and while I
could have apologized for that, I didn't. We were both a little stubborn in
nature, so why should this be any exception?

Just as I was sinking deeper into my black mood, Justin walked into the
living room, his face turning scarlet as he met Lance's eyes. Jerking his
head away as fast as he could, Justin noticed me sitting there, alone. For
a second, his eyes briefly drifted to Lance, who was now staring at his
hands, folded in his lap before looking back at me once more.

"Stephen?" Justin asked tentatively, the blush on his cheeks fading
slightly as he noticed Lance and I sitting apart.. "How have you been...are
you..." He paused for a second, as he unconsciously reached up to pat his
kinky hair. "Are you mad at me?"

I frowned momentarily at him, confused to what he just said. "Mad at you?"
I asked, bewildered by his words. "What are you talking about?"

Right as Justin was about to speak, my cousin and Josh noisily came
crashing into the room, giggling to themselves as they fell onto another
empty leather couch. Resting her head in Josh's lap, she looked up at her
boyfriend with an adoring gaze, while he gently stroked her hair away from
her eyes. I looked at them with a twinge of envy...they were so close. They
were happy...Lance and I had been like that only a few hours ago and
now--now we were sitting a few feet away from each other, not even
speaking. Nice. Florida was really nice now, I thought sarcastically as
Justin took a seat next to me.

"I'm talking about me telling Lance about your mom," he said softly,
looking downwards. "I was kinda nervous when I heard that you guys dropped
in. I know you said that you didn't want Lance knowing about your mom, but
Stephen..." He looked into my eyes for a moment, his normally cocky
demeanor fading fast. "I had to tell Lance. I *had* to. It wasn't right..."

I gave the worried `N Syncer a soft smile, touched by his caring behavior,
his normal cocky demeanor gone. "Justin...To tell you the truth--I
completely forgot about you telling Lance," I said, my voice low so that my
boyfriend wouldn't hear us. "And I was mad a first--but now? Now I'm just
glad that Lance has been with me through this whole ordeal--so really, I
should be thanking you," I finished up.

"Whew," Justin sighed, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. "I was
kinda worried that you'd kick my ass or something....thanks for
understanding, Stephen." Just then, Harris strode into the room, looking
elegant in a pair of brown shorts, and a matching long-sleeved ribbed
t-shirts with the Prada name emblazed across it. Justin got up from the
couch, instantly forgetting me once he laid eyes on Harris and rushed over
to him. As he did this, I did a double take and realized that Justin's
outfit was exactly identical to his boyfriend's, except that his was
red. `They matched', I thought, amused at the sight of them. Remembering my
earlier comment to Lance about us wearing matching t-shirts, I looked over
at him, hopeful that he would be looking at me, with the same amused look
that was present on my face. But instead, I saw Lance staring at Cynthia
and Josh, with what could only be described as a look of bitterness on his
handsome face.

I hated the way he looked just then. And I knew why Lance looked that
way--because of me. I had made my boyfriend miserable once more. Good
going, Peterson, I thought resentfully as I shifted in my seat. Fuck my
stubbornness. I needed to apologize to Lance. And I needed to do it now.

Just as I was about to get out of my seat, Harris cleared his throat,
trying to get our attention. Wait, let me rephrase that--he was trying to
get Cynthia and Josh's attention, since Lance and I were just sitting
there, looking bored as bored could be. It was at that exact moment, I
realized how truly boring my life was without Lance.

"Hey...hey," Harris did his best to raise his voice above the giggling and
cooing of Cynthia and Josh, but it was no use. It wasn't until Harris
walked over to what turned out to be a liquor cabinet, that Cynthia sat up
suddenly, springing to life.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, watching as Harris opened up the cabinets mahogany
doors, revealing more liquor bottles than you could ever dream of. "Where
did you get all that booze?" she asked, clearly interested, her eyes
gleaming with the anticipation of drinking some more.

"Oh, all this alcohol isn't mine," Harris laughed as he began to remove
some of the bottles from their place on the shelves. "This is really my
uncle's place--he spends the summers in Italy and he promised me that I'd
have full run of this place in the summer." Lifting an eyebrow, Harris gave
the five of us a smirk. "But knowing my uncle, he won't care if we take a
few of these..." Closing the cabinet back up, Harris turned to face
us. "Well....I have an idea...who wants to play a drinking game?"

"A drinking game?" Cynthia exclaimed, her head still in Josh's lap. "Aren't
we all a little old to play a drinking game?" Looking at the four of us,
her pretty face crumpled into a pout when she saw the rest of us smiling.

"It might be fun," Josh laughed as he continued to stroke his fingers
through Cynthia's soft red hair. "I mean, come on Cynth--you like to
drink." Holding back a snort of laughter, i realized that Josh's words were
the understatement of the year. Unconsciously, my eyes slid back over to
Lance, who I found was looking at me with a small grin on his lips. We
exchanged a look, as though we were saying, "Cynthia? Turning down a drink?
Pshaw..." And then our connection was broken, as Lance suddenly darted his
eyes back to the floor in front of him. It was as though he had realized
that we were still not speaking to each other. Feeling like my heart now
weighed a ton, I bit my lip in disappointment as I turned my attention back
to Harris who was now spreading the bottles out on the coffee table, while
Cynthia, Josh and Justin sat around it. I waited until Lance had taken a
place as well, and then I followed suit.

"Rules are simple," Harris announced, as he took a seat next to
Justin. "One person picks a victim of their choice and asks them a
question--if that person refuses to answer, they have to do a shot of the
beverage of their choice." Giving us a charming grin, Harris eyed us,
picking out his prey.

"Cynthia?" he finally asked, raising his eyebrows. "Ladies first--Why don't
you start?" Sitting herself up, and resting her elbows on her knees, I
could see the wheels in my cousin's head turning as her mind flipped
through the various questions that she could ask us.

"Okay," she finally spoke. "Stevie, I'll start with you." Flashing a evil
look in her eyes, "How many times have you and Lancey done it since you
started going out?"

A look of horror crossed my face as Cynthia's question hit my
ears. "What!?!?" I exclaimed as everyone around me, save for Lance, burst
into laughter. `Oh really funny', I thought angrily. `That's no one's
business at all.'

"Come on Stevie--you gotta talk or drink, one of the two," Cynthia laid out
her ultimatum as she rubbed her hands together. "We don't have all day, you
know." She leaned forward and waited for my answer, and I felt a blush
creep up my face at lightening speed.

