It started off loudly, a battle to see who got the front seat. Chris put his foot down and played the age card, and when that didn’t work, pointed out his many faults, including his thumping leg which would probably jump for a good four hours of the car ride. In the end, that’s what got him shotgun. He didn’t gloat. At least, not beyond an hour, until Justin yelled at him.
Now, it was quiet. Chris shifted around in his seat to look into the back. JC was still awake, but Joey and Justin were out cold, both leaning into the centre. JC, who seemed swallowed up inside them, just smiled and waved a bit. He already had his headband on. They tried to get him to wear a normal hat but JC dismissed all attempts as boring.
Chris knew Lance had gotten lost but hadn’t told anybody. Lance was only driving because he’d lost at rock-paper-scissors. Plus, he knew how to drive a Yukon. Chris didn’t approve of sports utility vehicles. He was, at heart if not practice, an environmentalist, or so he claimed. Chris knew he was full of shit, but he really didn’t want to drive.
Lance drove like granny whenever he hit snow, hands at ten and two, eyes narrowed in search of deer or yetis, whichever came first. JC swore there were abominable snowmen in Wisconsin; somebody told him that at age seven and he’d never forgotten it. Chris didn’t have the heart to tell him that sometimes mean people lie to stupid little children to scare them.
And Lance didn’t like talking, which Chris thought was bullshit or, at least, physically impossible, but Joey and Justin were trained to fall asleep in moving vehicles and JC just chatted loudly inside his own head. With no one but Lance to talk to, then, Chris found himself forced into silence. Luckily, Chris had brought his Gameboy, so he played for a few hours with a flashlight held between his teeth. Lance hadn’t even wanted that. He was worried about glare interfering with his view of the road.
When that got boring, Chris put it away and watched Lance instead. His profile was nice, sharp and strong, though the under-the-chin scruff was kind of annoying. In all fairness, Chris felt Lance should shave it off since just three days ago, the four of them had plotted against Chris and snipped off his beard horns in his sleep. Chris also believed JC’s chin stripe needed to go.
But other than that, Lance was a fine specimen of a man. Chris himself was equally fine, he knew, or rather, didn’t know but liked to sometimes pretend. It was perfectly logical, then, that at Justin’s birthday party, Lance had, in his drunkenness, kissed Chris. With tongue. And a touching of the ass through leather pants.
They hadn’t mentioned it since, since they were both typical men, and Chris was, if only mildly, freaking out. There was no precedent for this at all. Lance hadn’t, as far as Chris knew, kissed any of the other guys, just Chris. Lance didn’t really hug anybody other than Joey, so a kiss was beyond odd. Chris couldn’t make heads or tails of it. And now, as if fate was laughing at them, Chris was expected to spend a week with Lance and act normally.
That, Chris decided, was not going to happen.
~~~
They finally pulled up to the chalet. It was a ritzy little place, with its own ski lifts and other fun wintery delights. The people here were so wealthy and prestigious that a dorky group of boyband members would most likely go unnoticed or, at least, unbothered.
Joey and Justin were both cranky when they first woke, always had been, so Lance sent them ahead with the luggage, and like good little zombies, they went without question. JC stretched his arms over his head and danced a little dance in place, grinning hugely to himself. Chris could swear he was prancing instead of walking. Chris shook his head. They couldn’t take JC anywhere, the big freak.
Chris invited himself to go inside to witness the sign-in. Lance swished as he walked. His overpriced down ski jacket made a racket with every movement. It was like it was announcing the presence of the great and powerful Lance Bass, who owned a Krispy Kreme franchise and could balance a spoon on his nose while speaking pig latin and was the only one who seemed to be able to get any sort of drug anonymously. Chris happened to know Lance was laden with pot at that very moment.
There were women all around him, and Chris silently thanked God. Women, gorgeous, young, nubile women who didn’t talk like Bass, didn’t act like Bass and certainly didn’t have any manly Bass genes. One of them, Chris wasn’t picky, was going to allow Chris to reaffirm his shaky heterosexuality and love of boobs.
There were complimentary books of matches, so Chris took a few. He saved them and kept them on top of his fridge for emergencies. So far, he’d managed to use about four a year, with a good two or three hundred left, scattered around like snow. JC collected Hard Rock menus; Chris collected matchbooks. In comparison to Freaky Chasez himself, Chris considered his little infatuation to be normal. At least they were free. JC was a fucking illegal klepto.
Lance was signing things, which was boring, so Chris wandered off to pick up some ladies, maybe two or three. He ran through his full arsenal of pickup lines in his head, even the really lame ones, and the one woman he tried, laughed at him. Chris didn’t pay any attention to her, though. They’d worked before; they’d work now.
“Chris!” Lance shouted in that rumbling deep bass voice of his, and Chris flocked to him like a dog would. It wasn’t just Lance who wielded this strange power over him. Most of the time, the guys were the only ones who could get Chris to do anything. They knew the super secret frequency of Chris’s ears or something.
Chris followed him out then hopped in the Yukon as Lance backed out and moved the car to the cabin, which Chris suspected wasn’t as rustic as it looked. JC was out in the snow, admiring a tree, and Chris shook his head. JC either couldn’t feel cold or didn’t care. He didn’t have mitts on.
“C, gloves,” Chris reminded him, and JC dug through his pockets until he found a pair and slid them on. Proudly, he showed them off, and Chris clapped politely. JC was pretty odd these days. Chris thought it maybe had something to do with the fact he never left his house.
Inside, Lance was talking to him again, but Chris wasn’t really listening. He just followed Lance down the right-side hall, which led to three bedrooms and a bathroom. Chris turned his head to look down the other hall, where most of the luggage was sitting. However, his big huge suitcase and Lance’s small bag were in this one.
Oh.
So that was fine. Chris could cope with Lance being a mere walk across the hall away, since Chris took the bigger room beside the bathroom, and Lance grabbed the nicer one with the walkout deck. It was just as well. Chris almost didn’t come when he found out the cabin was on the edge of a hill. His height phobia didn’t like that one bit.
Chris went into the room and collapsed on the big bed, which was covered in flannel and warm just to touch. In the distance, he heard Lance shouting at JC to come inside and get some sleep. Whatever JC said in response, Chris didn’t catch, but it made Lance laugh. It probably wasn’t very funny at all. Those two just amused each other with their oddity.
The only difference being, JC had never tried to kiss Chris, not once in all the years he’d known him. That, Chris decided, said something important, but what, he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Just considered himself grateful that JC’s tongue hadn’t ever found its way into his mouth. JC ate shit like seaweed and snails.
Chris was pretty sure contact with JC’s saliva would kill him.
~~~
Justin, predictably, was eating cereal when Chris woke up. Chris scratched his nuts then his stomach then under his armpit, and when that routine was done, he sat down to watch Justin meticulously eat his Lucky Charms. Drenched it all in milk then eat the surface then into middle-cereal then finally to the bottom row, which he sorted through carefully to pick out the marshmallows. When it was all gone, Justin lifted the bowl to his lips in a sacrifice to his gods and drank heartily. Then he burped. The kid just didn’t have manners when it came to that.
“You do realise you’re a neurotic freak, right?” Chris asked.
Justin looked up and offered his hand. “Pot, kettle, hi, nice to meet you.”
Chris stopped what he was doing – which was pouring the cereal directly into his mouth – and raised an eyebrow, his cheeks puffed out with Lucky Charms. Justin smirked and tried to poke them. Pretty soon, they were both on the ground, Chris spitting Lucky Charms everywhere as Justin crowed above him.
“You idiots could wake the dead,” Joey muttered, wearing a pair of boxers and very little else. Carefully, he stepped around Chris’s head, so Chris bit his ankle, getting himself a swift kick to the head as response. “Fuck, Kirkpatrick. What is wrong with you?”
Chris sat up and dusted the marshmallows off his flannel pajamas – a Christmas gift from his mother, who thought he should attempt to look good, if not when awake, in sleep – as Justin swept the floor. Which was good, because Chris certainly wasn’t going to do it himself.
“So, who’s making me breakfast?” Chris asked.
“I gotta take a shower,” Joey said and walked away before Chris could plead, and Justin was already at the door, lacing up his boots. When he looked up, he smiled like a bastard, and Chris waved his fist at him.
“Sorry. C’s been awake for hours. I’m supposed to meet him to go snowboarding. You know, quality bonding time and stuff, and he has this song idea he wants me to help him work out. About snowboarding. I’m just gonna go with it, I think,” Justin said.
Chris waved goodbye as they left then sighed mournfully and got up to make himself something to eat. He settled on four slices of plain untoasted bread and a cup of orange juice, which he spilled, and it sucked. When Lance came out, already dressed, he raised an eyebrow, and Chris felt even lamer, the bread hanging out of his mouth.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m making scrambled eggs. Do you want some?” Lance asked, and Chris nodded, swallowing the gooey mess in his mouth. Lance’s scrambled eggs, though disgusting, were edible with enough ketchup. “What are you doing today?”
Chris eyed Lance’s back suspiciously. What did he mean by that? Did Lance want to do something with Chris that would eventually lead to more homoeroticism in Chris’s life? Asshole, Chris decided, how dare he act so nonchalant, like nothing happened, like scrambled eggs could forgive turning Chris’s world upside down? So Chris shrugged largely. “I dunno.”
“I’m going skiing, if you want to come.”
Chris glared at him. What sort of euphemism for brief sexual contact was that? And Bass, on skis? Right. Chris would have to come – no pun intended – just to make sure Lance didn’t break something, like his face, or his ass. Both of which, Chris resentfully admitted, were too nice to be messed up. Lance was a sex icon. Chris needed to protect that.
“I guess,” Chris said. “Just, don’t try any funny business, all right?”
Lance turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I know about your wily plans, you cunning bastard, and I assure you, it’ll take more than that to get me where you want me,” Chris announced in his loudly menacing voice, which he usually used on guys named Joe Bob that tried to kick their collective asses in Southern clubs. Lance just rolled his eyes, and Chris snarled at him.
Lance’s so-called skiing wasn’t going to get Chris to reject his heterosexuality. Lance, Chris decided, was going to have to buy him at least a couple drinks.
~~~
Lance really couldn’t ski. Chris wasn’t good at it, either, so he couldn’t help him. They stuck to the kiddie hill, which consisted of them, a set of identical twins and a little girl who could ski better than Chris and Lance combined. The only thing Chris had over Lance was the fact he could get halfway down the bunny hill before falling on his ass. For a while, Lance couldn’t even get off the ski lift, and Chris had tried to get him off, but Lance wouldn’t budge. Eventually, one of the ski instructors had to come over and help.
“Do not say a word,” Lance gritted through clenched teeth, and Chris shook his head, which was too much movement for his tangled skis. Chris lost his footing and went down the hill backwards, nearly taking out one half of the twins. The other one smacked Chris on the head with his pole.
“I hate children,” Chris informed Lance when he arrived at the top of the hill. Lance was clutching a tree, and Chris recognised the look on his face. Lance used to wear a similar one when Lou made him dance in front of company people. Lance always screwed up then, too.
“I’m going to do this,” Lance said suddenly, and he pushed off.
Chris watched him make it a third of the way down then fall and hit a tree. Chris sighed. It probably would have been better if Lance had just attempted to get at Chris’s fine ass instead of putting himself on two skis of death. He had a better chance of success.
Chris took off his skis and walked down to save him.
~~~
They ate lunch in the chalet, where they found Joey already eating. Chris sat down next to him and stole a few of his french fries. Joey elbowed him hard in the gut, and Chris backed off, picking up a menu. He nearly swallowed his tongue at the prices. Did they think he was made of money? Chris hated being rich enough to afford it.
“How’d it go?” Joey asked. He’d opted to go hang around the hot tubs, since he was talented at sports in an offhand and lucky way, only slightly better when snow was involved. Joey was smart. He chose to ogle half-naked chicks. Chris would have to do that, too.
“I’m really bad,” Lance said. The side of his face was all scrapped up and red from the smack he got from the branch. The twins and the talented little girl had heard an earful of some of Lance’s more colourful Southern curses. Chris suspected none of them were ever going to be allowed to pick up another Nsync album, once their parents got word of it. “I’m going to try skating, I think. I’m okay on skates.”
Joey nodded politely, and Chris got another elbow. He nodded, too. The truth was, Lance wasn’t any good at that either, tended to do the splits a lot and grab onto someone, usually Joey, and not let go. Chris, on the other hand, was a master on skates. It was the latent hockey player in him. It was always ready to come out and whup some ass.
“I’m going to buy some Advil or something,” Lance muttered, touching his cheek. “Get me, like, I don’t know. Something low fat,” and he wandered off, careening into a waiter and sending four glasses of water flying. Chris didn’t laugh. At least, not until Lance was out of earshot then he grinned and chuckled under his breath.
The waitress came over, and Chris got Lance plain chicken, with plain potatoes and cooked carrots. Chris ordered himself a rare steak, with extra onions and an extra side of fries. Joey was still chewing on his burger, so Chris decided just to ask.
“Hey, Joe. Has Lance ever kissed you?” Chris asked quietly.
Joey swallowed. “Lance Bass?”
Chris rolled his eyes. They were going to play this game, were they? Or, perhaps, in Joey’s circle of ex-girlfriends, relatives, acquaintances, friends and former co-workers, he seriously did know another Lance. Chris curbed his smart-assed retort and simply nodded.
“I can’t say that he has,” Joey said then pursed his lips together thoughtfully, his brow wrinkling. When Joey thought, the whole world seemed to know. His thoughts were buried deep inside while Chris’s always skittered around on the top. That’s why Chris could blurt out the entire lineup of the Pittsburgh Steelers on demand, and Joey couldn’t even remember which sport the Steelers played. “Nope. I’m pretty sure Lance has never kissed me.”
Chris sighed deeply. Fuck. If Bass wouldn’t kiss Joey, then there was no reason besides the obvious one for him to kiss Chris. Lance was madly in love with him. Chris was going to have to let him down gently, then. Besides, Lance had a girlfriend, and Chris knew they slept together. Lance wasn’t, despite popular opinion, gay.
“Kirkpatrick,” Joey said suddenly. Chris turned to look at him and tried to appear innocent, but Joey looked like a predator, all self-satisfied and confident. This was why Chris often went to JC with personal issues. JC couldn’t be bothered with petty mortals and rarely looked under the surface of Chris’s questions.
Chris opened a packet of sugar and poured it into his mouth.
“Did Lance kiss you?” Joey asked.
Chris shook his head and sucked until the sugar dissolved, but Joey wasn’t buying it and punched him in the gut. Irritated, Chris shoved his hands away. He didn’t want to be told that Lance had been pining after him forever and wanted him so badly it hurt and had since he was sixteen. Chris wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment. Lance was the type of guy who believed in marriage.
“I can ask Lance when he gets back,” Joey said.
“Fuck. Just don’t say anything to anyone else, okay? It’s embarrassing.”
“Lance? I don’t know. His breath always smells good.” Joey took another big bite and chewed thoughtfully. Chris was repulsed. People were so disgusting when they ate, all loud and liquid. “Did he traumatise you when he did it or something?”
Chris thought back. The hands on his ass kind of surprised him, but many a person had copped a feel of his fine ass, so adding Lance to the rank wasn’t too hard. If anything, Chris couldn’t blame him. If Chris saw his own ass, he’d want to squeeze, too. It was just that fine.
“The tongue in my mouth kinda weirded me out,” Chris admitted.
“Tongue, huh?” Joey smacked his lips clean, and Chris thought he was going to vomit. “How long did this supposed kiss go on for?”
Chris knew he should say a few seconds. Instead, he said, “um. A while.”
Joey took a drink of water, and if he didn’t cut that shit out, Chris was going to throttle him. Did Joey not have any idea how repulsive the sound of sloppy food in his mouth sounded? Times like this, Chris understood why Kelly didn’t want to date him. “Like, what’s a while, Chris?”
“A minute,” Chris said, and Joey crooked an eyebrow. “Or twenty.”
Joey snorted. “You made out with him, man. That wasn’t Lance kissing you. That was you making out with Lance.” Joey smacked Chris hard on the back, and Chris spilled the packet of sugar he was holding. It took all the strength he had not to lick it up. “Was he drunk?”
“Very,” Chris replied and brushed the sugar into his palm.
“Then he probably doesn’t remember it. Dude has, like, a sucky memory to begin with, but throwing alcohol into the mix? No. Sometimes, he doesn’t even answer to Lance. Just looks at me blankly like I’m making it up.” Joey shrugged and shoved the last of the burger into his mouth, and Chris closed his eyes tightly. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” Chris replied.
“Uh-huh,” Joey said and started in on his french fries. Chris looked at his palm full of sugar then sucked the mound into his mouth. There was nothing better in this world than pure granulated sugar. “You hot for him or something?”
“Hello, straight,” Chris reminded him, and rolled his eyes for good measure.