"Give me the drink," I said indigently, as I reached out for a shot glass
and the bottle of vodka. "I refuse to answer that one."  Out of the corner
of my eye, I noticed Lance giving me a relieved look as I poured my drink
into one of the clear shot glasses. In one tilt of my head, I had quickly
thrown the shot of alcohol back, as it burned a path down my
throat. "Gahhh!" I exclaimed, shuddering at the taste, while everyone
around me clapped wildly.

"My cousin the wuss," Cynthia announced as she giggled. "But I think we all
know the answer--about sixty times--one for every day since they met--maybe
a hundred twenty--twice a day..." I tried my best to shoot her a dirty
look, but I just couldn't. I really didn't care what she had to say--I
hadn't told anyone about Lance and I, and that was all that
mattered. "Okay, Stevie--it's your turn--ask a question."

I took a deep breath, eying the five people around me. It would have been
too easy to get Cynthia back, so I went to the next best person. "Josh,
this ones for you..." I said, propping my elbows on the seat of the couch
in back of me. "Tell me...is my cousin a big tease? Or does she give you
exactly what you want?"  Justin, Harris and Lance began to laugh
uncontrollably at my question, while Josh's face turned as bright red as
mine did before.

"Awww, come on, Stephen--" he said. "I'm a gentleman--I don't kiss and
tell." Before he could say another word, a sly smile crossed his face. "But
I'll say this much about your cousin..." He leaned forwards towards me,
"Cynthia is *very* flexible."

"Josh!" my cousin shrieked as she punched him in the arm, while the four of
us were laughing so hard by now, I'm surprised I hadn't peed in my
pants. "I can't believe you!"

"It's part of the game, sweetie," Josh snickered as he looked around the
room, his eyes lighting up as they landed on Justin. Cringing to himself,
the blonde lead singer hid his head in his arms, waiting for Josh's
question. "Okay, Curly," Josh began. "I gotta know something. The one night
when we were in Houston, you disappeared between songs and when you came
back, I asked you where you had been. You refused to answer me...where did
you go?"

"What?" Justin asked innocently and I could tell by the nervous look in his
blue eyes that he was lying through his teeth. "I don't know what you're
talking about Jayce..." Sliding his eyes to his boyfriend, Harris refused
to meet his gaze, opting to stare at the bottles lined up in front of his
instead.

"Oh yes you do, Josh said knowingly. "You came back from one of the
dressing rooms--me and the rest of the guys never thought you were gonna
make it back on time....your shirt was hanging out of your pants...where
did you go?"

"I plead the fifth," Justin said indigently as he reached for a bottle of
whisky. "I'll have a drink instead." Uncapping the bottle, Justin poured
himself a shot of the brown liquid and downed it fast as
lightening. "There!" he announced, sticking out his tongue. "I did it. So
there."

"Must be one hell of a secret," Josh chuckled, as he poured himself a glass
of whisky as well. "Okay, Just--now it's your turn."

We continued the game, sometimes copping out at the naughtier questions
that were asked (Lance refused to answer whether he liked getting or
receiving, Josh refused to answer whether or not he's ever `disappointed'
Cynthia in bed) or brazenly answering the easier ones (Cynthia had once
spent a weekend in Cincinnati when she was 16 without her parents ever
knowing, I admitted that I had stolen a CD once from a record store--only
to send the retailer the money back anonymously because I couldn't handle
the guilt) and so on.

By the time all of the good questions were exhausted, all six of us were
completely shit-faced drunk, sometimes drinking for no reason at all. I
could barely sit up straight and as I kept sneaking secretive looks at my
boyfriend, I noticed that he wasn't in any better shape than I was. His
face was splotchy, his hair was messed up even more than usual, and he kept
mumbling nonsense under his breath.

But the far worst of everyone was my very own cousin--surprise
surprise. Standing up, she walked over to Harris and threw herself in his
lap.

"Why do you have to be gay?" she bemoaned as she stretched her arms around
his neck, tangling her fingers in his curly hair. Looking around at us, a
scowl crossed her pretty, drunken face. "Look at you guys--four of the best
looking guys I've ever seen and you like boys!" she spat out, looking like
she wanted to kill all of us.

"Cynthia," I broke her wailing, wanting her to shut her big trap, as my
head was pounding like a kettle drum. "Shut up already. Just shut up."

"No!" she exclaimed, lifting herself from Harris's lap. "I won't...in
fact..." In one spirited leap, Cynthia jumped up onto the coffee table,
knocking some of the now-empty bottles to the floor. They landed on the
carpet with light thuds, as Cynthia looked down at us.

"Cynth..." Josh called up to her. "Get down from there and back here." He
motioned to his arms and gave her a sad lipped pout. "I miss you."

"Oh Joshy," she cooed drunkenly. "You're so sweet." She looked back at us,
her violet gaze full of love--or confusion. One of the two. "Isn't he
sweet? I think he's so sweet..." And with that, Cynthia suddenly pulled her
top off, revealing her lacy bra underneath. It didn't leave much to the
imagination. I slapped a hand to my forehead, suddenly remembering my
cousin's wonderful habit of stripping whenever she got *really* drunk.

"Come on!" she exclaimed, looking at Lance. "You mean to tell me that you
don't like these?" She pointed at her chest, which if she asked any other
guy in world, they would have given her a *very* enthusiastic yes. Instead,
my very intoxicated boyfriend, just let out a very uneven giggle.

"Oh Cynth--you don't do a *thing* for me," Lance laughed, before falling
flat on his back, still giggling to himself. "Ask Harris or Justin--but
don't ask....Ste-vie," he mimicked before sitting himself back up and
gazing at me with *that* look in his eyes. In a matter of seconds, I went
from depressed and drunk to happy and drunk. And it was all because of
*that* look. It was the look that said, `Stephen I want to go home now--and
jump into bed with you.' We locked eyes for a couple of seconds, while
Cynthia continued to demand an answer from Justin and Harris about her
breasts, before falling off the table.

"Oh my God!" I heard Josh exclaim, as the three of them rushed over to my
drunken cousin. "Cynthia? You okay?"

I heard her mumble, "I'm fine....but Justin...Harris...you never answered
me..." Still staring at Lance, he nodded his head in the direction of where
the staircase was, his eyebrows lifting into a mischievous
expression. Returning his look, I slowly got to my feet and checked to see
if the other people in the room were even paying attention to us. They
weren't. With secretive grins creeping across both of our faces, I raced
out of the room with Lance following close behind me. Running into the
hallway, Lance and I managed to stumble up the staircase, nearly falling
down from the amount of alcohol in our bloodstreams.

When Lance and I had made it to the second floor, we stopped in an attempt
to catch our breath. I began to steady myself, by holding onto a wall, only
to pulled into Lance's arms.

"Missed talking to you," he mumbled as he placed a sloppy kiss on my
lips. "I really did--Stephen, why are you mad at me?" His mesmerizing pale
eyes stared at me, slowly filling with tears. That's one thing I hate about
drinking--sometimes when you're really drunk, your emotions get all screwy
and mixed up. And it was happening to Lance and I, because before I knew
it, tears were streaming down my face as well.

"Lance," I whispered, as some of the wetness streaming down my face,
dripped onto his shirt. "I was only trying to protect you...I didn't want
anyone seeing us together in the restaurant--I was only trying to protect
you from the press...I mean, if they were around--" My wasted ramblings
were cut off as Lance pressed his lips against mine once more.

"Oh cram it, Stephen," Lance slurred against my mouth. "Just shut up, kiss
me and let's go see the bedroom." We kissed again and again, each kiss
growing more and more erotic as our tongues entwined together, all the
while my head began to spin and my pulse began to gallop like wild horses.

"Stephen," Lance murmured, pulling away from me. "You wanna hear something
funny?" The tears that had been running past his cheeks, stopped and as I
looked at him, I noticed that Lance was biting his lip in a vain attempt to
not laugh.

"What?" I asked, as my hands ran up his the back of his shirt. "What what?
Tell me."

"When I came upstairs before," Lance began, the laughter now escaping his
lips. "You know what I saw?" Not waiting for me to answer him, Lance forged
ahead. "Justin. And he was naked, holding a whip."

It took all of my composure (and let me tell you, there's not much when
you're drunk) not to laugh right in Lance's face. "What? A whip? Lance,
you're so drunk..."

"No!" Lance exclaimed, shaking his head so hard, I'm surprised that his
eyeballs didn't fall out of their sockets. "Justin was naked--and I saw
something that I didn't want to see...and he was holding onto a whip."
Nearly falling backwards, Lance steadied himself on my shoulders, pulling
my body closer to his. "And he was so embarrassed...the poor boy. He nearly
jumped me when I came upstairs--I think he thought I was Harris."

"So that's why you looked so uncomfortable when you came downstairs," I
remembered as I gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. "Poor baby--your
virgin eyes seeing something they shouldn't have."

Lance snorted and began tugging on my hands. "Virgin eyes...ha ha, very
funny Stephen." He kept pulling me down the hallway, urging me to follow
him as he stepped backwards, all the while keeping those incredible,
slightly bloodshot eyes focused on mine.

Finally he stopped outside of a room and swung me around so that my back
was pressed up against the wall. Lance gave me a shy smile and then moved
in for another kiss, pressing his groin against my thigh.

"Someone wants something, don't they?" I teased him, as his kisses worked
their way down my neck.

"Yup," Lance answered thickly. "How'd you guess?" And with that, Lance
pulled me into the room, and kicked the door shut behind him.

"Where are we?" I asked Lance as I looked around me. The room we were in
was gorgeous. Spacious with thick, plush ivory carpeting under my feet. The
walls were lined with unlit candles and thick, intertwining ivy plants.

"I think this is their bedroom," Lance whispered as he threw me down on the
bed. Climbing on top of me, I noticed that we were bouncing around
comfortably.  It felt like we were on the ocean. "Hey!" he exclaimed
happily, as he patted the mattress around me. "They have a waterbed!"

"Cool," I agreed before reaching up and pulling Lance's face closer to
mine. I needed to kiss him. I needed to feel his lips against mine, wanting
the same thing I did. Lying there, Lance and I kissed for a few more
minutes before I felt his fingertips brush against the hem of my shirt.

"Kinda fun doing it in someone else's house, ain't it?" Lance asked, as he
tugged my shirt off my body. "At least I think it is." And then, Lance
rolled off of me, my shirt in his hands.

"Where are you going?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. I watched
Lance pad across the room, slowly removing his shoes and his pants, letting
them drop onto the carpet.

"The closet," Lance said matter-of-factly, looking over his shoulder at
me. Giving me a wink, Lance walked to the closet and opened it up. "I wanna
find that whip Justin had."

"Very kinky," I remarked as I laid on the bed, enjoying the up and down
feeling from being on a waterbed for the first time in my life. "Did you
find it?"

"Stephen?" Lance said, his voice filled with amazement and awe. "Come
here--now." Sitting up, I did my best to roll off the water filled
contraption. It took me a little longer than normal, since I was bouncing
around on that stupid bed, but I finally made it onto my feet and stumbled
over to the closet.

"What?" I asked, a little cranky that Lance had called me off the
bed. "What--" My words came to a halt as Lance pointed in front of him,
where a box filled with...um, a variety of naughty items were
sitting. There were things in there I wouldn't have a clue what to do
with...but obviously Justin and Harris liked them. A lot.

"Well," Lance said, amused by his findings. "Looks like the boys downstairs
like it a little rough." Bending over, I gingerly poked through the
box. The aforementioned whip was sitting on the top of the items, but as I
dug deeper, my fingers brushed against something cool.

"Lord," I laughed as I pulled a pair of leopard print, fur-lined handcuffs
out of the box. "These are just..." I trailed off as I struggled to find
the right word. Looking up at Lance, I noticed a funny look on his face as
I swung the cuffs back and forth in front of his face, as though I was a
hypnotist.

"What?" Lance asked a little defensively, watching the swinging restraints
like they were from another planet. "You think their sick or something?"

"I never said that," I said, as I ran my finger unconsciously around the
soft fur. "I never said anything about them."

"Well, okay," Lance murmured, taking the cuffs from me. "These are kinda
interesting. I never knew Justin had such a wild streak in him." I watched
my boyfriend examining the handcuffs with perverse interest and then it
dawned on me.

"Lance," I said slowly as I took the handcuffs back from him. "You don't
want to..." I waited for some kind of response, but all I got in return was
an ominous silence.

"No!" He finally exclaimed like he had been shot. "I mean, yes..I mean..."
Eyes softening as he met my mine, I could practically read his mind. His
gaze traveled downwards as I unsnapped one of the cuffs, the clicking of
the metal sounding rather seductive in the quiet of the room.  I heard
Lance's breath quicken as I grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the closet,
shutting the door behind me.

The closet was practically empty, save for the box of `fun' things and one
or two coats. I reached up, feeling for the light's pull chain and clicked
it on. Lance and I were bathed in a soft, white light while I stared at
him, still playing around with the metal contraption in my hands. We
remained speechless, while Lance's eyes were glued to the the handcuffs,
still staring at them, lust growing in his eyes as the seconds ticked by.