Abruptly, Joey started laughing. Tears squirted from his eyes, snorting ensued, the whole nine yards. Chris, in that moment, really hated him. Joey slapped the table around a bit then gasped in sharply, keening with laughter. Chris buried his face in his hands.
“Oh, man, you’re something else. I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Joey slapped Chris, hard, on the back. He needed to cut that shit out, if he didn’t want a can of Kirkpatrick whupass opened on his fat behind. “Listen, I gotta go. The ladies and I have a tubbing date. Just one thing man: if you fuck with Lance at all, you know I’m gonna have to kick you around. He’s, like, sensitive and shit. So don’t.”
“He’s fucking with me,” Chris said. It sounded like a whine, even to himself.
“Whatever. Just be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” Chris said and smacked Joey on the ass as he left, hard. Joey thumped him on top of the head, and Chris’s world spun for a second. When his eyes straightened, Joey was gone, and Lance was coming back.
Great, Chris thought, and hoped his steak came soon.
~~~
Lance tried to ditch him after lunch, but Chris wouldn’t have it, so he tagged along. Lance was hell bent on skating. They had a choice between a pond and a rink, and Lance, of course, picked the pond. He really was nature boy, when it got right down to it. Chris blamed the whole hunting thing, which still freaked Chris out.
“If the ice cracks and you fall in, I’m not saving you,” Chris told him, lacing up his brought-from-home skates. He could have rented a pair, but Chris was a firm believer in foot fungus and his feet already had enough problems. They were minuscule. He didn’t want to add disease to the ranks, too. His self-esteem couldn’t handle it. “And I’m not helping you.”
Lance gave him the shifty eye.
Chris launched himself at the ice, circling the edge then practising his stops. Just like riding a bike. The theory was that Chris was born with skates already attached to his feet. That, or he came out singing. The stories varied, but nonetheless, Chris considered himself a minor god on blades. He could even do jumps, since he won free figure skating lessons when he was eight.
Lance was infinitely amusing on skates. He reminded Chris of Bambi, in more ways than one. The wobbly legs helped, but the big eyes just completed the whole thing. Lance skittered unsteadily, reaching out just in case he fell. Chris sighed deeply.
“If you keep your ankles from bending, you’ll stand up better,” Chris said, spiralling around Lance, and Lance glared at him. Chris did a series of cross-overs then a few figure-eights. Lance glared at him some more. “Be confident, man. The worst that’s gonna happen is you’re going to fall on your ass, and guy, you have plenty of padding. All right?”
Chris was suddenly flat on his back, and it took him a few seconds to realise that blur of motion was actually Lance’s palm to his chest. Of course, Lance went flying in the opposite direction, down for the count. Chris blinked then sat up, rubbing his head.
“What is your fucking problem with me?” Lance snapped, trying to push to his feet, but his skates kept sliding in opposite directions. Chris skated over and heaved him up, arms hooked under his armpits. “You’re ruining this vacation for me, and I kind of need this time to regroup, okay?”
Chris frowned. “Why?”
Lance brushed the snow off his knees. “I don’t want to talk about it, Chris. Go bother JC, okay? He probably won’t even notice you’re there.” Lance started moving towards the picnic table where their shoes sat in a plastic bag. “You’re just too much right now. I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t be.”
Chris wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t recognise an incredibly upset Lance when he saw one. Carefully, he moved up beside him. It wasn’t hard to catch up, since he was moving so slow. Of course, Chris was a bit worried about Lance pushing him down again.
Chris hated knowing someone was mad at him, especially one of the guys, since they were his livelihood and his life and the source of the only unadulterated happiness that he’d ever felt in his own life. Chris ventured a quiet, “I can be better, Bass. Okay? I’m sorry.”
Lance pressed his lips together, and Chris knew everything was all right. Lance held grudges against just about everyone but the four of them, and Chris knew it. The shit list Lance carried around on his laptop was long and detailed, and pretty funny, at some points. Chris really pitied stupid Nick Carter for picking a fight with Lance back in ‘96.
“Laura and I split. Everyone else knows,” Lance muttered, rubbing a mitt over his face. Chris’s face fell, but probably not for the reason Lance thought. Lance just nodded and sat down, kicking his skates into the ground. “Another one bites the dust, you know? I’m terrible with women. I don’t know why I keep trying.”
“Because they’re hot?” Chris suggested, “and they’ve got boobies?”
Lance grinned and nodded, ducking his head. “Yeah, well, there’s that.”
“They smell good,” Chris added.
Lance got a sort of wistful look in his eyes. “Yeah. Laura smelled like apples.”
“Michelle smelled like pears. Dani, too. They used the same shampoo,” Chris said wisely. He didn’t want to admit, of course, that was the reason he dated Michelle, besides the fact she was nice and stuff. It lasted as long as it did for better, less lame reasons, but the initial push was her shampoo brand. “And they’re pretty.”
“Well, JC’s prettier than any girl I’ve ever dated, so I don’t think that can be included in the reasons why we love women,” Lance pointed out. JC’s recent trip into the world of fantastic beauty had left the entire group sexually confused. Chris had even peeked at him undressing, just to make sure he still had the parts. Chris could assure anyone who asked: he mostly certainly did.
Chris was about to wax poetic about how curvy they could be, which he knew they both liked, but then he remembered Lance and his ass and the fact he – honest to god – had childbearing hips, so that line of logic didn’t work. Also, Chris wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Lance’s sex appeal. His entire sense of denial revolved around pretending it didn’t exist.
“Lance, we seriously need to talk,” Chris said.
Lance sighed. “I know. I was hoping you wouldn’t mention it.”
Ah ha. So he did remember. Chris was oddly pleased about that, since he knew he was a good kisser and liked people spreading stories about his talented lips. But beyond that, Chris didn’t know what to say. He liked the idea of Lance not remembering, or not talking about it, or something. But, “I didn’t mention it, you know. I still haven’t named the forbidden act.”
Lance’s eyes went wide. “Oh fuck. Did I sleep with you?”
“Ew, no,” Chris said, and Lance punched him hard in the arm.
“Way to stroke a guy’s ego, fuckhead,” Lance said, but there was no venom in his voice. Chris felt a tiny bit of regret then. Maybe Lance really was fantastic in bed. Laura had always just blushed whenever anyone brought up sex, but Chris sometimes listened in on the conversations of the girlfriends. Lance, Laura always confessed with a quiet voice, was quite skilled.
“I meant it in a nice way. I’d probably be a bit grossed out by sleeping with JC, too, and we can both agree he’d infinitely fuckable,” Chris said, like, it made sense, but rolling the words back over his mind, it didn’t make sense at all. In fact, it sounded pretty stupid. And gay. “Um. You know, in a straight guy way.”
“Yeah, like, if he was in a dress,” Lance asked, and laughed awkwardly. All the nervous energy in Chris’s body zoomed right out of him. Okay, this Chris could handle. Lance didn’t sound too comfortable with this dip into the homoerotic either. “Or if he had breasts.”
“I can’t imagine him being very curvy,” Chris said thoughtfully, “but probably really limber, and like, soft, with all that shit he puts on his skin and stuff.” Chris scratched his short beard, really missing the horns. “So I forgive you, you know, for slipping me the tongue.”
“Yeah, well,” Lance murmured. His face was bright red, but Chris didn’t know if it was from the cold or the shame or both. Probably both, Chris decided, since Lance was shivering and eyeing the ground sheepishly. “How about we just pretend I didn’t, and swear never to tell a soul?”
Chris winced. “I told Joey.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What did you do that for?”
“You freaked me out!” Chris said defensively, feeling a bit hurt now that Lance was carrying on like it was some horrifically scarring experience. Chris had talented lips, and a mighty fine ass. Lance should be grateful to have intimate knowledge of both. “I didn’t tell, like, Justin or something. The whole world would know by now, plus his mother and Britney.”
“They’d be planning the fucking wedding, the three of them,” Lance said, and sighed deeply. His cheeks look really raw. Chris untwisted his own scarf from around his neck as Lance kept talking. “I can’t believe you told Joey. He’s never going to let me hear the end of it, either.”
“He’ll go on for years,” Chris agreed and wrapped Lance up, patting the woolly fabric against his face. Lance stared at him like Chris had grown an extra head. “Jesus. Come on, skate boy. I snuck the Nintendo 64 into my bag. We can play inside.”
Lance sighed but followed reluctantly, after he’d put on his boots and tossed the skates into the trees. Chris was impressed. Lance had a pretty good arm.
~~~
At one point, JC fluttered into the cabin, bright red and out of breath. He panted hard as he tried to explain his wonderful new song and that Justin was a dweeb – which Chris already knew, but it was nice to have confirmation – then ran back out of the door after grabbing the stack of crazy carpets Chris had also snuck into his bag.
“Do you ever think we need to get him some help or something?” Chris asked, and Lance smirked, the game of Goldeneye paused. It was just as well, Chris thought miserably. Lance was a far better killer than he could ever be. It was fun, anyway, but Chris’s manhood was feeling a bit wounded. “No, seriously.”
“He’s eccentric, Chris. That’s the way he’s supposed to act,” Lance said, and patted Chris’s shoulder. They’d been drinking beer since they got in, and they were a bit off centre. The prerequisite drunken orgy jokes had already been made, so Chris felt a bit more comfortable. Lance had really straight teeth.
“You wanna make out again?” Chris asked quickly, since they were alone, and Chris was feeling pretty lonely, and Lance was there. And the precedent, which allowed Chris to feel assured that Lance wouldn’t puke on him for sucking his tongue, either.
In the awkward silence that followed, Chris twiddled his thumbs. Lance was still looking at him, all neutral and shit, like he was rolling the idea through his head. Back and forth, back and forth. Lance’s head was probably pretty boring like that, Chris realised, since he couldn’t memorise a song lyric to save his life either. His brain probably repeated a lot. How dull.
“I think you should know,” Lance finally said, and Chris ignored the sense of foreboding which was just waiting to kick his ass, “that I, though I am straight, have had a straight-guy crush on you for years. Before you encourage my homoerotic behaviour, you need to know that.”
“Oh.” Chris wasn’t sure what the proper response to that besides extreme flattery. Bass had a crush on him, a straight guy crush, which transcended gender and, like, fucked with his head. That sort of crush, Chris felt, was the best. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Also, I’m probably on the rebound,” Lance added, sliding a bit closer, and Chris bit his lower lip. Suddenly, he was really fucking nervous. “So making out with one of my best friends sounds like a really good idea, even though it’s probably not. The beer’s certainly not helping.”
“I’m just really oversexed,” Chris explained, “and horny.”
“It happens,” Lance said and stopped. Chris felt heady, like he was back in high school making out with Melanie, the band geek, for the first time. No girl had taken him seriously until then. Melanie hadn’t really, either, but she was nice about it. “Hey, why don’t we move to the couch, where it’s comfortable?”
“And I’ll turn off the lights,” Chris said and jogged to the light switch, plunging the cabin into darkness. On the way back, Chris tripped off two pairs of boots, the plates from dinner, the Nintendo cords then Lance’s foot. Lance, being the last in a long string, grunted as Chris fell on him. Lance was surprisingly firm. “Can’t say I don’t know how to impress.”
“I’m not sure I want to be kissing a dorky klutz,” Lance’s voice said. Chris wasn’t sure where his head actually was at all, so he reached up and accidentally poked a finger in Lance’s nose. Lance snorted. It tickled. “Come on. Before they come back.”
Lance’s hands circled his waist and helped Chris get oriented. Chris shivered. He wanted to point out that if Lance was so chickenshit about getting caught that maybe they should move into a bedroom with locking doors, but then that sounded like a proposition. Chris wasn’t quite at that point yet, so he didn’t suggest it.
~~~
Lance was a good kisser. He didn’t just stay on the mouth but kissed the corner of Chris’s lips then along his jaw and down his neck. There was an awkward moment when neither of them seemed to know what to do with their hands or how close they should get, but after a moment of fumbling, Chris settled with a leg thrown over Lance’s thighs, back against the armrest. Lance kept his hands on Chris’s shoulders. Chris put on hand on Lance’s hip and clutched the couch for dear life with the other one.
It was intense. Chris didn’t make out often, usually just wanted to get right into the action, and he knew that was wrong and selfish of him, but he didn’t get laid nearly as much as he liked. As in, never. The groupies were all skanky. Chris didn’t trust his dick near them.
Lance got a bit fresh, which was fine. For a straight guy, Lance seemed a bit too preoccupied with Chris’s fine ass, but Chris wasn’t going to complain. Instead, he fanned his hand low on Lance’s belly and ruffled the soft hair with his finger. Whenever he did, Lance shuddered and smiled against his lips.
The tongue wasn’t quite so freaky this time around either, Chris was happy to note. In fact, he liked it so much he returned the gesture. Lance’s tongue was sweet-tasting and knew when too much was too much, withdrawing and entering at the perfect times. Chris was practically swooning. It was so fucking hot, and he was so hard. He was convinced his cock was going to have the ripple of a zipper against it the next time he saw it.
They heard a loud thump on the door and jumped apart. Chris landed on the floor and immediately closed his eyes to play dead. If they wondered, he, in his old age, fell asleep mid-Goldeneye. Lance was breathing heavy, feigning the same sort of accidental sleep. Chris was only mildly bitter he got the floor. In the real situation, Chris would have pushed Lance off the couch hours ago.
“Shh,” Justin said. Fucking kid, he sounded drunk. “They’re sleeping.”
“Well, wake them up!” Joey flicked on the lights, and Chris hissed. After an hour in the dark, he couldn’t see anything when the room was flooded. He sat up, keeping his hand away from his lips. He hoped they weren’t bruised, and they probably weren’t, but he was sure Lance had given him a hickey.
JC shouted. “Hey boys! Hello!” And flapped his arms around.
Drunk bastards. Chris pushed to his feet and teetered unsteadily, so yeah, he was pretty drunk, too. Lance was sitting up, red in the face and lips still wet. Chris refused to look at him beyond that. JC, anyway, was providing much more entertainment, marching in circles around the room and singing bad show tunes. Justin had his lighter going, waving it in the air.
“I’m going to bed,” Lance muttered. Chris watched him go and couldn’t think of a clever way to invite himself along. Not that Chris expected sex or anything, since he was straight, but Lance was warm and comfortable. Chris certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea, not anymore.
Joey grabbed Chris by the ear. “What did I tell you?”
When Joey finally let go after he’d dragged Chris to the kitchen, Chris rubbed his swollen ear, scowling. Fucking Joey, so big and strong and mean. He didn’t have to be such a pussy about things. Chris was really feeling regretful that he’d opened his big fat mouth at all. If he was Lance, he wouldn’t kiss Joey either. “You said ‘don’t fuck with him,’ and I didn’t at all.”
“You have a fucking hickey on your neck,” Joey hissed.
Fucking Lance, with his fucking mouth like a hoover. Chris sighed deeply and put his hand against his skin. It was oddly hot, and felt a bit raw under his palm. “Listen,” Chris said, “I’m not fucking around with him, okay? Stop being an ass.”
“Joey!”
JC launched himself onto Joey’s back, effectively ending the conversation. When JC presented his cheek, Chris kissed it. JC squealed and declared he loved the world, and Chris left him with a pat on the head. Served Joey right, to be stuck with him and Timberlake, who was eating bologna from a package out of the fridge. Idly, Chris hoped that was part of the grocery package Lance ordered. If not, Justin was going to be very sick in the morning.
~~~
Chris dressed down to his boxers and his undershirt then climbed under the covers. Suddenly, he was exhausted. He was half asleep when the door opened and lifted his head, blinking. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He’d taken his contacts out and knocked his glasses to the ground getting into bed. The blur looked like Lance, though.
“Straight guys sleep in the same bed, right? I’m cold.”
“Slide in,” Chris said and lifted up the comforter. Lance was wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. They hung low on his hips, and the dim light coming in through the slits in the blinds from the outside outlined every muscle on Lance nubile, young body. Oh jeez, Chris thought, bye-bye heterosexuality, as it fluttered away.
Lance stayed on his side, so Chris remained where he was, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. Now, he wasn’t tired at all. The beer was still in his blood, slowing down his brain, but that was probably good thing. Otherwise, he’d be spazzing out and nobody needed that.
“This is a bit weirder than I thought it would be,” Lance admitted.
“Yep,” Chris agreed. Maybe Lance wasn’t touching him, but he was close. Chris could feel the heat radiating off his body. “I feel kinda naughty,” Chris admitted, squeezing his legs together. His dick was hard. He thought about touching it but didn’t.
“It’d be naughtier if we didn’t have clothes on,” Lance said.
Chris eyed the ceiling. Was that an invitation? The idea of just being naked in bed with Lance was suddenly the sexiest thing Chris could ever imagine. His cock twitched at the idea, and he edged his fingers down his belly to pat it. He wanted it to know that, regardless, they were going to jerk off in the shower tomorrow.
Lance moved around a bit then a pair of pants were tossed to the end of the bed. No one could ever say Lance wasn’t pro-active, what with now being buck naked and stuff. Quickly, Chris shrugged out of his shirt and boxers, pushing them off the side of the mattress.