"Do you trust me?" I asked him softly, leaning over to place a kiss on his
cheek. I saw a lump form in Lance's throat as his head slowly nodded up and
down, his eyes still intently focused on the item in my hands.

"Of course," he whispered, his voice echoing off the bare walls. "I don't
think there's anyone else in this world that I trust more." Punctuating his
words with a smile, Lance extended his wrist out to me and I grabbed for
it, snapping one of the cuffs around it. Pulling that arm up in the air, as
well as the other one, I snapped the other cuff around it. The handcuffs
were looped over the bar that one would have hung an article of clothing
on. I took in the sight of Lance with his arms restrained and away from his
body for a couple of seconds, and I think I finally learned the meaning of
`breathless'. I could barely take in a gasp of air as I stood in place,
watching Lance tug helplessly on the handcuffs. For the briefest of
seconds, I saw a frenzied look pass over his face, before a smile settled
on his lips.

"I'm all yours Stephen," Lance remarked quietly, as I stepped closer to
him. Placing my mouth over his, I gently parted his lips with my tongue and
wrapped my arms around his torso. I moved my hands to his shoulders and ran
them down the front of his shirt. Overcome by the amount of lust flaring up
inside of my body, I ripped it open and pulled it off his body. Buttons
flew in various directions, hitting the walls around us and, removing my
mouth from his, a laugh escaped from my own.

"Sorry," I apologized meekly, embarrassed at how out-of-control I had just
become. "I just ruined one of your shirts."

"Oh well," Lance sighed, moving his face to mine once more. "I don't care
about some shirt. I need you, Stephen." And with that, we kissed again. I
began to hurriedly unbuckle my belt, kicking off my shoes and undid my
pants, stepping out of them once they hit the floor.

My breathing grew heavy as I reached up to trace a slow path over Lance's
face. Tracing over his eyebrows, moving down his nose, over the outline of
his lips...my touch was light and gentle, causing Lance's body to shiver
slightly in the dim light. My fingertips started in on his chest...down his
neck, circling around each of his nipples as I watched them form into
tight, hard buds, receptive from my touch.

"Oh my God," Lance whispered, his breathing now raspy with satisfaction. I
trailed away from his nipples and moved, began to move down his stomach,
briefly resting my finger in his navel before trailing my fingers to his
sides. And that's when I began to tickle him.

"Stephen!! " Lance gasped, his once breathless voice now filled with
laughter. He began to squirm uncontrollably underneath my touch. "Oh my
Lord..stop it... please..." Helpless due to his binded wrists, his face
twisted up into an expression of immense agony, as he tried his best not to
laugh. And yet, my fingers continued to mercilessly move over his sides,
delighted that I had found one of his weaknesses.

"Oooh, is my baby ticklish?" I squealed, as Lance twisted his body one way,
and then another in a pursuit to stop me. It didn't work at all. "Tickle,
tickle, tickle!!"

"Stephen," Lance cried out, twisting his arms as he tried to kick me
away. "I swear to God-- I'm--going--to kill you." He managed to gasp out in
between laughs as tears began to stream down his face. "This isn't
funny...keep doing this and you're not getting any tonight, mister."
Watching the tears of pain flow down his face was not what I wanted, so I
slowed down my touches until he stopped laughing.

"Sounds serious," I quipped as my hands left his sides for good. With that,
I fell to my knees and looked up at him. I gently ran my hands up his body
and then brought them down, until they rested on the waistband of Lance's
boxers. Placing my face close to his groin, I could feel an unbridled heat
emanating from that area, watching as the fabric began to lift into an
aroused tent. I needed Lance. I needed to feel him. And slowly I began to
tug the boxers off his hips, a little at a time, placing tiny kisses on his
pale, exposed flesh before finally yanking the flimsy material down to his
ankles.

Slightly opened mouthed by how excited my boyfriend was, I looked up at
Lance, only to find him smiling down at me, his eyes alert and interested
to what I was about to do next. With a grin, I began to nuzzle my lips
against the smooth flesh of his thighs, before finding a way to slowly wrap
them around the tip of his swelling member, before pulling away.

"Lance," I murmured thickly as I looked back up at him, desire clearly
etched in my eyes. "You're beautiful, you know that?" My eyelids were heavy
with the effects of the alcohol as I slid my hands back up his
sides. "Absolutely beautiful to me..." And with those words, I began to run
the tip of my tongue along the underside of his penis, licking it as though
it were a lollipop. My hands ran back up the length of his torso so that I
could slide my fingers over his nipples once more. Lance let out a groan of
pleasure as my mouth engulfed the hotness of him over and over, until he
was shaking from all of the tension building up inside of him. Unable to
use his hands, Lance began to uncontrollably thrust his hips towards my
face.

"Stephen," Lance moaned out loud, his hips now bucking wildly from what my
mouth was doing to him. "I want to touch you...you don't know how much I
need to..." Ignoring his pleas, I continued to work my mouth up and down
his hardness, dropping my hands back down to his hips and cupping his ass
in my hands. Running my tongue over the swollen, leaking head, I felt my
body begin to quiver as the taste of him filled my throat. I could feel his
body tense, working itself to the edge, but I knew I had to refuse him the
right to come. I wanted to prolong his pleasure as long as I could and I
did that by slowly removing my mouth from Lance.

"Stephen," Lance gasped, as I rose from the floor and to his lips. "You're
evil...you're so evil to me." A small smile creeped across his face,
despite the agony that I had left him in. "I didn't say I didn't like it
though."

"I know," I breathed, as I brushed my lips across his face, fluttering my
eyelashes against his soft skin. "Are you okay? You're not in pain or
anything are you?"

"No!" Lance exclaimed quickly, tipping his head back as I placed a couple
of kisses at the hollow of his throat. "Stephen...I love you. And this is
absolutely incredible. I almost wish it would never end."

"I know," I sighed as I placed a couple of kisses along his chest. I moved
away from my boyfriend as the box filled with naughty items caught my
attention. Heading back, I began to rummage through it, while Lance
continued to moan in frustration. Leaving him on the brink of ecstasy
hadn't been nice of me, but I realized that Lance and I were playing some
sort of game, where I held all the power. And part of the fun was watching
him squirm under my control.

I continued to sift through the items, shaking my head at some of the
things that Harris and Justin were into.  I never would have guessed this
aspect about them, I thought as my eyes latched onto a certain item. My
heart raced at the thought of using it on my boyfriend and before I could
deliberate any longer, I pulled it from the box and stepped in back of
Lance.

"Stephen?" Lance asked, his voice spotted with anxiety at my
disappearance. "Where did you go?"

"I'm right here, Lance," I whispered while running the item slowly down the
middle of his back. He shivered as the cool wood slid against his body,
causing his back to arch in response. "I wouldn't leave you...and tell me,
how would I have gotten out of here if I didn't open up the door?" Enjoying
Lance's response, I felt my own aching member twitch in my boxer shorts, as
reminder to how much I desired him. Forcing my own needs out of my mind, I
diverted my attention back to the man in front of me.

"I don't know," Lance sighed pleasurably as I leaned over and placed a
tender kiss between his shoulder blades, before sucking on the soft
flesh. I left a small red mark there, before leaving another one, only
inches away. "I'm not thinking right...whatever you're doing to me right
now...you're driving me insane, Stephen..."

"I know," I said with a little laugh that resounded throughout the enclosed
space. I trailed my lips lower down his warm skin, until I reached the
small of his back. Pulling away from Lance's body, I found my eyes fixated
on my boyfriend's sensitive skin and I'm not sure if it was because I was
drunk or if I was so intoxicated with love for Lance. At that particular
moment in my life, I was boggled by the overwhelming amount of passion that
was coursing through me. And it was all for the person in front of me. For
a brief moment, I wondered why those feelings of love made a person want
another person physically, to hold them, touch them...it was strange why
the mind worked in such mysterious ways.

I looked back down at the paddle in my hands and slowly ran its edge up
Lance's back once more, causing him to shiver in the growing heat of the
closet. He trusted me so much...and suddenly, like a mechanism that had
just kicked in, the romantic lyrics to some song I had heard ages ago, came
tumbling from my lips, spilling into the air encircling us.

"You gave me all your love in one day..." I moved the paddle down once
more, gently running it over his behind, my eyes mesmerized by the sight of
Lance in front of me, naked and handcuffed. It was as though I had stepped
into someone else's fantasy, never expecting that Lance and I would ever be
engaged in this sort of thing. "You gave it all and almost faded away..."
Stretching myself upwards, I brought the paddle around to the front of
Lance's body and began to run it over his chest. Bits and pieces of the
song were fading in and out of my memory. Why was I singing this? Was this
the work of my subconscious once more, trying to tell Lance how much he
meant to me at that exact moment? Or was I using the song as a soothing
device to calm Lance down, so he knew that I loved him? I wasn't sure, and
yet the lyrics to the song kept leaving my throat as I whispered them into
his ear.

"So if you should feel a bit out of place...This vision not unlike a
shooting star..." My wobbly sounding voice continued to sing. I ran the
smooth, thin wood past his neck and back down over his chest again. "So I
offer you a place to rest...And forget yourself...In my arms tonight ..."

I saw Lance look downwards, his eyes widening as they recognized the object
in my hand. He twisted his neck backwards to look at me and for a moment, I
froze. I knew I had freaked him out by showing him the paddle. He didn't
want this--handcuffs had been one thing, but *this*? This was another.

To my surprise, the look in Lance's eyes wasn't one of fear. Instead, I
felt his hips thrusting backwards, hitting the front of my body. A look of
wanting was swimming around in those green eyes of his as he batted his
eyelashes seductively at me. Wordlessly, Lance gave a single nod of his
head, encouraging me to go on with what I was about to do. My hand shook
and a seed of nervousness began to sprout deep in the pit of my stomach. I
had to do it to him. I moved the paddle back to his ass and with a quick
flick of my wrist, I hit the wood against his soft flesh.

He flinched slightly and a small groan of pleasure left his slightly parted
lips. "Stephen..." Lance moaned into the air. I felt a sheer layer of sweat
forming between our bodies as my hand held onto his shoulder, while I
struck him once more with the paddle. I made sure I did it hard enough for
him to feel the pressure, but not hard enough for tears to come to his
eyes. I bordered on the thin line between pleasure and pain, hoping that he
would never forget the experience that we were going through. I spanked him
two more times before dropping the object back to the ground. Hitting the
floor underneath us with a clatter, I moved my body closer to Lance,
skimming his backside with my own pulsing erection. Doing that to Lance had
turned me on more than ever...I felt incredible...

"You okay?" I whispered in Lance's ear, gently biting on the earlobe before
nuzzling the tip of my crooked nose in his hair. Inhaling the spicy scent
of his shampoo, I felt myself become even more needy than ever. Lance let
out another moan before answering me.

"Fine," Lance choked out and I realized that there were, in fact, tears
running down his cheeks, down his neck and onto his chest. My worst
nightmare come true. I had hurt him.

"Oh my God, I hurt you," I sucked in my breath, worry filling my entire
body at that moment. "Lance, why didn't--"

"No, Stephen," Lance began to sob, trying to move his body against mine,
needing the friction that would allow him release. He continued to tug
helplessly at the handcuffs that were keeping him from touching me. "I want
you now...I wish I could touch you, hold you...but I can't. I need you,
Stephen...you're driving me insane...*please*, I need you inside of me," he
added urgently, sounding as though he was about to crack at any second.

It was with those words that I gave in to what Lance needed. I quickly
pulled off my boxer shorts and pressed myself against Lance's backside. A
gasp of relief left his lips, as my hands fell down to Lance's ass, gently
running my hands over the soft, slightly reddened flesh, before parting his
cheeks. I took a deep breath as my hips involuntarily moved forward,
slipping me inside of my boyfriend. The heat from the spanking I had just
given him, radiated like the sun onto my body. He let out an almost
animalistic groan of satisfaction, craning his neck back so that his lips
could meet mine. Resting my hands on his hips, I began to work
myself...pulling completely out before slamming back in. I don't know what
came over me just then, except that I wanted to give Lance an experience he
would never forget. In any other light, I would have never went for what
Lance and I were doing. I had always assumed that anything outside of pure
romanticism was wrong...but this was different. I loved Lance and what I
had just done seemed perfect....right...a matter of trust between two
people. And I suddenly knew that Lance and I were meant to be together. As
they say, it was written in the stars for us to have met, because there was
no way I could even imagine my life without Lance, nor could I have
imagined doing this with anyone else.

I continued to move in and out of my boyfriend, letting one of my hands
drift to the front of his body, where I wrapped my fingers around Lance's
pulsating erection. I ran my fingertips over the head, which was dripping
precum like a leaky faucet. Taking some of the sticky liquid, I began to
run my hand down the length of it, stroking him in time with my thrusts.