Chris didn’t know what to possibly say in this situation, so he said, “you ever play doctor when you were a kid?”
“You’re talking to a guy who had an intense fear of private parts until he was at least sixteen,” Lance replied. The porn voice was on, a low rumble that practically shook the sheets. And Chris was lying in bed naked with its possessor. Great.
“I seriously didn’t start masturbating until I met you guys,” Lance admitted. Sure, Lance had told them that all once, but Chris hadn’t actually believed it. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the idea. Chris couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t wanked off regularly. “You guys practically made it into an Olympic sport.”
“You’re a big freak,” Chris told him.
“It was sinful, man. My minister was all hellfire and brimstone for young men who fondled their genitals. He said it just like that, too. Young men who fondled their genitals,” Lance repeated, in a deep and serious voice. Chris grinned in the darkness.
They lapsed into silence, until Lance said.
“You’re uncut, right?”
“Yep,” Chris said. Lance obviously knew that, but Chris was swift. He knew that Lance was building up to something big, so he didn’t say anything else.
Lance shifted on the bed, and his fingers brushed Chris’s hand. Chris wanted to grab them and hold on for dear life, but he was afraid to move. This shouldn’t be sexy at all, but Chris was like a thirteen year old boy in the way he liked to talk about sex, especially the practices of his friends. Chris prided himself on his knowledge of JC’s love for oversized dildos or Joey’s technique for going down on a chick. Justin, the asexual, didn’t do anything neat at all.
“What’s that like?” Lance asked.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. You know, no points of comparison, since I’m straight,” Chris reminded him, and Lance hummed thoughtfully. It seemed absurd, to bring it up, but there it was. Chris and Lance, two straight guys in Wisconsin, trapped in a viciously addictive pattern of homoeroticism.
“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” Chris blurted out. Inwardly, he winced. He hadn’t really liked being eleven at the time, so he didn’t know why he was regressing to it again. Fucking Bass, Chris decided. This was all his fault.
“Okay,” Lance said. “Who first?”
“You.”
Chris mentally prepared himself for Lance’s hand. When Lance reached over he was going to discover that Chris was already hard as a fucking rock and leaking and gross, with sweaty balls and trimmed pubes. Lance was about to possess intimate firsthand knowledge of Chris’s cock and all its fantastical glory. Chris merely hoped Lance could handle the experience.
Lance groped around blindly at first. He got Chris’s knee then followed his thigh to his hips. Chris held his breath as Lance felt around, squeezing and rubbing. When Lance pulled back his foreskin, Chris closed his eyes tightly. Hanging out of the sheets, his toes curled.
“It’s kind of rubbery,” Lance said.
“Gee, thanks.” Chris forced it out through gritted teeth. Lance was now jerking him off slowly, though Chris wasn’t sure that was actually the intention. If it was, god bless him. If not, that was fine, too.
“Nice, though. Feels neat,” Lance muttered, and Chris nodded stupidly, though it was dark and Lance couldn’t see. Tomorrow, when Chris wondered how the fuck he got himself into this position, was going to be fun. Right after he changed the sheets.
“Is the head really sensitive?”
And Lance fucking dragged his thumb right across it. Chris thumped him hard on the stomach, and Lance let go. To take his own mind off the burning in his balls, Chris rubbed Lance’s belly gently. It was flat and soft and rippled, and it moved whenever Lance breathed.
“Things are going to be weird tomorrow,” Chris said, and Lance hummed in agreement. Well, that was good. At least they were accepting that they were both going to flip, fingers possessed with intimate knowledge of each other’s cocks. Nothing like a little fondling under the sheets to bring two guys closer together.
“You chickening out?” Lance asked.
“No. Just working myself up,” Chris said. Truth was, he was chicken, and it was so safe to keep his hand on Lance’s stomach. But, slowly, he walked his fingers down Lance’s body, and hello. Lance’s dick, bumping between his index and middle finger. “See. I’m fine.”
“Uh huh,” Lance said. It sounded like his teeth were grinding.
Chris circled the shaft with his hand and held it firmly. Huh. Okay. The same sort of glide across his palm, but less, like it was muted somehow. And the skin was tighter, though it felt mostly the same, hot and velvet. The head, though, felt a tiny bit different. Maybe.
Chris flicked his wrists, just to test the waters, as they were. Lance twisted his hips, and Chris grinned then did it again. There was less to work with, less skin to move around, but Lance didn’t seem to be suffering for it. Casually, Chris jerked him off.
“You don’t have to do that,” Lance muttered. It sounded forced, like he didn’t want to say it but felt obligated to put it out there. Chris appreciated that Lance was thoughtful about stuff like that, concerned about his feelings and stuff. Laura probably liked that, too.
“You want me to stop?” Chris asked. He honestly didn’t think he could, even if Lance asked, but crazier things had happened in his life, including Lance and his needy sex organ. Chris paused his hand, and Lance squirmed. “Right. So, like. I’m just doing this as a straight friend.”
“I’ll do it back.”
“You better.”
~~~
Chris threw himself into the shower when it was still early. He was covered in jizz, which was freaking him out because he couldn’t tell if it was all his. Having been a guy all his life, Chris’s own semen no longer bothered him, but Lance’s did, just on the principle of the thing.
When the door opened and shut, Chris was just shampooing his hair, but he pulled back the curtain and squinted. Lance was at the john, pissing. He looked up at the noise of the plastic, eyes flicking back over his shoulder, and Chris pointed at him.
“Good god, man! What are you doing?”
“Peeing?” Lance asked and rotated his hips, tinkling around the bowl. Show off, Chris thought miserably, rubbing at his eyes. Chris would have pissed all over the floor, and they both knew it. “If you haven’t learned how to do this by now, Chris --”
Chris blinked, held up his hand then put his head under the spray, to wash the soap out of his eyes. They were burning, and he was tearing up, and he really didn’t need any ‘you don’t have to cry about it’ jokes right now. Chris was, even if no one believed him, not even his own mother, a very sensitive man.
Chris stuck his head back out. “No, dude. There’s a thing called privacy.”
Lance adjusted his dick with one hand as the other hoisted the thin pajama pants higher on his curved hips. Damn, Chris thought, but Lance had a fine, round ass. It was really unfair, that Lance possessed such a rear when there were much more deserving people, most of them women.
“Chris?”
Chris looked up at him, his eyelids still on fire. He palmed them, keeping the curtain around his waist with his free hand, and Lance smirked at him. Chris sighed, squinting again. “Can’t a guy have a little straight spazz out by himself these days without the instigator himself pissing in front of him?”
Lance laughed. “Watch me make it worse,” and he dropped his pants.
Chris squished his eyes shut.
“We are not having a gay love affair,” Chris said as Lance invited himself into the shower. Chris kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see Lance’s dick, not now, not after having touched it. Before, it was fine, just a cock, a little big, and nice full balls, the hint of a natural hair colour to Lance all over the place, but now. Now, it was The Dick of Doom.
“You want me to scrub your back?” Lance asked, his voice dangerously close to Chris’s ear, so low and rumbly, so sexy. Chris jumped when Lance’s hands rested on his hips, big and hot and steady. Lance paused. “Wait, are you seriously freaking out?”
“Yes,” Chris squeaked.
“You want me to go?” Lance asked.
Chris thought about that for a moment.
Then said, “no.”
~~~
Chris made Lance wait in the bathroom for ten minutes, so it didn’t look like they’d just done anything together. Certainly not jerked each other off again, or kissed as they did it. No sir. Chris walked like a man who hadn’t had sex for years, shoulders slumped, eyes barely opened. He could only hope it was convincing.
JC was making pancakes for everyone, singing happily to the radio that hung under the cupboards. Justin sat at the table, looking miserable and hungover, and Joey was washing a basket of strawberries. His stomach rumbling, Chris sat down. Lance, right on time, came out of a few minutes later, looking chipper and trendy as always.
Chris ate and felt gay. So gay. Joey glared at him from the time he sat down to the time he got up to go hot-tubbing and, oddly enough, ice-sculpting lessons. Chris wanted to kick his fat ass, but couldn’t think of a good enough excuse why he ought to, besides Joey’s smirking face, or his ugly as fuck sweater. The reasons seemed lame, and Chris wouldn’t willingly bring another label onto himself, not when Gay was already hugging his skin.
“JC and I are going boarding again. We’re competing against other couples, though, like we’re not a couple at all,” Justin quickly pointed out as JC sucked on a strawberry, his wild hair haloing his face. Chris didn’t know how, but he was sure this sudden burst of queer activity was somehow related to JC’s increasing adorableness.
“We’re good,” JC said, grinning and flipped his curls back with a flick of his pretty head. “Like, they asked us if we wanted to. Since we’re good. And yes.” JC stood up and collected the plates, humming to himself. “We win a free dinner if we come in first.”
“Freedom!” Justin roared, pounding the table, and JC jumped, shrieking. The plates clattered to the ground, shattering. JC and Justin exchanged guilty looks, and JC’s eyelids fluttered like he was about to start sniffling or something. Chris rolled his eyes.
“Jesus. Go win your free dinner. I’ll clean up,” Chris said.
“Are you sure?” JC asked as Justin started pulling. Justin was a smart kid. Chris wouldn’t trust himself either, but he meant it, at least for the next ten seconds. Curtly, he nodded, and started counting down. JC must have seen something because he grabbed his gear, and his boots, and his snow clothes, and ran out the door in his bare feet. Justin was close behind him.
Chris got down on his hands and knees and started gathering the broken plate pieces in his hand, and he didn’t mind at all when Lance joined him. If he was going to suffer for a moment of goodliness, then he might as well make Lance do it, too. Especially since Lance had seduced him.
“You want to stay in and fuck around?” Lance asked.
“No,” Chris muttered, though he did. A lot.
“Please?”
Chris looked up at him, and Lance smiled, not his usual insincere one, but an honest one. He leaned over the wasteland of plates and kissed him quickly, and Chris sighed deeply. He was so fucking easy. It wasn’t enough that a hot chick had to just look his way – which never happened in the real world – and he was ready to thrust with joy, but it seemed to apply to Lance, too.
“Okay,” Chris said.
~~~
So Chris was curious. So what. By the time the floor was mopped and the proper parties alerted that the destructive boybanders had trashed the kitchen and killed five cheap plates, Chris could admit that much. He was thirty. He might as well experiment before he got too old to appreciate it, with the impending impotent dick and huge beer belly. Or bad knees.
They went to Lance’s room this time. Lance locked the door but kept the windows open. The room looked out over a ravine, anyway. It was safe, and Lance said he liked sunlight. Chris agreed, but made it clear it wasn’t his fault when the Sun posted pictures of his naked ass.
Lance was wearing a very soft sweater, his neck covered in the wool. It was a lot hotter than Chris wanted to think about. Lance wore sweaters as well as Chris wore black. It just suited him, even if he looked preppy and perfect and unreal.
“You gonna take off your clothes?” Lance asked, pulling at the edge of his sweater, and Chris nodded, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down. He folded them, then his shirt, then his socks. Casually, he glanced back at Lance, who was down to his boxers. Lance grinned and pushed them off, snapping them at Chris’s feet. Chris tugged his own off.
Lance really liked his foreskin. Chris couldn’t understand it, since he knew the only reason he wasn’t cut was because his mom hadn’t had the money to do it when he was born, and no one else was going to pay for it. Chris thought his dick looked shady, untrustworthy, like it was up to no good, but he supposed, for Lance, it was a novelty.
“This is absurd,” Chris announced as Lance kissed his neck, hand spread in Chris’s lap, playing with Chris’s cock. Lance grinned against his neck, pulling his knees until they rested on Chris’s thigh. Chris looked at him. “You realise this is weird?”
“I know,” Lance said. “I don’t care.”
It wasn’t a bad weird, though. Chris was even getting used to getting splattered with spunk that wasn’t his, since Lance tended to explode without warning. Chris, on the other hand, kept the entire world updated on what was happening, but Lance was silent. He barely made noise, just breathed a bit sharper or closed his eyes suddenly.
“Where are you really sensitive?” Lance asked suddenly, looking all smart and thoughtful.
Chris twisted up his lips. He didn’t want to talk about it.
“No, seriously, tell me,” Lance said. He poked Chris in the soft of his belly, and Chris grabbed the annoying hand. With a sigh, he moved it to his left nipple and looked at Lance until he understood. Lance grinned. “What, are you all het up about it or something?”
“I’ll have you know, that’s place number two,” Chris said then added, “and I’m completely at ease with my sensitive man-nipples.”
Lance smirked. “You’re funny.”
“You’re a pussy,” Chris told him, simple as that. Lance loved seeing people annoyed, and Chris somehow wasn’t surprised that it applied to being in bed with someone, too. A stupid kink, of course, but then, Chris like playing video games, especially Super Mario Brothers, after a good lay, so who was he to throw the first stone?
“I bet I can figure it out,” Lance said.
Chris rolled his eyes. “Go for it, hotshot. Impress me with your insightfulness.”
Chris often forgot that though Lance wasn’t technically a genius, he faked it well with his heightened sense of instinct and pure tenaciousness. Plus, he has pianist’s hands. Lance played over Chris’s skin, rubbing the pads of fingers over bits and pieces of Chris’s body. Chris wouldn’t ever admit he writhed or anything ridiculous like that, but his legs spread easily.
“I’m such a slut,” Chris said. Under his bent knee, kissing, Lance laughed.
“I have free reign, right?” Lance asked, popping his head up, and Chris opened his eyes. He nodded. When it got right down to it, there really wasn’t anybody Chris trusted his body with more than Lance. Plus, Chris’s dick was pretty stupid, so it would agree to just about anything that resulted in it getting some.
So Lance gave him a blowjob. Chris exploded. The end.
“Are you okay?” Lance asked after the first lick. Chris looked down at him, confused for a second. Hadn’t the world just ended? Wasn’t this all over and Chris now dead? Stupidly, Chris nodded. He was just fine. Was even ready to argue he was peachy keen.
It’d been three months since someone had bothered to give him head, so Chris wasn’t surprised he was being mental about it. It was the slut in him coming out again, or something. The latent homosexual. Whatever it was, Chris just wasn’t going to question anymore. Chris was tired of being denied blowjobs on a regular basis.
Skill-wise, Lance wasn’t awesome or anything. Chris certainly wouldn’t be calling him the Living Vacuum for the next ten years, but Chris wasn’t going to knock it either. It was better than he could do, he thought, but he supposed he’d have to test that hypothesis later, just to be sure. Maybe Chris really was a whiz at head. Maybe he just didn’t know about this amazing skill.
Chris was thinking, somehow, they’d completely gone over the line of innocent male exploration. This was new territory. This was the type of place where it seemed logical that, as Lance slurped away, Chris spread his legs wide and lurched up his hips. Even more reasonable that Lance’s fingers were poking around, and Chris shouted.
“I thought that was it,” Lance said, smacking his lips. His finger was in Chris’s ass, not very far in yet, but he looked like he intended to worm as deep as he could. Chris was torn between denying it, and thrusting back at him, to get him at his prostrate. Sometimes, Dani had done this, and Michelle too, but Chris always played like he was just being daring. In reality, he really, really loved it.
So Lance was smart, Chris was stupid, and that was just the way the world worked out.
~~~
The others came home in late afternoon. Chris was locked in the bathroom, back to freaked-the-fuck-out again. It wasn’t nothing. Putting a dick in his mouth wasn’t nothing. It wasn’t everything either, but Chris felt profoundly changed by it. Lance said he needed some time alone, too. Chris didn’t feel too much like an idiot, knowing that.
Joey pounded on the door until Chris let him in. He tried not to look guilty, or scared, or anything. Set his shoulders straight and grinned his biggest grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes when he glared at himself in the mirror. Joey noticed shit like that. Chris only wished Joey was half as dumb as he came off.
“Please don’t hit me,” Chris said as Joey barged in.
Joey stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong with you? Did it blow up in your face?”
Chris crooked an eyebrow. “Lance told you about that?”
“Ew.” Joey looked legitimately horrified, lips curled in disgust. Whoops, Chris thought. “Dude, that was, like, not an image that I needed in my head, all right?” Joey stuck out his tongue, like he was trying to get the bad taste out of his mouth. “Chris.”
“He seduced me, I’ll have you know,” Chris muttered. His feet were bare and hairy.
Joey groaned loudly and slapped his forehead. “For Christ’s sake, Chris.” Joey grabbed him by the shoulders and shook. Chris flopped around like a jellyfish, only without the stinging skin, which Chris decided was just a pity right about now. Joey deserved some crazy Chris-the-jellyfish burns. “Lance has, like, a crush on you.”
Chris looked at him. “Well, yes, I know that. He told me.”
“He – ” Joey let go “– told you?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Joey scratched his head. “Damn, dude. That was my only reason for protecting him. Didn’t want to see him get his feelings crushed by the Kirkpatrick Charm.” Chris punched Joey in the stomach, and Joey grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “Watch it, dumbass. I’m still bigger than you. And I’ll still kick your ass if you hurt him.”
“It’s only us fooling around. He’s straight,” Chris said, careful not to imply himself, since he was feeling raw and strange, and Joey had laughed at him last time. Chris didn’t want to cry, or something equally asinine, especially not in front of such an insensitive dolt.
But Joey couldn’t let a sleeping dog lie. “And you. you’re still a raging heterosexual.”
“Of course,” Chris said. His tingly dick wanted to say different, but, thankfully, it hadn’t been born with lips, so Chris was safe.
Joey sighed loudly. “Jesus, Chris. You know you can’t go back from this, right? I mean, it doesn’t work like that. Everyone and their monkey claims sex doesn’t change everything, but it does. I know both of you. You won’t be able to go back.”
Chris kicked at the ceramic tile. “I know.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“No,” Chris said.
“Yet you’re still doing it,” Joey said.
Chris took a deep breath then nodded. No one could deny he was doing it. No matter that Chris kept turning chicken when it went too far, he kept coming back. Already, he yearned to be near Lance, preferably naked, but whatever. Chris tried to explain to himself what being straight meant, but it lacked conviction. He couldn’t even believe himself.
“Are you that hard up for sex?” Joey asked. He was always so blunt.
“It’s just. He’s kinda.” Chris tugged on his chin. Fucking beard horns, may they rest in peace. “You see, he.” The tiles on the floor didn’t match the rest of the bathroom, and that was a fucking travesty, all right. Poor ugly ceramic tiles. “He’s. nice.”
Joey pressed a hand to his head and looked pained. Chris thought maybe this was the point in the story where Joey punched him for good measure, but Joey just squeezed his shoulder really, really hard.
“You’re really fucking stupid,” Joey said.
~~~
It was hard. Impossible, even. Chris couldn’t act normal. They all decided to stay and watch movies for a few hours, have a couple drinks, eat unhealthy crap. But Justin sat next to Lance. Somehow, Chris’s fucked up brain decided this was a grave injustice, and he pouted miserably in the corner, snarling to himself. Of all the nerve. Fucking Timberlake. Big fat-head Justin with the ugly nose and brillo-pad hair.
Justin, thankfully, had a bladder the size of a pea, and got up to piss after the first movie. When it looked like JC was about to move into the abandoned space, Chris launched himself over the length of the couch and grabbed it first. JC headed into the kitchen.
“Hi,” Chris said.
Lance smiled at him. “Hey.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Joey got up and left the room, and Chris stuck his tongue out at him. It was either that, or attempt to kick his ass, but Chris had a long history of failed battles against Joey, who was too used to Steve and fighting dirty.
“Careful where you stick that thing,” Lance said. Chris slurped across his cheek then grinned, but Lance didn’t even flinch. He just turned his head and caught Chris’s tongue between his lips. Chris was puzzled at first, but when Lance opened his mouth, he got it. They kissed until Joey said, loudly, “oh, fuck. Where’s the dip? Back into the kitchen.”
Joey smacked Chris upside the head before he sat down.
~~~
Chris held Lance’s hand. It was girlish and ridiculous, but Chris did it anyway. Mostly, he wanted that same hand down his pants, but Lance’s fingers were always dry and cool, so they felt good just curling against the back of his hand, too. Joey kept looking at them, but Chris just stared back at him, daring him to say something.
Somehow, Chris fell asleep, and woke up when the television was off and everyone but Lance was gone. Lance, on the other hand, was sitting quietly, watching him. Chris scrubbed at his eyes and hoped he didn’t look too screwed up from the impromptu nap. He needed his sexy-vibes working at maximum, if he was going to get any tonight.
“Come on, old man,” Lance said and tugged Chris to his feet. Chris really was awake, even if it looked like he was merely sleepwalking. He tripped over the coffee table and stubbed his toe. His eyes prickled with pain, stomach twirling with nausea.
“Are you okay?” Lance asked.
“Ow,” Chris said pitifully. He limped down the hall.
“You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” Lance asked quietly just as Chris went to step into his own room. Chris looked at him and shrugged. He was really tired, worn out from the day. He wouldn’t be much good for anything. Lance didn’t wait for a verbal answer, just grabbed his fingers and wove them with his.
Chris’s toe was aching, and he was exhausted. His limbs felt heavy and useless, and he just sort of fell into Lance’s bed. Lance kneeled over him and stripped off his clothes, though left his boxers on. Chris was barely conscious. The pillow was so soft and comfy under his cheek.
~~~
Chris woke up once when Lance got up to jog to the washroom. When he came back, he slid under the covers, and Chris smacked his lips and threw an arm over his stomach, burrowing into him. Lance started snoring almost immediately, and that was cute.
Chris woke up again, later. Lance was still out, relaxed and rested, and Chris, though he didn’t want to, disentangled himself from the web of Lance’s arms and went to piss. The floor was unnaturally cold, and he danced across it on his tip-toes then peed as quickly as his bladder would allow. He took a running jump and flew into bed. Lance shocked awake.
“Shit,” Lance said and clutched his heart.
“It’s cold,” Chris breathed, pushing against Lance, to siphon some of his warmth. In retrospect, Chris realised running out of Lance’s room in a pair of boxers was nothing short of incriminatory, but whatever. Chris folded over Lance, shivering. Lance’s cock was hard and poked at his belly, but Chris didn’t know if that was because he was sexy or because Lance was still pretty young, even if he didn’t act it.
“You’re heavy,” Lance said but didn’t try to move him.
“It’s only eight,” Chris said, staring at the clock. Lance was a big loser and dragged his alarm clock around with them when they travelled. It was old and crusty, but Lance hadn’t ever been late, not like the rest of them. “I can feel your dick, dude.”
“I know. I can feel yours,” Lance said.
Chris stared at Lance’s left nipple. “You want me to help you out?”
“Yeah,” Lance said.
~~~
JC approached him shyly when Chris came out of the shower, which meant he wanted something. Lance was at the stove, cooking his gross eggs, but Chris tried not to look at him for too long. It was that Bass Ass, all tempting and shit, and the whole secrecy angle they seemed to be promoting was at serious risk.
JC tapped on his shoulder. “Hey, hi. Chris?”
Chris turned around slowly. “Yeah, C?”
“There’s this. Um. This thing,” JC said and pressed his lips together. His tipped his head forward, and his curls bounced around, free and light. Over JC’s shoulder, Lance was watching Chris. Chris smiled crookedly at him. “Okay, right. So there’s this thing.”
“Another free dinner thing?” Chris asked. JC nodded. Justin and JC had come back with a voucher last night, holding it up as they marched around in victory and planned what their meal would be. Some time tonight, they were going out to dinner in town. “Dude, I suck at both skis and boards.”
“Skates. You’re awesome on blades, man,” JC said and smiled, all shy and honest and heartfelt. Fucking Chasez, Chris thought, he knew how to play his cards. Lance seemed to realise the battle was over, that he was not going to win, and he turned back to the stove. Chris just couldn’t say no to JC, not when he was all humble and shit. “Free dinner.”
“Fuck, C. Twist my arm,” Chris said, and JC grabbed his wrist and wretched, just a little bit, beaming. Chris mussed up his hair then shoved him at the table, his stomach growling. “Fine, man. Poor little Timberlake never learned to skate, did he?”
Justin looked up from his cereal, eyes crazy and feral. “Fuck off.”
“You’re worse than Lance,” Chris said. “At least he can stay standing up, and move.”
“He has a lower centre of gravity,” Justin mumbled.
Lance dumped a plate of hot eggs down the back of Justin’s pajamas.
~~~
Skating with JC was like skating with a figure skater, all choreographed movements but also a lot of power once he got going. JC could jump and twirl, but when he tried to do a backflip, ended up on his back, laughing. Chris thought that must have hurt, but if it did, JC evidently didn’t feel it. He just got up and spun around.
JC also brought his own pair of skates, black ones, with picks at the toes. Chris wore his much treasured hockey skates and wondered, idly, if Lance’s were still up in the tree. Hopefully, they wouldn’t fall and end up killing someone. That would suck mightily.
The contest turned out to be some sort of battle of inept, wannabe figure skaters. And Chris thought they won it only because JC was so enthusiastic and could actually do stuff, as opposed to everyone else, who just skated around. Chris jumped around, and did the Bye Bye Bye dance, and only fell twice. It was only near the end that Chris noticed Lance was sitting in the small crowd.
“Your boyfriend is watching,” JC sing-songed, and Chris scowled. JC skated around him, all perfect form and elegant grace. JC wasn’t supposed to catch him catching Lance watching him, or be so insightful. Stupid space cadet. Someone called Major Tom back to earth, the big freak. “Joey’s really pissed, Chris.”
“First off, Bass isn’t my boyfriend, and secondly, Joey can suck my dick,” Chris said. His cock twitched inside his pants at the mention, like it wanted to climb into his body, and Chris would have patted it comfortingly if he wasn’t fucking standing in the middle of everything. It was a scary thought, Joey’s teeth anywhere near his prick.
“We can hear you, you know,” JC said and did a jump.
Chris started trying to skate away, but JC followed him like the plague.
“No, come on. It’s cute,” JC said and grinned. He skipped across the ice, the picks sending a spray of chips in his wake. “I’m glad you finally realised you’re queer. I was waiting. Now, we can talk about boys behind Lance’s back. I’m sure Lance is the jealous type.”
“I am not dating a guy,” Chris repeated.
JC ignored him. “Have you gone all the way?”
“Jesus, C.” Chris started moving faster, towards Lance, who didn’t question and say anything at all, really, except can I and maybe do it like this. Lance definitely wasn’t like JC, who seemed to want to bond over Chris’s recent discovery of a cock other than his own.
JC grabbed him by the back of his jersey. “No, no, Chris.”
Chris stopped and turned around. “What, C?”
“Don’t be scared of it, okay? It’ll seem weird, because you were told it was weird, but Lance likes you, and you like him. Just. don’t be frightened. I want you to be happy,” and JC hugged Chris. Chris patted his back, gently trying to pry him off.
God, Chris thought, trying to squirm free, as if everybody already didn’t think they were gay, now JC was hugging him in the middle of an ice rink, after winning a figure skating contest.
~~~
JC ditched Chris and Lance to prepare for his free dinner shortly after four in the afternoon. Thank fucking god, Chris thought as JC walked away to his room to get dressed. Lance was still sunk low in the big leather chair, hiding his face behind his hand. Chris could sympathise.
“Well, that was mortifying,” Chris said, scratching his knee.
“That part about empty bowels was probably something I could have lived without,” Lance muttered. “Helpful, but equally scarring.”
Chris shuddered. It was kind of like hearing women talk about pregnancy. Chris was sure it was lovely, but all the bodily functions and other juicy delights made Chris thank the powers that be for giving him a dick. Even if they were stupid looking. And messy. And crazy.
“Well, I guess we won’t ever do that,” Chris said slowly.
Lance looked at him. “You want to do that?”
“No. No, of course not. Straight,” Chris reminded him.
Lance glanced away. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s too gay. We should probably stop.”
“Well, we could do that,” Chris amended. Warning, warning, his cock was screaming, you are about to go back to your chaste and celibate lifestyle. Or his own hand, which was quite talented, but Chris was bored with it, mostly. Like Lance, he could never say no to it, and it was very demanding. “You know, if you want.”
“I guess,” Lance said. “I mean, if you’re okay with that.”
“Sure, no problem.” Chris whisked his hand through the air, trying to appear nonchalant, even though his gut was all twisted up and his dick was hard. “I mean, I’m a twenty-first century guy. Tough and manly, yet sensitive and open-minded, too. Also, the ass-fingering thing.”
Chris wobbled his fingers to make his point.
They lapsed into silence. Chris pinched his own thigh until it hurt as punishment for being fucked up in the head. The quiet between them wasn’t comfortable. It was awkward and strange. Fucking everybody, messing everything up. Chris was fine so long as he didn’t think.
“Let’s never talk about this again,” Chris said.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Lance agreed.
~~~
Chris wasn’t sure, in retrospect, if not talking about it ever again meant they weren’t going to do it. Mostly, everything they’d done had been prefaced with conversation. Chris hoped that he hadn’t somehow sabotaged the whole thing. The truth was, it was kind of making him feel shy to talk about it. Sex, like that, with Lance. Chris didn’t do shy. He didn’t know how to handle it.
He hadn’t had a chance to ask either, because Joey came back from his daily bonding with the ladies and demanded they all go get some dinner. Then, when they finally returned to the cabin, JC had bounded into the front room with exciting and thrilling news about exciting and thrilling things going on that didn’t involve free dinners but were still cool.
There was some sort of midnight poetry reading going on, pretentious rich people reading great works, or something. As Chris got dressed, tugging on a big woolly turtleneck sweater, he hoped JC’s promise of a lack of lameness was the truth. Chris had to admit he needed help wherever he could get it when it came to rhyming and lyrics and stuff, but he didn’t think a pretentious poetry reading was going to help. Also, he was terrified JC was going to bring up the sex thing again.
Joey was snoring fifteen minutes in, and Lance kept elbowing him to make him stop but never actually waking him up. They were seated at the back in a row, with Lance in the middle. JC and Justin were up front, being keeners. They both held their notebooks, ready to read.
There was hot chocolate being served by a young woman in a tux. Chris got up to get some, adding huge puffs of whipped cream to it. When he was halfway back to his seat, he realised Lance liked hot chocolate, too. So he turned right around and got a cup for Lance, too. With extra whipped cream.
“Here,” Chris said quietly. Lance took the streaming mug in his hands and smiled. The people in front of them turned around and looked irritated. Chris scowled back. He’d said one fucking word. Besides, people generally liked listening to him. The dude reading Eliot on the stool droned on like a drugged gorilla. Chris thought this was indeed hell.
When Chris looked over at Lance, he giggled, which wasn’t without its own fucking stupid issues. Chris didn’t giggle, but he couldn’t help himself. Lance had a spot of whipped cream on his nose, and he was still drinking, and. It was kind of cute, which twisted up Chris’s stomach. He didn’t want to think so, and he certainly didn’t want to giggle about it.
With a steady thumb, he touched the tip of Lance’s nose and wiped it clean. He held it up for Lance to see when his brow furrowed in confusion, his skin peppered with a muted red blush. Lance still looked baffled, though.
Chris licked his thumb clean.
~~~
They got back and stumbled off to bed, Justin dragging Joey along, who was down for the count. When he did wake up, he said something about Uranus and marshmallows. Chris shook his head and let Justin deal with it. Chris had more important matters to attend to, like waiting in bed to see if Lance would come to his room. The maid had cleaned up his sheets. They smelled new and clean and delicious.
Chris took off his clothes and didn’t feel very sexy, just kind of bloated and old. The bed did smell good, though. That was the one thing he’d give this lodge. It used good detergent and fabric combinations. Under the blankets, Chris waited. He didn’t even know he was holding his breath until the door opened and he exhaled.
Lance crept across the floor, wearing those pajama bottoms that suited him so well. Chris moved back in the bed, to make some room, and eyed Lance’s back as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, pushing his pants off. Chris couldn’t help but reach out and trace his spine. Lance inhaled sharply and shivered. His skin was unnaturally warm under Chris’s hand.
“You know what we talked about earlier?” Lance asked.
“Yeah,” Chris said.
“I don’t think I want to do that tonight,” Lance said and lay back, rolling his head back to look at Chris. Chris nodded and his belly untwisted, moving his hand from under Lance’s body to Lance’s belly, which fluttered under his palm. “I’m kind of confused right now. I think it’ll make it worse, you know?”
“Me too,” Chris said, and felt like laughing with relief. Instead, he buried his face in Lance’s shoulder and huffed out a breath. Lance’s arm snaked across his back, fingers fanning at the base of his spine. “What’re we gonna do about it, Bass?”
“When did I become the mastermind in this plan?”
“When you kissed me, idiot.” Chris, absurdly, felt the urge to nuzzle Lance’s neck, so he did. It was prickly and gross, and Chris decided tomorrow was definitely the day to bring up the beard horns versus chin scruff debate. Plus, Lance just looked nicer clean-shaven.
Lance ran his hand over Chris’s hip then palmed his ass, hesitantly, as if he was weirded out by it, but girls had bums, too, though none as admittedly fine as Chris’s, Chris was willing to concede. The stroking motion made Chris feel sexy and young and, also, a bit sleepy.
“Are you freaked out?” Lance asked. His voice was moist in Chris’s ear.
“A little bit,” Chris said, “but. It’s an okay freak out. I’m cool.”
“I really did think I was straight,” Lance said carefully, like he was offering a piece of himself up. Chris could understand, really, he could. The strict Baptist upbringing, labelled the gay one from practically day one despite all the prime and proper virgins Lance had dated since the group started. He just did it quietly and unassumingly, and they never stayed virgins for long, especially not Lance, who lost his their first week in Germany. Chris finally understood why. Nobody was willing to stay chaste when Lance Bass was offering some hot Mississippi lovin’.