"Oh Stephen..." Lance moaned, dropping his head back onto my shoulder. "Oh
God..." I watched his face contort into a mask of rapture as my hand moved
faster and faster. Placing a kiss on his cheek, I bit my lip to control the
pressure building inside of me. I couldn't take it anymore. The feelings
spiraling throughout me were too intense to take anymore, and moving my
lips to Lance's ear, I whispered, "Sweetie...I'm gonna come..." The words
barely left my mouth before they came true, my body spasming as I held onto
Lance for dear life. My knees weakened and my throat went dry as Lance
managed to extract everything from my body. Moments later, Lance let out a
strangled cry as his body tensed in my arms and he finally came. Closing
his eyes, I noticed that his breath was leaving his mouth in uncontrolled
pants, while he attempted to regain his lost composure.

"That was...just...I can't explain...Lord..." Lance trailed off
incoherently as he turned his head backwards to kiss me again. "I love you,
Stephen...I really do..."

"I know..." I said softly as I wrapped my arms around him, the sweat on our
bodies beginning to cool us off. I felt that familiar satiated feeling come
over my body as I sank into a state of post-orgasmic bliss. The feeling of
Lance's body next to mine was indescribable. Soft and
wonderful...perfect. We stayed that way for a few minutes before Lance
finally broke the heavy quiet between us.

"Stephen?" Lance whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I hate to ruin a
perfect moment, but could you find the keys to these things?" He tugged
once more at the silver handcuffs. "My arms are killing me from being up
like this for so long." I let out a gentle laugh and nodded, kissing his
neck once more.

"No problem," I said as my arms left Lance's body. I turned back to the
cardboard box and rummaged through it. Panic began to fill my body. I
emptied out the contents and sifted through the odd contraptions and toys
that had been in there. Oh no...this wasn't happening to us--was it?

"Lance?" I called out, trying to hide the alarm in my voice. "Uh, sweetie?"

"What?" he asked, automatically picking up on my fear. "What's wrong
Stephen?"

"I can't find the keys." The words hit the air like a lead balloon. For a
moment neither of said anything, not wanting to believe that this was
actually happening. It couldn't be. We had just had a perfect time
together...

"What?" Lance asked, sounding like he wanted to die right there on the
spot. "You're kidding me, right? Stephen? I know you are?" I frantically
checked the box once more, throwing all of the objects back into it,
praying that I would see some sort of shiny key that would free Lance from
the restraints. But my attempts were to no avail. Nothing. No key, no way
of getting his wrists free from those things...

"Lance, I can't find it," I announced with worry as I walked back in front
of him. A look of trepidation crossed his face as the realization of what
was happening hit him at full force.

"You mean...I'm going to have to stay here? Or you'll have to get Harris
and tell him?" A deep blush creeped up his neck and across his
face. "Stephen, no--you have to find a way to get me out of these things
without anyone finding out!"

"Well, I'm not a locksmith!" I exclaimed angrily, reaching up and examining
the lock to the handcuffs. "I have no idea how to open these things
up...Lance, I'm gonna have to get Harris. Maybe he has a key for them."

"Stephen, no!" Lance howled once more, stamping his feet against the
floor. We were sobering up fast now, the realization of being humiliated in
front of everyone now coming true. "Don't you have a bobby pin or
something?"

"Where am I gonna get a bobby pin from?"  I asked crossly, imagining the
field day that Cynthia would have with this one. "It's not like I need them
for my hair or anything."

"Well, look," Lance rolled his eyes, trying to calm down a little bit. "I'm
sure that there's some way to get out of these things--" Our conversation
was cut short when the closet door suddenly swung open and Lance and I were
exposed to the bright harsh bedroom light. I began to blink as my hands
instinctively covered up my personal area. This was getting to be a normal
thing for me to do, I thought wryly thinking back to Diane a couple of
nights before. Standing there, looking at us with a mixture of amusement
and horror were Justin and Harris, their hands intertwined, already in a
state of undress themselves.

"Stephen? Lance?" Harris cried out, his voice coming out in a strangled
gasp as he folded his arms across his bare chest. "*What* are you doing?"

"Why do we always have to be humiliated like this?" Lance muttered under
his breath as he turned his face away from the prying eyes of his bandmate
and his boyfriend. I felt terrible for him-- he was the one who was naked,
dangling from a pair of unlockable handcuffs, not me. Looking back at
Harris and Justin, a flash of anger swept through my body.

"Do you mind?" I hollered as I slammed the closet door shut so that Lance
and I were alone once more. Quickly, I dressed myself and then pulled
Lance's boxer shorts back over his hips before opening up the closet door
once more, finding Harris and Justin sitting next to each other on the
waterbed.

"Look, guys--you wouldn't happen to have a key for the handcuffs, would
you?" I asked them. They looked at each other with what, at first, looked
like concerned expressions, but in reality, they were just trying not to
laugh.

"The fur lined ones?" Harris asked, placing a hand over his
mouth. "Stephen...we lost the key to those. That's why they were in the
bottom of the box." His face twisted into a scowl then, as another thought
dawned on him. "And by the way--What the hell are you two doing up here?"
Rising from his place on the bed, Harris strode towards me and meeting me
so closely, our noses were practically touching.  The scent of vodka on his
breath nearly knocked me over as he began to scream at me. "I can't believe
you two--you just sneak up here and...and..." Harris sputtered
uncontrollably, shouting, while a look of anger filled his bloodshot aqua
eyes. "And go through our personal stuff...who the hell do you think you
are?"

"Harris, I'm sorry," I apologized, backing away from him. He was really
mad. And I wondered if it was from us finding the whips and paddles and
whatnot, or if it was because we decided to have sex in their closet?  Or
if it was because we obviously ruined a moment for them? "So is Lance," I
continued, changing the subject. "But tell me--how do you get those
handcuffs to unlock?"

Harris crossed his arms over his chest again, looking a little pissy as he
did this. "Look, Stephen--the only way Justy got the cuffs to unlock was
with a safety pin, okay? And I don't think we have one around here."
Watching us argue from the bed, Justin wordlessly got up and left the
room. Moments later, he returned triumphantly, a safety pin in his hand.

"Cynthia had this in her purse..." Justin explained as he opened it up,
exposing the sharp, pointed end to us. "She was trying to pierce her ear a
little while ago, before Josh took it away from her." He paused briefly,
pursing his lips in thought, before adding, "And then she passed out
cold. Josh did too. They're both downstairs right now, pretty much out of
it."

"Nice," I remarked, thankful that my cousin wasn't around to see us. I took
the safety pin from Justin and gave the younger man a grateful look.
Walking back into the closet, where my boyfriend was still hanging from the
bar, I gave him a hopeful smile as I flashed the safety pin at him. He
tried to smile at me, but the sad expression on his face, nearly broke my
heart. Moving closer to him, I scrutinized the one of the locks on the
handcuffs and began to jiggle the safety pin around in it. A few seconds
later, I heard a click and one of Lance's hands were free.

"Ohhhh," he sighed happily, bringing his arms down. He shook his painfully
cramped limbs out, before I worked on freeing his other wrist from the
silver restraints. Harris watched us for a few seconds, before giving Lance
and I an evil look. He then stomped out of the room, leaving Justin
behind. The curly-haired blonde's face was a bright, embarrassed red as he
walked over to Lance and I, where we were examining his wrists. He seemed
alright. More embarrassed than in pain.

"Look...Lance...don't tell the other guys about what you found in there,
okay?" Justin asked softly, trying to avoid his friend's surprised
gaze. "I'd uh...rather not want that getting out about us...." Justin
cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable knowing that Lance and I had
found out about their little fetishes.

"I know," Lance said seriously, as he gave Justin an understanding
smile. "Don't worry about it, Just--as long as you don't tell a soul about
Stephen and I, okay?"

"Okay," Justin said as brightly as he could, before slinking out of the
room. Lance and I looked at each other, grateful looks in both of our eyes
at how the situation wound up working out. With that knowledge under our
belts and locked safely inside our mind, Lance and I then found the
remainder of our clothes and slipped them on. I clipped the safety pin on
the bottom of my shirt and with one last look at the room that we had just
shared one of our most intimate encounters in, Lance and I walked out of
there, ready to head home.




Lance and I drove home in complete silence, mainly because Lance needed to
concentrate on his driving so that we wouldn't crash. He was still a little
drunk, as was I and I think this was the first time my boyfriend had driven
the speed limit, I noted with a smile. Before I knew it, the two of us were
sitting in the driveway of his house, attempting to get out of his 4-runner
without falling flat on our faces. The effects of the alcohol were hitting
me once more. Funny though, when Lance and I were intimate, I had felt
completely sober and I could remember every touch, every kiss, every
feeling that had coursed through my veins.

Silently, Lance and I entered his house and trudged up the staircase. While
Lance walked to his bedroom, I went to the bathroom, did my business and
stared into the mirror for a few seconds. I looked terrible, I thought to
myself. My eyes were hazy, my hair looked disheveled and my skin was pasty
and sickly looking. Not very attractive, I thought with a laugh as I washed
my hands and rinsed off my face. Opening the door up, I padded out into the
hallway and walked into Lance's room, where I found my boyfriend stripping
out of his clothes. His gorgeous body was on full display as he tossed his
clothes off to the side, and noticing that I had just entered the room,
Lance walked over to me and threw his arms around my neck.

"Hey handsome," Lance giggled, still drunk from that evening's game. "Ready
for beddy-bye?"

"Yup," I said as I took off my shirt and slacks. "Ready to hop into bed."
And with that, I dove onto the mattress, only to slide right off thanks to
the satin sheets that covered it. Staring at the ceiling, my head felt like
it was about to fall off, as my mind came to the realization that I had
just slid off of Lance's bed.

Peering over the side of it, Lance's eyes examined me as I lay on the
floor. "You okay?" he asked with worry. Nodding, I pulled myself off the
bed, holding onto Lance's hand for support.

"I'm fine--gotta be careful with those shiny sheets of yours," I laughed as
I climbed next to him. Pulling me into his arms, I rested my head on
Lance's chest, content to just lie there and listen to his heartbeat and
the feeling of his chest rising and falling. His fingers stroked my back
for a couple of seconds before Lance looked down at me, affection
unmistakably present in those beautiful eyes of his.

"Stephen..." Lance trailed off, looking a little overwhelmed by the events
of the night that had passed us. He finally regained the power of speech,
and a smile crossed his lips. "I love you."

I allowed the words to hang between us, to let the linger in the night air
before answering him. "I love you too, Lance..." I looked up at him and
smiled. "And I'm sorry for pulling away from you at the restaurant."

Waving his hand, Lance just made a face at me. "Oh Stephen," he sighed. "I
completely forgot about that..." He placed another kiss on my forehead and
rested his head against the pillows. Rolling my body completely on top of
his, I laid there, resting my weight on him, as I stared deep into his
eyes. I examined every inch of his face, before kissing him once more,
causing the corners of Lance's mouth to turn up.

Before I knew it, Lance had somehow flipped me over onto my back. He
completely took me by surprise, and I stared up at him, wondering why he
had just done that to me. I got my answer soon enough...

"Stephen," Lance began slowly, as he reached underneath the pillow that my
head was propped on. "Do you trust *me*?" And with those words, Lance
pulled out the same pair of trouble-making handcuffs we had used that night
and dangled them in front of my eyes, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he
did so.

Any thoughts that had been present in my head, flew out as fast as they had
entered while Lance continued to hold those glistening restraints in front
of my eyes, waiting for my answer. I didn't have to think twice really...

"Of course I do," I answered truthfully, as Lance wrapped his fingers
around one of my wrists and pulled it over my head. Another smile lit up
his face as he straddled my waist. I lifted my other arm up, making the job
of cuffing me a little easier for him. Leaning back down to kiss me, Lance
studied my face once more time, before parting.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Lance asked calmly, despite the excitement
in his eyes, as he ran both of his hands down my chest. I shivered under
his touch as Lance spoke one last coherent sentence for the final time that
evening. "Let's get started..."




Morning. Headache. Hangover. Lance next to me, our legs
intertwined. Sunlight beating down on us. My bare skin exposed to the cool
morning air. I felt sick, nauseous and ready to puke. But I
didn't. Instead, as I opened up my eyes, I turned my head slightly to the
right, first seeing the pair of handcuffs sitting on the nightstand, then
the digital clock, whose glowing red numbers read 9:35 a.m.

I closed my eyes once more, wanting to fall back into the depths of a
peaceful sleep when the phone rang. The loud harsh ringing shook me out of
my self-induced slumber, and my eyelids flew open. Lance stirred next to
me, opening his eyes and glared at the phone on his nightstand.