“You probably still are,” Chris said.
“Chris,” Lance said and buried his smile in Chris’s neck. “You.”
Chris stared at the ceiling. “Maybe, I’m just an exception. You said yourself, a straight guy crush. Maybe, I’m so fucking sexy that it was enough to pull you out of your hetero-normative lifestyle and make you reconsider a long held truth about yourself.”
Lance chuckled. “I don’t have a response for that. At least, not one that doesn’t insult you.”
“Hey, I’m sexy, Bass. You wouldn’t be here, trying to get a piece of me, if I wasn’t,” Chris said, and grinned to himself. He felt warm all over, and a little bit sweaty. Lance may be exiled in Wisconsin, but he still radiated heat like the South. It was like sleeping with a furnace. “Admit it, man. I’m so hot that your dick got all confused.”
Chris looked up as Lance’s eyes flickered shut, though his hand was still moving over Chris’s ass. “Fine. You’re right. I’m straight. You’re just so sexy that I couldn’t help myself. In fact, it’s a wonder we haven’t been sleeping together for seven years.”
“Exactly,” Chris said. “Now, shut up and get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” Lance said, though his voice sounded heavy and low. Chris didn’t believe him for an instant, because he was half asleep himself, so he just wiggled until he was flush against Lance’s soft body. In his ear, Lance was already snoring.
~~~
Chris was beginning to remember why he didn’t share a bus with Lance. Lance peed at six in the morning, every morning. It was annoying, and disruptive, and cold. Chris blinked blearily, shifting around in bed, until Lance came back, all warm and soft. Folding over him, so he wouldn’t escape again, Chris fell back asleep.
He woke to Lance whispering, “Hey, hey, can I blow you?” And poking him in the side.
“What time is it?” Chris asked and groaned. He was so tired. It was the first sign of impending middle age. He got offered head in the morning and his first thought was if he’d gotten the recommended eight hours of sleep. It was the beginning of the end, Chris was sure. From now on, he wouldn’t want sex at all, just his nightly dose of Wheel of Fortune.
“Jeez. Sleep some more, then,” and Lance petted him until he fell back asleep.
Chris woke a third time and ran naked to the bathroom, his bladder aching. It was all that hot chocolate, and he pissed with one eye closed, propping himself up with one arm stretched straight against the wall. In the back of his mind, the offer of fellatio lingered, so he cleaned up a bit with a washcloth, just in case Lance was still willing.
Lance was in the middle of the bed, folded up like a pretzel, and Chris bellyflopped on top of him, squishing him awake. The resulting yelp and tangle of limbs was the perfect way to start a day, and even better was sweet-talking Lance into travelling southward. And two fingers, too, which had Chris praising god for all the world to hear. Lance was a very quick learner.
~~~
At breakfast, Justin wore his pajama buttoned up to the top, to prevent a repeat of yesterday’s eggs incident. They all ate cereal anyway, even though Chris hated it. He didn’t care. His dick was still warm and heavy, and he was intensely aware of it in the same way that he had been at twelve, when it started doing cool things. Right now, it was everything to him.
Chris smiled at his cereal and spiralled his spoon through the milk. His thighs were scraped to crap from Lance’s facial hair, but it was a pleasant sort of burn, even though the scruff still had to go. Idly, Chris dropped a hand into his lap, to finger the rough patches through his sweatpants.
“You better not be jerking off at the table, Kirkpatrick,” Joey said.
Chris scowled but put both his hands on top of the table. Like he would. Like he would even need to. Evidently, Joey didn’t understand the true scope of Lance’s prowess in bed. Chris was both satisfied and, almost, overdone. Instead of saying anything, he ate his breakfast in silence.
Afterward, as he headed to take a shower, JC caught him by the elbow and pressed the free dinner voucher into his palm. “Take him out and woo him,” JC said quietly, and Chris could practically feel the squeal leaking off him. Chris stared at the rectangular piece of cardboard then at JC, who nodded earnestly. “It’ll be less scary, if you make it normal.”
“I’m not scared,” Chris said because he felt it needed to be stated. This was the second time JC had mentioned it, and it just wasn’t true. Sure, Chris was freaking out, still, but it was because it was new and different and strange. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t a pussy.
It took Chris another five minutes until he was able to pry JC off his body. Dude was strong and clung like a leech, but he eventually noticed Chris smelled, badly, let him go. Chris promised he would take Lance out to dinner, even if it messed up the vibe of their relationship, which was based in the absurd.
Lance joined him the shower, and Chris was actually pretty calm about it. It was nicer this time, since he wasn’t clinging to the wall, claiming straightness. Chris was beginning to think it didn’t matter if he was gay, straight or whatever. He couldn’t remember feeling this alive in months, and that was a pleasant change in pace.
“Dude,” Chris said. Lance smiled at him. “Lift your chin, man.”
Lance did as asked, his head tipped back against the wall of the shower. Chris reached for the razor and the foam, squirting a puff on Lance’s face. Lance obviously knew what was coming, even pulled back a bit, but Chris said, “ah, ah, ah, Bass. Someone stole my horns, so I’m taking their scruff. You look better without it, anyway.”
“You noticed,” Lance said, and his Adam’s apple bobbed dangerously.
“I guess I did,” Chris admitted, and that was nice and normal, even if it really wasn’t. Chris should have known better than to put together a group comprised of jailbait, and him. He should have known one of them was going to be sexy, and it was all going to come back to haunt him. Suddenly, Chris was scared shitless of Lance’s mom.
Lance stayed very still as Chris shaved, and Chris kept his thigh shoved between Lance’s legs to keep him against the tile. Occasionally, he rocked against Lance, just to tease, and Lance moaned, all deep and porn-like. It didn’t take long, though Chris tried to stretch it out and make it last forever.
Eventually, the water ran cold. Chris barely even noticed.
~~~
“Dude. Lance,” Justin said later. Chris looked away from the Nintendo. Lance was napping by the window, curled up in a chair and drooling on his jeans. Lance might be hot when naked, but he had no stamina at all. Justin sat down next to him. “Lance Bass.”
“Shut up,” Chris muttered. “Don’t make fun of your elders.”
“Hey, not making fun of you. Just. puzzling aloud,” Justin said. “Because. Lance.”
Chris looked at Justin, hunting for signs of ridicule, but Justin looked honestly baffled. Chris sighed. Stupid Timberlake, was so fucking confused about sex and relationships and everything in between. Chris liked Britney, he did, but he didn’t think they were healthy together. The whole thing between them was even stranger than the thing between him and Lance.
“You do like blonds,” Justin said.
“Lance isn’t a natural blond,” Chris replied. “Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “He wants to be blond.”
“You want to be blond, fucknut,” Chris said and smacked him upside the head. It was another twist or two before Chris was pinned to the floor, huffing for breath. Chris remembered the good old days when Justin was a tiny little sprout and not this huge monster of muscle.
“You’re like. you know. with him?” Justin asked, later, once he’d gotten Chris a bag of ice for his knee, which Justin had nearly snapped in the tussle. Chris stared at him blankly. Justin waved his hand around. “You know. with him.”
“Where did we go wrong with you?” Chris asked, shaking his head. Justin tipped his head, puzzled, like a fucking lapdog. He was currently across Chris’s thighs, holding the ice pack to Chris’s knee. “Lance started jerking off from the peer pressure of it all, and you. Dude, I’m sorry, but your lack of sex drive is just freaky.”
“It’s called self control, jackass,” Justin replied, punching Chris’s shin, and Chris attempted to buck him off, but he was too big and heavy. “And saying fucking is so distasteful, and y’all make fun of me whenever I call it making love. So I’m saying you know. Now, tell me.”
“Kinda,” Chris said. “Not like,” Chris slipped his fingers into the ring his index finger and thumb made, “that, but more of a,” Chris made a lewd gesture to his crotch then opened his lips into an O and made the same motion there, “oral, handy thing.”
“Are you really into that?” Justin asked.
Chris twisted up his face. Fucking Timberlake, asking all these questions, knowing Chris couldn’t not talk about his own sex life. It was that stupid thirteen year old inner boy thing again. Chris just couldn’t leave the topic of his own dick alone. “I didn’t think I was, but Lance is. um. Well, Laura wasn’t lying about him being good.”
Justin looked over at Lance, who was still snoring. “But Lance.”
“I don’t know,” Chris finally admitted.
~~~
Quite suddenly, Chris realised he was maybe, sorta, kinda falling for Lance. Like, on a deeper level than just an appreciation of his sexual skills and his big old dick. And the whole friendship thing, which Chris thought went without saying, since they really all were great friends, and he did honestly love them all to death. Just with Lance, it was more.
Which meant something bigger than just sex, than just fun and discovery and experimentation. It meant something huge. Chris didn’t feel like this towards a lot of people. Hadn’t, at all, with Michelle, and had with Dani, but only after months of dating. Less than a week with Lance, and Chris was willing to consider changing everything he knew about himself. And yeah, maybe that was a bit terrifying.
Chris phoned up the only person who could assuage his worries. He called his mom.
“Where are you?” She asked, and he could hear Taylor in the background, yelping about Emily stealing the television converter. His sisters all possessed impressive sets of lungs, and Chris pitied his mom. Of course, he practically lived alongside Joey and Justin, both of whom were loud and annoying, too.
“I’m in Wisconsin. You know, that whole male bonding vacation JC wanted. Wisconsin,” Chris repeated. Of all places, he wanted to add. “Listen, mom. You’re hip and happening, right? I mean, nothing I can say to you is gonna, like, make you disown me or anything. Since you are, after all, the coolest mom in the whole world and I love you to pieces.”
“Chris,” his mom said, in that mom voice that told him to cut the shit.
“Mom, I’m having a mild sexual identity crisis,” Chris said.
Taylor was screaming again, and Emily was there, too, yelling. Chris held the phone away from his ear as his mom shouted at them both to be quiet and that if it was such a hardship to share the tv, for Emily to go upstairs and watch in her bedroom. “Sorry, honey,” she said.
Chris looked at his nails then bit at them. “It’s okay.”
“Chris, baby. You know I just want you to be happy, and if you’re happy with a man, then that’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s wonderful.” Taylor started up again, and his mom shouted, “that’s it. Taylor, up to your room this instant. Emily, don’t antagonise her. You’re more than twice her age. Act like it.”
Two voices screeched in the background, and Chris winced.
“What’s really bothering you, Chris?” She asked, once the shrieks quieted.
“I’m all baffled by this. I’m thirty – ”
“Honey, don’t remind me.”
“– a young thirty. But still. I got through college without ever, ah.” Chris was going to say sucking dick, but suddenly, that seemed like too much information. “Without ever feeling the need to broaden my horizons. And now I can’t stop.”
“And this is a problem, why?”
“Mom! Because.” Chris tried to keep his voice low, since Lance was across the hall, getting ready for the big date and free dinner, but come on. Wasn’t it obvious? Chris grappled at the words, trying to make his mom understand. “Because it just is.”
“Chris, sex feels good,” she said.
Chris eeped and though about poking out his own eardrums. “Mom, you have never, ever had sex, and please do not ever imply that you have to me ever again.”
“Honey, put the crack pipe away and try to stay serious for five minutes.”
“Mom,” Chris said, but she cut him off.
“I would rather you be happy with someone male than alone and miserable.” She paused, which was never a good sign. It meant she was thinking hard about things and was going to be brutally honest because she was just like that. He waited for it, gnawing at his thumbnail.
“You are a miserable little man, Christopher. I know this, because I have put up with you for thirty years. You have issues with commitment, I understand this, and I take responsibility for a lot of it. This is fine. You are getting better about it. But you also have a lot of gender issues, which I think I need to take some blame for, too. I don’t know who told you what a man was supposed to be, sweetie, but it wasn’t me. You need to let go of it.”
There was nothing more horrible in the world, Chris decided, than hearing your own mother tell you that you suck. Chris sniffed a bit, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Jesus, mom. Kick your son while he’s down, why don’t you,” Chris murmured. His eyes appeared to be leaking, so he wiped them on his sleeve, too.
“Christopher, you are my pride and joy, and I have been amazed of you since the minute you were born. I know this scares you. You learned to think on your own at such a young age, sweetie, that I sometimes wonder who taught you all of that. So I’m teaching you now,” she said. Chris’s eyes prickled again, and he nodded, listening. “I want you to love who you want to love.”
“I don’t want everything to change,” Chris whispered.
“It’s already changed, Chris. Honey, you know that. Now you just have to let it.”
Chris rubbed at his eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna bring him home for dinner, you know.”
“I know, sweetie. I’ll talk to the girls,” she said. “Which one is it? Don’t make me guess, Chris.”
Chris was going to answer, he was, since he didn’t lie to his mother and never had, except when she asked if he slept with Jenny Miller when he was fourteen. He had, of course, but he told his mom she hadn’t. She bought him condoms anyway and told him if he knocked up anyone under the age of twenty-five, she was going to disown him. Chris, through sheer luck, had managed to never father any babies. He sometimes wondered if he was infertile.
But Lance poked his head in the door and said, in a very loud and strong voice, “hey, I’m going to go warm up the car.” He paused and tipped his head. “Hey, are you crying? Are you okay? We can just stay in tonight, if you’re not up to it.”
“Jesus, Lance. Calm down. I’ll be out in a minute,” Chris said and waved him away. Lance gave him a suspicious look but turned around. Mm, Chris thought, but his ass looked nice in those pants. The fact his mom was tittering on the other end of the phone was the only reason he even remembered he was still supposed to be talking. “Mom, I gotta go.”
“Christopher Kirkpatrick.” Oh fuck, Chris thought. His mom sounded coy yet pleased, which meant she approved, and now he had to find his balls and let things happen. He didn’t want to devastate his mom. That was just mean. “Was that Lance Bass?”
“Um, yeah,” Chris said. “I really gotta go. We’re going to dinner.”
“Take care, honey, and don’t worry so much. You’re in good hands.”
And that, Chris thought, was the god honest truth.
~~~
Lance held the door for him. Chris didn’t think about until they were sitting down, but he’d opened Chris’s car door then again when going into the restaurant, a tiny little joint about fifteen minutes from the lodge. When he tried to pull out Chris’s chair, Chris socked him in the belly and told him to, “cut it out, dickwad.”
“Who were you talking to?” Lance asked, in that awkward space between ordering and actually getting the food, when Chris and Lance were both keenly aware that this sort of behaviour constituted a date of sorts. Chris still wanted to pin it on the free dinner voucher, which the waitress had looked at for a long, long time.
“My mom,” Chris said and switched around his spoon and fork.
When Chris looked up, Lance was frowning. “Why?”
“She doesn’t put up with my shit,” Chris said and shrugged. He moved the fork and spoon back then unfolded his napkin, laying it over his lap. Underneath the tablecloth, his knee was jumping, and he folded his palm over it. “She said you can come over for dinner.”
Lance lifted his eyebrows. “Oh.”
“You know, in case things go in that direction. They might not, but if they do,” Chris said and bit his lip. This was a lot harder to talk about than he wished it was. He wanted it to be simple and easy and perfect, but without the air of craziness clinging to it, the situation was just bluntly real. “Christ, Lance. I don’t know. I thought she’d tell me what to do.”
“How’d me and Justin get to be the mama’s boys of the group again?” Lance asked, and Chris knew he was teasing, so he smiled and nodded. Lance laughed, flashing his brilliant white teeth. Chris remembered Lance being the only one who had calmed him down when Lou broke the news about braces, since Lance had braces for four years and said, after a while, he wouldn’t even notice them. Plus, they kind of felt cool while kissing. Chris regretted, now, that they hadn’t kissed when he had his braces. It might have been cool.
“I should talk to my mom,” Lance said, almost to himself.
Chris sipped at his water, poking the ice around with his tongue. “Diane isn’t going to kill me or anything distasteful like that, is she?”
“Nah. Probably not. We had a talk when I was twelve about liking people. I got what she was saying, even if she was wrong. Man. You ditch volleyball for show choir and suddenly the whole world thinks you’re gay. I just sucked at volleyball,” Lance said, and grinned.
“Twelve. Jesus. She think you were boinking guys or something?”
“Well, see, my pastor was all, hellfire and brimstone about Johnny Pfeiffer, the gay hairdresser in town, and was warning the moms about his influence on the sons, since he cut everyone’s hair, though not mine,” Lance said and gestured to his head. Chris nodded. Lance’s bowl cut from many years back was so obviously not endorsed by a hairstylist. “My mom said he was full of shit in the car and that her best friend from college was gay and he was a perfectly upstanding citizen. I worshipped Reverend Andrews.”
“Hence, the not jerking off thing,” Chris said. He understood.
“Right. So my mom was, like, worried I was confused or something, but really, the gay thing was news to me because it’d never crossed my mind. Girls had, though.” Lance hummed to himself, and looked like he was reliving every moment of his adolescence. Chris felt irrationally jealous.
“You look really good tonight,” Chris blurted out.
Lance ducked his head and nodded. “Thanks. You, too.”
Chris felt accomplished, like he’d reclaimed his territory and the world was all right again.
~~~
Lance held the door on the way out again, and Chris let him, but when he tried to open the car door for Chris, Chris stepped on his toes. “Bass, cut it the fuck out, all right? I’m not a chick. I won’t be mortally offended if you don’t treat me like one.”
“Sorry, sorry. It’s hard to stop doing it. I’ll try,” Lance said, but he opened Chris’s door anyway but had the good grace to smack himself on the forehead. “Sorry.”
They pulled up to the cabin shortly after ten then sat in the car, smoking pot. It was going to stink up the upholstery, but they still had a few days and JC, who went through periods of time where he burned incense twenty-four-seven, knew how to get smells out of fabric.
“So this is the normal road,” Chris said, after the windows fogged up. He felt light-headed and dizzy, pleasant really, and his eyes had stopped burning hours ago.
“Smoking up in a rented Yukon is normal?” Lance asked. He was squinting.
“Well, we’re doing it together, and I haven’t yet tried to get into your pants. And I listened to you talk and now know more about you than I did at eight, when we went for dinner. And you know I cried on the phone with my mom, which, I swear, you tell anyone about, I will kill you,” Chris added. Lance nodded and offered him the joint. Chris took it.
“This is us avoiding going inside and having to face them, right?” Lance asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Chris inhaled sharply and felt delightfully languid. His lips tingled, and he licked at them. Lance’s fingers tangled with his for a second, stealing the weed back. “JC’s all, welcome to the brotherhood, and Joey’s actually cool about it, since I’m not fucking you over, and Justin’s still on his, ew, sex, ew, Lance kick.”
“That’s the power of Britney, for you. Right there. That whole thing with them is weird,” Lance said, leaning his head back on the rest. The radio was playing power ballads, the sound so low Chris could barely hear it. “Though, I’m mildly offended. Thousands of preteen girls and gay boys want to marry me. And all those leather boys, who want to do something.”
“You’re just too damn hot, Bass,” Chris said.
“It hurts to be me.”
“It must,” Chris agreed.
~~
“Do you think, if your skates fall out of that tree and kill someone, that you’ll be convicted of manslaughter?” Chris asked. Lance looked at him, horrified. They were both stoned and stupid, and Chris squinted at Lance. It looked like his eyes were glazing over. “Jesus, dude. I mean, it won’t happen. I promise.”
“We have to go get them,” Lance said slowly and reached in his pocket for his hat.
The snow was crunchy and loud as they trudged through it. They held hands, because Lance was scared he was going to get lost. Chris didn’t bother to point out it was him, not Lance, with the shitty sense of direction. Chris felt like he was floating.
“They’re still up there,” Chris announced. The blades glistened like slivers of heaven haloed by evergreen pine needles. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to get them down, and I ain’t climbing up to get them.”
“Please,” Lance said and batted his pretty eyelashes.
“No fucking way, Bass. What I’m going to do is ram my fat ass into the tree and try to jiggle them down. What you’re going to do is catch the skates before they split my head open and I die a stupid death, okay?” It wasn’t a very good plan, but Chris was stoned, so it sounded brilliant.
Chris’s life flashed before his eyes when the skates came at him, and he shrieked in terror, but Lance grabbed them. Falling to his knees in the snow, Chris panted and thought about praying. Drugs were bad, he decided. He was going to go dig out his box of Stinky Winks and remind himself of that fact, the next time he forgot.
~~~
They were still drugged up when they returned the cabin. Joey and Justin were passed out on the couch, and JC was lying across the kitchen counters, his feet in the sink. Chris stared at him a long, long time before shaking his head. Whatever, really. Lance left the skates by the door. Tomorrow, they were going to burn them and pollute the environment, as if the Yukon wasn’t doing a good enough job.
They walked like zombies into Lance’s room and Chris fell in the bed. The walls were blurry and uneven, and he closed his eyes. His nose was so cold he thought it was going to fall off. Lance mouth closed over it and warmed it right up. Chris smiled.
Chris’s clothes just kind of slithered right off him, though he thought maybe Lance had somehow pulled them off. Whatever it was, Chris was naked and smiling and happy. He rubbed at his own cock, just to feel it plump up. He always liked that, feeling the weight settle as his dick got heavier, hung lower. It was just nice and made him feel good.
“Mm, come on, kiss me,” Chris murmured. He felt so naked that he needed Lance over him, like a tee-shirt, and Lance slid against him, warm and weighty. Chris felt obliged to say, “I had a really great time tonight,” even though it was clichéd. Lance liked it though.
“Thanks,” he said and kissed over Chris’s jaw. “Me too.”
They fucked quite accidentally. Or rather, it felt accidental, even though Chris made them stop so he could get a condom on Lance’s thick cock then again as they hunted for something lube-like. But it felt like it just happened, without worry or anything, like it was natural and normal. It’s like Lance’s kisses erased the memories of all that boring stuff and just made it perfect.
Chris remembered the slow, deep kisses that came before it, and Lance’s hand on his cock, making him wiggle impatiently and thrust against his palm. Then all the non-sexy stuff, and then Lance over him, saying, “is this okay? Tell me if it hurts. God, you’re beautiful.” That last part made Chris shiver and arch, hand curled over Lance’s shoulder.
Chris remembered the sounds that escaped, the, “oh, oh, oh,” when Lance was finally, finally in, deep and big, and Chris couldn’t explain how full he felt other than, “oh.” He clung to Lance, afraid Lance would leave him and try to stop it, since they’d talked about not being ready just the day before, yet somehow seemed ready now, stoned and happy. Chris hoped it wasn’t the drugs. He was pretty sure they had nothing to do with it, at this point. They’d kissed for a long, long time beforehand.
Chris remembered looking into Lance’s eyes when he came, how they flickered and shut, and his pink tongue snaked out and dipped to lick at Chris’s lips. Between their bodies, Lance’s hand slid and jerked him off. Chris came quickly, pushing his hips at Lance, trying to keep him close. Lance folded over him, and held him so near that Chris forgot he had skin of his own and just used Lance’s. He slept pinned to Lance’s chest, listening to his heart patter away.
~~~
Lance peed at six am exactly. Chris moaned at him, because it meant he got spilled on his back, but Lance was quick about it and came hopping back. Chris snuffled into his ear, and kissed him softly, and went back to sleep.
Chris felt intensely romantic when he woke again. Like he woke up in love. He didn’t even have a smart-assed inner monologue comment for that, either. He just thought to himself, wow, Lance is a great guy, then, and he’s mine. Then he giggled, and that got a snarky comment or six, but the thought before. It was just what he needed in his life.
Lance was out cold, the deep sort of snore which meant he was down for another hour, at least. Chris slipped his boxers on and decided to make breakfast, which would then be served to Lance in bed, if it all went according to Chris’s ingenious plan. It was much better than the save-skates-from-tree plan of the previous night.
JC was up and reading at the table, but Justin and Joey were still sleeping on the couch. JC looked up and smiled, and Chris grinned at him, mussing his hair as he passed. JC preened under his hand, shining brightly. JC really was a lot happier now, even if that meant he was a lot weirder, too. Chris was happy for him.
“You’re glowing,” JC said. Chris blushed hot red, right down to his arms. “No, no. Don’t be shy, man. Embrace it. It’s good, right?” JC crooked his head, waiting for confirmation, and Chris nodded. “See, it’s not so different, just different parts.”
“It was. Wow,” Chris said. He knew his eyes were wide.
“I know, man.” JC grinned and stepped aside so Chris could get at the carton of eggs. JC had made himself French Toast, and Chris decided to follow in his footsteps. Lance was a big French Toast fiend. JC leaned over his shoulder. “You want me to help?”
Chris smiled. “Sure.”
~~~
Lance was kind of funny when he was waking up slowly. Chris hadn’t seen it much, these past few days, since he’d been scaring him awake, but the lingering consciousness, it was amusing to Chris. Lance tended to blink a lot, like he didn’t know where he was, then he always checked his mouth for drool and lifted the covers to examine his cock. Chris wondered if he thought it had left during the night or something.
“Hi,” Chris said. He had a tray with food on it, and suddenly didn’t want to give it to Lance. Maybe it was just sex, and maybe Chris was going overboard. Dani said that a lot, that he did too much, too fast, like he was always running through life. They’d slept together on the first date. He’d meant to put a bit of romance in before but had just gotten caught up in it all.
Lance sat up and lifted his eyebrows. “Is that for me?”
“Yes. JC helped,” Chris added, as if that somehow made it a group activity and that was better. “But I did most of it.” Which implied exactly what Chris didn’t want implied. He bit his tongue, and just nodded, offering the tray. Lance helped him unfold the legs and settle it over his lap.
“You want to share?” Lance asked. Chris slid into bed next to him.
Chris took a strawberry and bit at it. JC had wanted to carve them into hearts, but Chris had threatened to kick his skinny ass if he tried. Regardless, he nibbled it into the forbidden shape and offered it to Lance. Lance laughed.
“You’re wooing me,” Lance said and reached over to squeeze Chris’s thigh.
“Is that okay?”
“It’s fine,” Lance said and kissed him.
~~~
Joey caught up with Chris when Chris decided he would take a walk while Lance went to bond with JC and Justin over a tour of historic sites in the area. Chris hated being stuck on a bus with people he didn’t know. It made him feel like a rabid dog, locked in a wire-mesh cage.
“Oh, Christ,” Chris said when he realised Joey was following him. Wracking his brain, he was sure he hadn’t done anything to wrong Lance. In fact, Chris believed he’d done everything right. “Listen, Joey. No lectures, okay? I’m fucking happy, man. You get to say nothing.”
“Nah, I’m over that. Lance is a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Joey said and shrugged. Chris eyed his suspiciously. Joey grinned. “No, I just wanted. To talk. things.” Joey fumbled, waving hand around. “Sex things. I’m wondering.”
“That, Joe, is why I love you,” Chris said. Joey had the same of thing about hearing about everybody else’s sex life. Sometimes, he was the only one willing to talk to Chris about anything, and Chris was intensely relieved he was okay with queer sex, too. Chris had wondered.
“Do you swallow?”
Chris nodded. “Fuck, yeah. It was gross as shit the first few times, but damn it, man. You know how when chicks pull off and you’re left feeling like an asshole for even having a dick and wanting someone’s mouth on it? I didn’t want to do that to Lance. You get used to it.”
Joey nodded. Chris figured Joey would understand. He was the oral sex king, after all.
“You any good at it?”
“Getting better,” Chris said and laughed. “Lance is, as we all know, big. It kills my jaw.”
“Yeah. It does, sometimes,” Joey said.
Chris looked at him, grinning. “What the fuck, Joe?”
“Hey, man. I’m a big old drama geek. You think I’ve never put a dick in my mouth?” Joey was talking a mean game, but his face was bright red and Chris suspected it wasn’t from the cold, not the way his eyes were darting around. “It’s been years. Not since high school, and it was, like, twice.”
Chris eyed Joey in a new light. He was a bit mad the fucker hadn’t thought to mention anything about it, even when Chris was freaking out, but Joey was intensely private, especially about secrets, and he kept them well. “Well, that’s cool. Didn’t figure you for it, but I’m obviously a moron, so whatever.”
“I’m glad you got your shit worked out, man,” Joey said.
“Me too,” Chris said.
~~~
Joey suggested a round of one-on-one hockey, which meant they were less concerned with the puck than they were with body-checking each other against the sides. Joey was big, but Chris was quick, so it was pretty painful for both of them but fun, too. It also gave Chris a chance to speak French, which never came up in the real world.
“Are you insulting me?” Joey demanded to know every time Chris said something, but Chris just smiled to himself. He was mostly calling Joey, “la grande chaise” and “la petite maison,” which was nothing, really, nothing harmful, but it infuriated Joey to no end. They stopped playing when Chris got a bloody nose from smacking it on Joey’s face.
Lance and Justin came back after dinner. Chris was still tending to his swollen nose, pressing a baggie of ice to the bridge, and Lance rolled his eyes at him. Chris tried to look even more pathetic, garnering sympathy, and he knew he won when Lance sat behind him and massaged his scalp with his talented fingers.
“Where’s C?” Joey asked.
“He picked up the tour guide,” Justin said. “You should have seen him, man. You know how he gets that strut going?” Justin slinked across the floor, his hips swaying ever so slightly. Chris nodded. He knew it well. “He was doing that. Then we stopped at this art museum for, like, local artists. JC swaggers up to this painting of this naked guy, and is fawning over it. Turns out the tour guide painted it. When JC did the hair flip,” they all threw back their heads in unison and flicked their fingers through their imaginary locks, though Justin did it best, “combined with the grin,” everyone split their face in two with their biggest squished-eyes smile, “we knew it was all over.”
“JC’s gonna get laid,” Joey sing-songed. “About fucking time.”
Justin plopped down in the chair. “I swear, when we’re not all out here, listening to you guys getting freaky,” he gestured at Lance and Chris, and Chris snapped his teeth at Justin’s fingers, “we’re listening to JC. He brought Mark.”
Mark – named after a Calvin Klein underwear model whose picture JC had cut out sometime back in ‘94, the very same image that had outed JC to rest of them when Joey found him jerking off to it on the tour bus in late ‘97 – was a very big, very realistic dildo that they all had horror stories about. Once, Lance slipped on him and twisted his ankle.
“You get the guy’s name and number?” Chris asked. Lance held up a piece of paper. David Greene. Chris nodded. “Good. Good for him. Hopefully, JC’ll come back sated and content, and Mark will go into hibernation for a while.”
“I found him in the shower this morning,” Joey admitted. “I thought he was my scrub brush.”
~~~
Lance hung back, talking to Joey, when Chris got up to go to bed, his eyes drifting shut. He wanted to get laid, but he was exhausted. Plus, his nose hurt. What good was Lance if he couldn’t take the hint that Chris wanted to do it again and right this minute, to boot.
Chris undressed slowly then paused, staring at the mirror. He tipped his head. So logically Chris realised he wasn’t supposed to look any different. He remembered doing this after the Jenny Miller incident, wondering how his mom had known because he looked exactly the same, even though he suddenly felt like a man and that was mammoth since he wasn’t going to look like a man for another four years.
Chris pushed his jeans down until his cock flopped out, small inside its skin. “You are such a confusing organ,” Chris told it, poking at it. It moved a bit, grew a bit fatter, but other than that, gave no response at all. “I also can’t believe I just talked to you. Jesus.”
Turning in front of the mirror, Chris examined his profile, his jeans pushed down to just below his ass. Turning around and bending over, he touched his toes and peered through his legs. And that was his ass, hidden, small, yet suddenly, such a huge part of his life. Chris stood up and twisted back to his reflection.
Chris slid his jeans all the way off then stood, legs spread, and stared some more. He cupped his nuts, sliding his dick out of the way with his other hand, and felt them, concentrating on the weight and the heat of them. They were sensitive and didn’t like this very much, so he let them drop, hanging there. They probably were useless. Chris decided he was going to get himself checked out. With all the sex he’d had over the years, all the unprotected stupid sex, it didn’t seem normal that he didn’t have fourteen children running around. His sperm were probably still terrified of his mother.
Chris sat down on the edge of the bed and spread his legs. It wasn’t comfortable, but if he lifted his knees and leaned back a bit, he could still see his reflection. He reached back for the lube and decided, right then and there, he needed to know more. He slicked up his fingers.
When Lance did it, it felt good. When Chris did it, it just felt weird. The angle was wrong, or something, because it stung and wasn’t sexy, and he practically had to force the first finger in. Inside, it was dry and hot and soft, and he poked around, despite the discomfort, because he needed to know for himself.
“What are you doing?” Lance asked, standing in the doorway.
“I have no idea. It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Chris said, staring at the ceiling instead of the mirror. It looked too weird, and it felt too weird, so he didn’t want to connect with it on more than an intellectual level. His own finger was in his own ass. The end.
Lance tugged his hand away from his body then wiped it clean with his shirt. Chris sighed as Lance undressed. Lance leaned over him, grinning, his palm flat on Chris’s belly. “You know, Chris, I don’t have any issues with you playing around with me. You just needed to ask. I’m equally curious.”
Chris lifted his arm so Lance could slide against him, solid and heavy in his embrace. “It’s not even that. Well, it is, and we’re gonna do that later, but right now, it’s more. Well, okay. You ever think about your dick and all that it means?”
“Not as much as you, evidently, but some. It’s an important part of me,” Lance said, wiggling to get comfortable. Chris flipped them over. Lance slept better on his back, he knew. “Though, like, it’s been a big source of grief, too. There’s nothing like the girly boy getting the endowment fairy’s blessing, and the bigger, meaner guys getting bypassed.”
“Like me,” Chris said. He couldn’t keep the grin out of his voice.
Lance laughed. “No, not quite like you. They wanted to kick my ass. You just want my ass.”