"Fuck you," he spat out, as though that would stop the ringing. It
didn't. Instead, the phone kept ringing and ringing, waiting to be
answered. Rolling his body away from mine, Lance picked up the cordless
phone off its base, hit a button and placed it next to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked groggily. "Who is this??? Oh...Uncle Jeff...hi...." Lance
woke up a little more then, sitting straight up in bed and ran a hand
through his two-toned hair. "Yeah...you woke me up--that's okay..."
Listening for a few more seconds, Lance turned a surprised gaze to me.

"You wanna talk to Stephen?" he asked, now fully awake. "Alright...hold
on." Placing his hand over the mouthpiece, Lance handed the telephone to
me. "It's Uncle Jeff...and he wants to talk to you."

Dipping my eyebrows at him, I placed the phone next to my ear. "Hello?" I
croaked out, my throat sounding like I had a sore throat. "Jeff?"

"Yes, Stephen," he answered, his voice sounding a little stiff. He sounded
strange. Not at all like the friendly, compassionate person that I had met
back in Mississippi. And that scared me a little. I didn't want to hear
that. "Hi, how have you been?"

"I'm okay," I lied, thinking that saying, `No, I feel like I'm about to
die' wouldn't be very appropriate. "What's up?"

"Stephen...I know it's early in the morning, but I wanted to call you as
soon as I got to my office. I talked to Mr. Weinstein last night--the
lawyer that handled your mother's case."

Immediately, I felt a sense of dread fill my stomach. That was the last
thing I wanted to talk about now. Not after Lance and I had such a
passionate night together. Looking down at my wrists, I noticed the slight
redness around their circumference. But then, what I had I expected to talk
about when Jeff called? Sports? The weather? Of course the topic of the
conversation would be my mother's death.

"Yes," I said, pulling the satin sheet past my legs and over my waist. I
was a little cold, not sure if that feeling was from the Florida air or
from the phone call.

"Well, Stephen..I've looked over your mother's autopsy reports. When she
died, it turns out that her bloodstream was filled with all sorts of
drugs. The coroner has here that your mother could have possibly killed
herself as a reaction of all the different prescriptions in her body--she
may not have even known what she was doing at that particular moment. I
tried to get into contact with the doctor who wrote out these prescriptions
for her, Stephen but..." Jeff let out a forlorn sigh. "It turns out he's
currently the target of a huge malpractice suit right now, which doesn't
really surprise me at all."

I felt as though someone had slammed in my head with a sledgehammer. *She
may not have even known what she was doing?* What? Did that mean...no, it
couldn't have meant that... did it?

"Anyways, I talked to Mr.Weinstein and gave him this
information. Stephen...we reviewed your whole case. It looks as though when
your mother came in to change her will two days before her death, she was
*not* of sound mind...according to the autopsy report, the drugs in her
body had built up for about a week prior to her death." Jeff took a much
needed breath before continuing. I felt as though my chest was about to
cave in, and unconsciously, I reached out for Lance's hand, only to find
that he was reaching for me first. He must have noticed the shocked look on
my face, as he crawled over, sitting closely next to me. He wanted to be
there for me, I noted gratefully.

"Go on," I said slowly, waiting to hear Jeff's words.

"Stephen..." Jeff began. "We have to revert back to the old version of your
mother's will. The new will was rendered null and void....that means, if we
follow the old version, you get around one-third of your mother's
estate. Roughly..." I heard Jeff punching in numbers on a
calculator. "Three hundred thousand dollars--as well as possession of the
house."

"What?" I asked, my voice sounding as though I had died. "You're joking
right?"

"No, Stephen," Jeff said, slightly amused by my disbelief. "I'm not kidding
you. You're really entitled to it." I'm not sure how the conversation ended
after that, but all I know is that when I hung up the phone, I passed it
back to Lance and just sat there, unable to speak, unable to move.

"Stephen?" Lance asked tentatively, almost afraid to ask me a
question. "What happened? Is it about the will?"

"Yes," I finally answered him, not sure what to say. "Lance...my
mother. You know the medication she was on?" I turned to him, and saw the
look of understanding in his eyes.

"Yeah, I remember," he said evenly. "What about?"

"It turns out that when she drew up the new will, she wasn't of sound body
and mind...it was voided out and the lawyer had to go back to the old
will." I paused for a second, not meeting Lance's eyes. "I wind up getting
around three hundred thousand dollars."

My boyfriend's eyes grew wide. Wider than I had ever seen them before. "Oh
my God...Stephen...that means you get the money...do you get to keep your
house?" Not bothering to answer him, I just nodded my head silently,
causing Lance to whoop loudly.

"That's awesome! Stephen it's only fair..." Noticing my melancholy
expression, Lance peered at me closely. "What's wrong?" I stared at him for
a couple of seconds, not wanting to answer him. Because I knew that if I
spoke, I would cry. And that's exactly what I did.

Lance watched as the tears rolled out of my eyes, thinking that the wetness
falling fast and furious from my eyes were tears of happiness. They
weren't. It was a funny feeling--I had wanted this to happen with my
mother's will. I had wanted to find out that there was some sort of
loophole and there was. It seemed almost too easy...and yet, the words that
Jeff had spoken had disturbed me greatly. Maybe she had been so doped up on
her medication, she hadn't known that she slit her own wrists? Maybe it
hadn't been all my fault after all...there were so many questions that
would remain unanswered forever...

"Stephen?" Lance asked softly, noticing that there was no happiness on my
face. "Are you alright?" I shook my head, wiping the tears that fell from
my eyes. And suddenly the answer was so simple. I looked up at him, my
brown eyes meeting Lance's.

"Lance," I whispered. "I want my mother...I....I miss her so much..." And
then I finally broke down, crying madly, not able to hold back any
longer. I longed for something that I could never have again and maybe that
hurt even more than anything else I had ever felt in my life. The emptiness
that my mother's death left in me was overwhelming. I had tried to fill it
up with sex...Lance...and that hadn't worked. Brilliant plan, huh?

I felt Lance's arms wrap around me, pulling me in tightly as he just held
on to me for dear life and I could tell that he was unsure of what to do
for me. All he knew was that he wanted to hold me, comfort me and make me
feel better. That was his job. To be there for me.

"It's okay, Stephen," I heard him whisper as he placed a soft kiss on my
forehead. "It's gonna be okay....everything's gonna be alright..." As he
held onto me, rocking me gently in his arms, one question hung in my mind,
refusing to leave...

Was it really going to be alright? Was it?


So that's it. I got another Biology test coming up (I got a 76 on the last
one!!!! Woo-hoo! That's good for me...) so who knows when the next chapter
will be out. But it will be a good one...Wisconsin bound! Remember, I love
feedback....sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com

Love ya poodles (it's the Karen Walker in me coming out :) --Gabriella