“Funny, Bass, funny. Jerk,” Chris added fondly. He liked how Lance jiggled when he laughed, the sound travelling through his body like a tangible rumble. “My nose hurts, man, or I’d be all over you and your ass.” Chris settled and closed his eyes. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Lance agreed.
~~~
When Lance woke up at six, Chris invited himself along, dragging his ass out of the warm, comfortable bed. Lance peed with closed eyes then Chris took his turn, lolling his head against the wall for support. So fucking early. It didn’t help Lance knew exactly what he was after and was laughing at him. Chris made Lance carry him back to the room on his back.
The sun was shining through the big window, fanning like a snowflake onto the bed, and Lance put himself right into the middle of it, eyes still dancing with mirth. He ducked his head, and Chris couldn’t help but press his lips along the line of hair across the back of his neck. Chris’s hand rubbed at the small of Lance’s back as he brushed the soft skin with his mouth. Lance shivered.
Lance’s body spread into a star on the bed, open and relaxed, and he laughed, a bit, when Chris poked around with his fingers, curious. Hitched a breath more than once, and lifted up his hips. Chris nibbled on them, laughing, as Lance squirmed. Chris also examined his cock, tracing the big vein on the underside with his finger then circling Lance’s dick.
“C worked his voodoo on me,” Chris said, “I think I’m a size queen.”
“If it wasn’t attached to me, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
Chris liked how Lance cut to the shit right away, didn’t give him any leeway. Chris nodded, because, yeah, all right. If Chris had to choose, he’d go with a smaller model, but it was Lance, and not a random cock, that interested him. Chris could feel another bout of insecurity creeping up, so he swallowed it quickly.
Chris was determined to make Lance scream or, at the very least, show signs of not being a corpse. But he didn’t make a sound, though he arched his back and spreads his legs and grappled helplessly at the covers. So a moving corpse, and Chris could deal with that, especially with all the breathy, “ah, ah, ah,” pants Lance was giving him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Chris said, and he knew he was saying it loud, but it felt fucking awesome. Joey and JC both loved anal sex, though on completely different ends, and Chris had always gone along with it, agreeing because he was a hip and happening young dude, too, and of course he liked it. He didn’t, not giving it. He’d tried it only a few times in his life, and every time the women had looked kind of pained and like they were doing it for him and not themselves. He’d fizzled out midway through, soft and useless. This was different.
Lance kept squeezing Chris’s sides with his knees, and offering the stubbly line of his neck for Chris to suck. He groaned, and shook, and thumped Chris hard on the back with his heel, keening low in his throat. Chris kept saying, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” really, really loudly.
He wanted the whole world to know that Lance made him scream.
~~~
Justin and Joey were sour when Chris finally untangled himself from Lance – he found he felt the incredible urge to curl up around Lance and make Lance hold him as tightly as was comfortable after new things – and walked into the kitchen. Justin was shovelling in the cereal, snarling, and Joey just looked tired.
“Six am, Chris. Six in the morning,” Joey said, shaking his head.
“I guess apologies would be pretty useless right about now, huh?” Chris asked and reached for the box of Fruit Loops. He didn’t bothered with milk, just poured them dry into the bowl and started eating. Justin growled. “Then I’m not gonna say it.”
“We’re moving C to your side. Before J and I start humping each other,” Joey said. Justin snorted milk through his nose, and Chris knew Joey wasn’t really mad, just wanted a set up for a good joke. It looked like it worked. Justin was hot red and gagging on mushy Apple Jacks. “Fuck, Curly. Relax.”
“All y’all are just mean,” Justin muttered. He was wiping his hands on his pants, covered in ground-up cereal. Chris started feeling nauseous. For all the self-help books the kid, would it have killed him to read one on table manners? “Was Lance even in there with you?”
“He’s quiet,” Chris said.
Joey chuckled, shaking his head, and Justin went back to his cereal. A moment later, Lance sauntered into the room, picking up the milk and pouring some into Chris’s bowl then into his own, adding cereal afterward. Lance had crazy methods when it came to breakfast foods.
“Morning,” Lance said brightly. Chris puckered his lips for a kiss, and Lance delivered, grinning. Justin gagged, a finger down his throat, so Joey grabbed him by the cheeks and gave him a big, wet smack. Lance chuckled. “See, it’s contagious, J. Better watch out.”
Justin was too busy wiping his lips on his pants to answer.
~~~
They lounged for the day, staring out the window every fifteen minutes with the intention of actually going out into it, but it’d snowed overnight, so there was even more of the white stuff to deal with and none of them wanted to deal with it. The snow was very quickly losing its allure. Way too fucking cold.
They took turns smoking on Lance’s patio, though Chris refused to step more than a foot out. It was a long drop, deep enough to kill a person, and snow automatically meant slippery to him. He was not going to put himself in a dangerous situation, again, just because he couldn’t say no to peer pressure and let the weed pass him by.
JC swaggered home at approximately seven past noon. He looked dazed but happy, and he waved at them all before sprawling on the couch, boneless and smiling. Chris poked at him until he lifted his head and gave them a weak thumbs up. Chris ruffled his hair.
“You look like you achieved nirvana,” Joey said, lying across the coffee table as Lance lay under it, napping. Chris was stroking him with his socked toe, gently, as not to wake him. “Well worth the wait?”
“He’s coming over tonight,” JC said. “Is that okay?”
“Just make sure he signs the papers,” Chris reminded him. JC nodded then swooned again, curling up against Chris and sighing. Chris petted him, his fingers feeling like they were buzzing and electric. Chris also thought maybe he needed a nap or, at the very least, another round with Lance. His mouth was just watering.
“So good,” JC said and arched, stretching his body. “That boy, his mouth.”
“We’re gonna talk about sex again, aren’t we?” Justin asked. Chris looked at him, draped over the ottoman, a hand idly circling his belly through his sweater. Nodding, Chris smirked. Justin exhaled pitifully. “Oh, man. You guys are so fucking cruel to me.”
“Sex?” Lance asked from the floor. He sounded confused.
“You all are stoned!” JC sat up, waving his fingers, and Chris reached over to get him a joint. Lance looked like he was back asleep, and Justin looked equally useless. Joey was awake, but he looked far away if not happy. “You and me, man. Come on.”
Chris sat against the wall as JC looked over the balcony. “Wow,” he said, “a fall like that could kill you.” Chris inched closer to the door, and JC laughed, sliding down next to him. “I’m just kidding. I don’t think it would. There’s snow to cushion your fall.”
“You aren’t helping,” Chris said as he lit the joint. JC took it first. He was still shivering, like he couldn’t get the imprint of pleasure off him. Chris smiled to himself. JC really didn’t get laid enough. “That good, huh?”
“I love sleeping with artists. They just get the beauty of the act,” JC replied, closing his eyes. Chris wondered if JC considered himself an artist, and Chris realised it didn’t matter. They considered JC an artist, so it applied. JC just made things beautiful.
~~~
When they came back in, Lance had rolled out from under the table but was still on the floor, a mountain of pillows under his head. Joey was snoring, head hanging over the side of the table and mouth wide open. JC slid into the chair with Justin, two slips of boys fitting in a spot so small Chris wasn’t sure he could even get one ass cheek into it.
Chris sat down on Lance, and Lance sucker-punched him in the belly before tugging him down, snaking a thigh between Chris’s legs. Chris dozed, the world spinning, and when he was sort of awake, kissed Lance wherever he could, his mouth, his neck, his fingers.
David showed up at five. His hair was big and curly, and he was thinner than JC, the stick that walked like a man. Chris eyed him, and he eyed Chris back. Chris decided he liked this anorexic artist guy, since he had balls and made JC swoon. After quick introductions, JC tugged him off into his room.
Joey and Justin got themselves together enough to get a cab and go to town to see a movie. Straight guys, only. Chris stared at them then down at Lance, whose forehead was wrinkled with thought. Chris still considered himself straight, after everything. And he was, mostly. Wasn’t he? Lance was the exception, not the rule.
“Straight guys who aren’t boinking other straight guys,” Joey said.
Chris nodded. Of course that’s what he meant. Right.
~~~
They accidentally got pretty naked on the floor at some point in the evening. Chris was feeling clingy and confused, and he thought about phoning his mom again, since she was so much smarter than he was about everything. But instead, he poked at Lance, rubbing his belly and palming the insides of his thighs. Somehow, their clothes came off, and Chris’s mouth found its way to Lance’s dick.
“We could have been caught,” Chris said afterward, sliding on his boxers. Lance lifted his eyebrows, like he didn’t understand the statement. In the other room, Chris could hear JC and David fucking. JC was really loud. “Caught in the act. Exposed, you know, seen.”
“I don’t understand you,” Lance said. “Chris, I’m not straight. I’m obviously not straight, not if I’m doing this with you. I thought you were --” Lance waved his hand through the air, sitting cross-legged and naked. “I thought you were just being you.”
“You’re gay?”
Lance rolled his eyes. “No, Chris. But I’m not straight. Maybe you’ll be the only guy I ever hook up with, maybe I’ll never want to do it again, but I do with you, and that’s what counts. Chris. Look at me.” Chris looked up, not even realising that he’d dropped his eyes. “I thought you worked this out.”
“I did. It’s worked out. I just don’t see why I have to call myself anything but straight,” Chris said. It sounded stupid, even before he said it, and having it out there, it was even more absurd. He had just given Lance head ten minutes ago and liked it. So goddamn stupid. Chris stared at his own hands. “I don’t want to be labelled.”
“You’re infuriating, Chris,” Lance said, like he didn’t know that going in. Chris thought he shouldn’t sound so surprised. Chris had pretty much been born a pain in the ass, and he wasn’t going to change his ways just to suit Lance. “Fine. You’re straight; I’m not. We live happily ever after. End of story.”
“You don’t have to be such a fucking bitch about it,” Chris said, but his voice lacked venom. Lance sighed, his forehead wrinkling, and Chris crawled over and laid his head down on Lance’s shoulder, hands on Lance’s waist. “I’m sorry,” Chris said.
Lance rubbed down his back and said, “it’s okay.”
~~~
They were kissing in the kitchen when David and JC came in, hungry like lions. Chris stopped, since he still didn’t know David for shit, but Lance tapped his jaw until he turned back. Lance really, really kissed well, so Chris tried to ignore JC’s tour guide.
“Guy, can we get at the cookies? You’re blocking them,” JC said and tried to dance around them, desperate for Oreos. JC always liked cookies after any sort of sex, or cheesecake, but JC thought that was too fattening and unhealthy to be a suitable option all the time.
Lance tugged him across the kitchen and smiled into his mouth. Chris held him off, again, but only because they’d come into the kitchen for cookies, and JC was going to eat them all if he didn’t get at them soon. Lance only had the foresight to order one package.
“Share, man,” Chris said, Lance’s hands still hooked around his hips, and he grabbed for the package. JC grinned, snatching it away. David just stood there, waiting for food. Chris growled. “Chasez, don’t make me get medieval on your ass.”
“No,” JC said and offered the package to David, who took five.
“Lance, cookies,” Chris said. Lance smirked at him, shaking his head, so Chris glared harder. Lance knew JC always gave him everything he asked for, since they had a weird mind-meld thing going on and had, ever since Lance showed up and JC swore on his dead dog’s grave that Lance was exactly the guy they were looking for. “Jesus. I’m hungry.”
“If you were polite,” JC started. Lance sighed and grabbed the bag right out of JC’s fingers, shoving them into Chris’s arms. Chris smirked at JC, his mission in the kitchen completed, and sat down at the table.
“So you’re an artist,” Chris said to David. He didn’t always know how to respond to these sexual conquests of JC’s. Sometimes, they never saw the guy again, and sometimes, he hung around until he left due to the pressure of the life.
“And a tour guide, since it doesn’t pay the bills, and quite frankly, I think all my naked men freak these yuppies out. No offense,” David added as almost an afterthought. Chris liked people who insulted others without trying. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. It required bluntness and a complete lack of shame.
“Well, naked men certainly don’t freak me out,” Chris said, and at Lance’s twisted mouth, added, “much.”
~~~
They watched a movie that was completely in French. Chris knew he was the only one who understood it without the subtitles, so he took the opportunity to look at Lance. Lance, his manly sexy dude, who was potentially a boyfriend though they hadn’t talked about it yet and Chris, knowing himself, was sure they would. They would have to, really. Lance knew Chris was skittish. Plus, Chris was still lousy at relationships. That, despite everything, would never change.
David and JC got up to get chips at the end of it, and Lance was still enough that Chris knew he’d fallen asleep before the credits rolled. Lance hated subtitled films. Chris slid out of his arms, suddenly thirsty. His mouth still tasted like ass from the pot and Lance’s dick, which didn’t really taste like ass but also didn’t leave a fabulous aftertaste, either.
Chris walked across the cold tile on the tips of his toes. It was like crossing ice barefoot. He peeked around the fridge, in case David and JC were doing naked gay stuff, but they were just talking. Straining, Chris struggled to hear.
“You know that never works,” David was saying. Chris knew they were talking about him, or Lance, or him and Lance. They wouldn’t be whispering otherwise. Knowing JC, Chris would hear it all repeated later, since he couldn’t keep his big fat mouth shut about anything. They were like a group of teenaged girls the way they gossiped about one another.
“It will here,” JC said. Chris could see him reach up into the cupboards to get a few mugs. JC was making hot chocolate, how thoughtful. Not so thoughtful was talking about Chris, Lance or Chris and Lance to his new boytoy. “We aren’t like normal people, David.”
“I had friends, you know, who thought it wouldn’t matter. It did. The first time one of them gets called a fag, it’s going to matter,” David whispered. He kept his hand on JC’s back, standing behind him as JC moved the spoon around the pot of heated milk.
“We get called fags all the time,” JC replied, stirring the milk. Chris nodded to himself, that was true. They got called a lot of things, really, sometimes to their face. Chris could count the number of times on two hands that he’d almost ended up getting into a fight at an awards show. Once, he’d actually punched one of the guys from Limp Bizkit.
“Next time, it’ll be true.”
“They’ll be fine,” JC repeated. “It won’t matter. They’re happy.”
“It doesn’t work, not in the real world.”
“But this isn’t the real world,” JC said. He sounded like he believed it.
~~~
So JC was a psycho. Chris was fine with that, really. It confirmed just about everything he always suspected, so really, all was well that ended well. JC was insane. That was just a-okay. It gave them the extra edge of madness over Backstreet, who could claim a lot but not a legitimate looney. Chris was fine with that. JC would bring in a whole new crowd.
Chris did a few shots of whiskey and pulled on his boots. JC was saying his name, but he didn’t really want to hear it. Chris needed air, quickly, desperately. His fingers were itching for his stick, and he found it in the back of the Yukon, the puck sitting at its side. He grabbed them both then found his skates sitting in the backseat. He didn’t know why they were there, but he wasn’t going to question it.
“Fucking fuck fuck,” Chris gritted under his breath as he took shots on the empty goal. He’d dragged the stupid net out himself, since it was one in the morning and no sane people seemed to be hanging around. It was cold, and snowing, and Chris didn’t care. “Fuck.”
He didn’t want to be gay. He didn’t want people to look at him like he was more a freak than he was. Sure, he was funny looking, and his voice was pitched way too high, especially for a short, bow-legged, overly hairy guy, and his sense of humour always didn’t make much sense. But those were all legitimate. And it was such a small thing. Tiny, really. In this day and age, Chris thought, it shouldn’t even matter. Happiness, Chris decided, was more important. Chris knew this because he was unhappy.
“Fucking Lance fucking fucker fuck Lance,” Chris said and shot the puck again, missing the goal completely. He skated around, slapping his stick on the ice. Sometimes, he entertained the idea of being a hockey player. He was way too small, but if people seriously put up with Justin’s delusion of being a baller, they should put up with his delusions of being a hockey player.
And why didn’t Lance ask him out already? Make it official. Say something like, hey, I really do like you more than your bodacious body. Lance’s snide comment about happy endings was bullshit. There couldn’t be a happy ending without a happy beginning, and sexual experimentation didn’t count. “Fucking fuck fuck Lance fucking fucker.”
And that was the dumbest thing, too. Maybe Chris couldn’t expect shit like that because it was a straight thing. Ask a girl out, get to know her, make her your girl, fuck, fall in love. Commit, too, somewhere in there, and buy her stuff, and treat her good. Then break up, because Chris was a fucking lousy boyfriend, and nothing ever worked out for him.
“Fuck!” Chris shouted, smacking his stick against the goal. The net slid back, and he pushed at it, angry as hell. Of all the goddamn turns in his life, this is the one he expected the least. This sudden twist of sexuality. He was thirty fucking years old. He was too old for shit like this to blind-side him. “Fuck!”
Chris sat down on the ice and put his head in his hands.
~~~
“You’re going to freeze to death,” Joey said, standing over him like some harbinger of death. Chris opened his eyes, flat on his back, the cold seeping into his skin. It was still snowing. It was almost beautiful, if Chris wasn’t so miserable. The flakes were big and puffy and glowed in the sparkling reflection of the moon.
“Wisconsin is a lovely state,” Chris said.
“It’s cold,” Joey said and crouched down, hooking his arms under Chris’s armpits. Joey was strong, so Chris found himself righted quickly. His knees buckled immediately, though. He wanted to lie back down. He was tired. “Jesus, man. You been drinking?”
“Yes,” Chris said and breathed in his face.
“Cock breath,” Joey said. “Lance is worried sick, you know.”
Chris patted around for Joey’s cell phone, since he always carried it in case Brianna started spouting Shakespeare or learned long division while he was gone. Lance’s number was second on the list, since Lance knew useless shit about babies and had saved Joey’s ass more than once. Lance would make a very good father someday.
“I’m fine,” Chris said when Lance picked up, then he pressed end handing it back to Joey. Joey’s face was red as hell. He was angry. Chris moved to throw it into the snow, but Joey wretched his wrist back, unfolding his fingers and taking back his cell. “Jesus, Joe.”
“I repeat what I told you a few days ago: you’re fucking stupid, Kirkpatrick. For a guy who’s supposed to be brilliant, you’re really fucking dumb.”
“I sure am,” Chris agreed. He meant it facetiously, though. He hoped Joey knew that.
“I will fucking kill you if you fuck with Lance, Chris.” Joey grabbed Chris by the coat lapels and dragged him off the ice. Chris wriggled to be free, but Joey was pissed. “Your fucking issues, man. You wonder why no one sticks around? It’s because you can’t get it through your thick skull that maybe they might want to.”
“Fuck you,” Chris said. He was getting dizzy. He hated whiskey.
“I’m going to fucking rip you limb from limb, you fucking asshole,” Joey said and shook Chris hard. Chris wasn’t scared, really, thought about peeing himself for a second, but a mad Joey never really did what a mad Joey threatened. He just screamed a lot, and promised to do bad things, but he was too good a guy to really go through it. He put on a convincing act, though.
“I’m just playing hockey,” Chris said. He was going to puke, if Joey didn’t stop with the shaking and sudden movements. “Just a breather. That’s all.”
“You cannot just fuck him, Chris. You knew, you knew because I told you, that you couldn’t just fuck him. It was going to lead to more, Chris, it was going to lead to a relationship.” Joey dragged him across the snow, still hollering and carrying on. Idly, Chris hoped Lance wasn’t watching. It must look pathetic, especially when Joey dropped him flat on his ass in the snow. “You knew all of this, because we had a talk about it.”
“He hasn’t said anything,” Chris muttered.
“He’s had a fucking goddamn crush on you for-fucking-ever, and it’s been the bane of his existence for-fucking-ever because he knew, he knew, you weren’t ever going to return anything he felt, since you were always so adamant about being straight, liking chicks, being a man’s man. And then you did, and I was, like, fuck it. Maybe for once in his goddamn pathetic life Chris will actually get over himself and get on someone else.”
“Hey. Now you’re just being insulting –”
“I’m not fucking finished!” Joey roared. Chris shut up. “You and fucking labels. Are you even listening to yourself? Can you shut up the voices in your fucking head for a minute to think about the fact you might be stupid as shit in this scenario?”
“Okay. Come on, man. This is hurting,” Chris said, holding up his hand.
“From the day I met you,” Joey continued, undeterred, “you’ve been all about the free spirit mentality. That you are who you are. You knew what everyone on the Universal lot called you behind your back, all that shit about white trash, and you never gave a fuck. You did your own thing. I admired you, man, but you’ve got issues that I can’t even begin to understand.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t helping them --”
“You think straight isn’t a label, Chris? You fight against all these things, every single day. Every time I started feeling down on myself because, hey, yeah, I’ve gained a lot of weight, and everyone thinks I’m a lousy dad, or that I’m a fucking idiot, I can get over it, because that’s what I learned from you. And now you’re being a fucking dick about this, and if I don’t break your legs for Lance’s sake, I’m sure as hell going to break them for mine.”
Chris swallowed. “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” Joey said. Joey knelt down beside him, touching his shoulder, and Chris flinched, he couldn’t stop himself. Joey frowned and looked sad. “Sorry, Chris, but you needed to hear it. I just want you to be happy, you know?”
Chris couldn’t even muster a response to that.
~~~
Joey carried him back to the cabin on his back, the laces of Chris’s skates hooked around his neck. Chris could have probably walked, but Joey had already dragged him halfway back, so Chris figured he was owed this. Joey was already laden with the heavy weight of Catholic guilt. For a while, Chris would be able to get whatever he wanted from him easily.
“You okay?” Joey asked when he dropped Chris off at his door. Chris nodded, though he thought about taking a well-deserved shot at Joey’s gut. He understood, mostly, what Joey was saying. It was, probably, right, too. “Chris, man. Really. I meant it all in the nicest way.”
“I know,” Chris said. “Thanks.”
His room was dark and cold and scary, so he slipped off his clothes and slid under the covers quickly. What he didn’t expect was for an arm to link around his waist and pull him under, and Chris almost pissed himself in terror. As it was, he felt his bowels loosen considerably.
“Jeez. Calm down,” Lance muttered. “You knew I was going to be in here.”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be shitting the bed,” Chris replied. Just to be sure he was just being snarky, he felt around between his legs to make sure everything was dry. Relieved he hadn’t embarrassed himself further, Chris relaxed. Lance spooned against him, his knees pressed to the back of Chris’s legs. “Bass?”
“Hm?” Lance said. When he hummed, Chris could feel it trickle down his back.
“Nothing,” Chris muttered.
Lance pinched the fat of his stomach. “Tell me.”
“When you say straight guy crush, do you mean the sort of. Okay,” Chris tried again, pushing his cheek against the pillow. Lance was still holding him around the waist, breathing on the back of his neck. “Was that the sort of crush, like, damn, look at his fine booty, I want him to be the first guy I fuck, or was it more a –”
“White picket fences and long-time commitment?” Lance asked.
Chris’s stomach dropped, but he nodded. That was one way to put it.
“First, then second. I had to get over the initial period of freaking out that I wanted a guy like that before I could move onto anything more concrete. For a long time, it was a lot of, holy crap, cock, oh my god, dick. I settled down. I figured, worse things could happen to me than falling for one of my best friends, even if he was male.”
“I might freak out again,” Chris said.
“I know. I don’t mind. You’re pretty neurotic, Chris. I figured that out years ago,” Lance said. Chris chuckled, turning around to look at him, and Lance kissed his nose, sitting up. Flipping over completely, Chris looked up at him.
“You leaving?” Chris asked.
“No. We’re just going to talk,” Lance said and pulled him up, arranged them until they were in the middle of the bed, facing each other, legs hooked together. Lance’s hands settled at the small of his back, fingers crossing. “So talk to me.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Chris admitted, “but I’ll try.”
~~~
It wasn’t easy, Chris realised, to make Lance understand. Chris was good about the talking about himself nonsense as more than just face value. His favourite colour was silver, he liked pugs, and he was intensely phobic of heights. It was the other stuff, the deeper stuff, that he didn’t know how to put into words. He stammered and lost his way a lot. It didn’t help Lance’s eyes seemed to cut through everything he said, looking inside, like he could see everything. Chris felt transparent.
“Do you want to be with me?” Lance asked. He was so fucking blunt.
Chris chewed his own lip into his mouth. “Like, boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Lance said. He dropped his eyes, and Chris remembered, perhaps for the first time, that Lance wasn’t his age, but was eight years younger. He’d grown up a lot, but he was still relatively new to the adult thing. Chris thought he’d been born an adult. Chris couldn’t remember a time when he felt young. He acted it, but it wasn’t the same thing.
“I do,” Chris said. “That isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Chris twisted up his lips. “I still don’t know how to explain it.”
~~~
Lance was a really soft guy. When he first showed up in Orlando, he came with a toothbrush, three pairs of underwear for an overnight trip and a bag of bod wash, hand lotion and smelly shampoo. Chris, who hadn’t washed his hair and had come straight from work to meet him, stunk like armpits and looked gross. The skin on his hips was smooth like silk.
“I think I’m still at the cock, dick, oh my fucking god, I like it a lot and I shouldn’t, phase,” Chris said quietly. Lance tipped his head, his arms resting over Chris’s shoulders, and nodded. “Like, there’s no question I enjoy sex with you. I mean, my prick knows what it likes.”
“It’s not very shy,” Lance said.
If Lance was teasing, Chris couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter, anyway, since Chris never gave up the chance to talk about his dick. “No, it’s really not. It’s been a lot of places, done a lot of things. It knows what it wants, and right now, it definitely wants you. See, my cock’s not the problem.”
Lance nodded. “Really.”
“Nah. It’s sensible. Not like me.”
“So your penis wants me, but you’re not so sure?” Lance asked. Now, he was definitely making fun of Chris, but Chris had pretty much been made fun of since the moment he was born, so he barely noticed. Besides, Lance didn’t mean it maliciously.
“Okay, see. When you say it like that, it sounds dumb. And no, that’s still not it.” Chris squished his face together, trying to force his brain to work. It was still swimming with the terrible whiskey, and his arms were aching from smacking his stick on the ice. It wasn’t helping himself express himself clearly. “The logical part of me accepts that, yes, Lance is a good catch.”
“And the illogical part?”
“It doesn’t want to be gay. Which I’m not. But I don’t want to be bi, either.” Lance opened his mouth, and Chris folded his palm over it, sealing it shut. “No, no. I know I am. I get it. You’re right. This thing we’re doing, it isn’t a straight thing. We are not, despite previous reports to the contrary, two straight guys in Wisconsin, toeing the line.”
“You’re nuts,” Lance muttered through Chris’s hand. “Absolutely psychotic.”
“Obviously, Bass. You knew that going in. The fact is I don’t want to be. Because people are going to look at me differently, and that pisses me the fuck off.” Lance lifted his eyebrows, and Chris nodded. “I haven’t mentally prepared for an alternative lifestyle. I thought being in a boyband was going to be the most radical thing I ever did in my life.”
“Uh huh,” Lance said. He was a master of understatement.
“Right. So, you see, I think I have a right to freak out.”
“You do.” It sounded less like a statement than question. Fucking Bass, he was totally making fun of Chris. Chris pinched his sides, grumbling, and Lance laughed. “Chris, seriously. If you just stop freaking out about freaking out, things’ll get better. Your neurosis is out of control. You’re driving everyone up the wall.”
“See, that actually makes me happy.”
Lance smirked. “With you, it would.”
~~~
“I’m just a very cock-driven person,” Chris said later, after they’d made out for a good half an hour. Lance was just such a talented kisser, knew how to take his time and make it taste like honey. His tongue sleeked and slid around, knowing what it wanted, and he hadn’t once complained about beard burn. Chris was willing to live without his horns, but he would not, under any circumstance, live without his beard.
“You’re entirely cock-centric. Seriously. I have never come across anyone who lives and breathes dick like you do.” Lance paused then snorted, dropping his head and shaking with laughter. Chris slapped at him lightly, grinning, but didn’t much mind the connotations. “Like, in a totally not sexy way. Or rather, you didn’t used to –”
“Get on with it, Bass,” Chris said fondly. “I like cock in all forms. I know.”
“As I was saying,” Lance said and grinned, shifting a bit on the bed. They were pretty tangled now, Chris was practically on Lance’s lap, and it was early morning, though Chris didn’t know the time for sure. They’d been there a while, though, kissing and talking. “It was just a matter of time before you started focussing on someone else’s.”
Chris poked at Lance’s dick, dipping his head to watch it plump up from the contact. Lance was definitely good about the hard-on thing. One wrong look and he was raring and ready to go. Chris would admit, if pressured and paid, sometimes getting hard was now a conscious thought, but mostly, a good fondle in the dark seemed to do. “I don’t know if I believe you.”
“You’re doing it right now,” Lance said. The exasperation tickled Chris’s ear, and Chris grinned, pressing his mouth to Lance’s shoulder. So maybe he was, but really, he’d been good. Even when they were kissing and Lance’s dick was pressing into his hip, he’d let it be and focussed on the warmth of Lance’s mouth instead.
“You’re just so fucking sexy, Bass, I can’t stand it,” Chris said. It was mostly true, since Chris was at the point in the evening where he no longer wanted to talk about his own psychosis and just wanted to lay back and spread his legs instead. That was still an option.
“Remember the day I moved into that place you had with JC, Justin and Lynn?” Chris nodded. He hadn’t been thrilled, since he’d been given the second biggest room as the second oldest in the house after Lynn, only to have it turned against him by telling him he had a roommate. Chris, at that point, still hadn’t been convinced Lance was the right choice. “I hadn’t been in that house for half an hour before you were waving your dick around, proclaiming yourself the king of the castle.”
“I had to state my territory, man. You were moving in on my turf,” Chris said.
“You didn’t have to do it naked,” Lance replied, smiling.
Chris put his cheek on Lance’s smooth shoulder and grinned up at him. “I wanted to freak you out. I already knew it worked on Justin, which is why he went to hide in the kitchen the minute I started hollering. He knew the Fantastic Kirkpatrick Cock was on the scene.”
“No one else comes up with these epic titles for their private parts, I hate to tell you,” Lance said. He was laughing, Chris could feel it ripple all over his skin, so he shifted a bit closer to better feel it. There was nothing better in this world, Chris thought, than a vibrating Bass.
“No one above the age of eleven calls them private parts,” Chris replied.
“Just a lingering residue of my intense fear of them, I assure you,” Lance said then added, shoving at Chris’s gleeful face, “oh, you shut up.”
~~~
When five rolled around, Chris realised he was left with two options, neither of which involved talking. One, he could sleep, or two, he could lay back and spread his legs. He decided, before his back even hit the bed, to do two then one. After all the teasing at Lance’s hands all night, Chris didn’t think he could sleep without some sort of sex. Lance fucked him hard into the bed, big and brawny and careful. It felt even better the second time.
The one sappy thing Chris would admit about sleeping with Lance: he’d missed waking up with a hot, slightly sweaty naked body against his own. It was always fun to see if the person was a snuggler, and if they were, how they’d wake up entwined. Chris wasn’t especially touchy-feely, not in the normal world, but in bed, mostly in the morning, it was his favourite thing to do.
“Make me eggs,” Chris said in Lance’s ear. Lance grumbled and shifted on the bed, his eyes still closed. “Bass, Bass,” Chris said, licking at his earlobe, “make me some of your disgusting eggs. I’m hungry. Besides, you owe me for the pleasure of my fine ass.”
“You’re an ass,” Lance muttered. “I’m sleeping.”
“You didn’t wake up to pee, you know,” Chris said. There was nothing more annoying, Chris thought, than being reminded of the fact your bladder was full. It was fine, so long as you didn’t think about it, but Lance was obsessive about routines. He was out of bed and out the door before Chris could blink.
Lance came back, yawning. Chris propped himself up on his elbow to watch him walk, his cock swaying between his legs, plump and well-used. His pubes, a dark brown that in no way implied natural blondness and Chris couldn’t figure out how Lance ever thought people would believe him when he said he was, were matted and thick. Sex was so messy. Chris loved it.
“Hey, Bass,” Chris said and flipped onto his hands and knees, waving his ass around. Lance tripped over something, it sounded like the chair, and Chris grinned. “Yeah, c’mon, you know you want me. Then you can make me eggs.”
“Jeez, twist my arm,” Lance said.
He fucked Chris good and thorough from behind, which was new and strangely exciting. Chris especially liked when Lance sucked on the back of his neck, Lance’s hand furiously working at Chris’s cock, pulling and squeezing and fucking playing with the goddamn foreskin again. Chris wasn’t complaining, though, just felt bad Lance didn’t have one of his own, if he loved it so much. Chris wondered how normal it was to think about cocks in the middle of sex. Somehow it defeated the purpose, he thought. Lance was right. Chris really was cock-centric.
Chris wobbled out to breakfast, wearing his pajamas. He’d lost them after the first night, but found them when Lance had nearly fucked him off the bed. They were under the mattress, balled up, so he wore them. Lance was in his own pair of pajama bottoms. Chris couldn’t stop his finger from stroking the soft flesh of Lance’s lower back as they walked to the kitchen. He wasn’t wearing any underpants underneath.
“Eggs,” Chris reminded Lance. Lance sighed but got to work. Chris slapped his ass for good measure, and squealed when Lance tried to pinch his nipples through his pajama top. JC danced out of the way, shrieking as Chris tried to use him as a shield or, hopefully, as an alternative. “Okay, okay. So sorry, Bass,” Chris finally said, more for JC’s sake than his own.
“Where’s David?” Lance asked, getting the pan out from under the oven.
“Gone. Negatives vibes, man. I couldn’t dig it,” JC said. He propped his head up on his fist as he flipped through a magazine about skiing. Lance rattled the pan, and JC looked up. He smiled. “Oh, hey. He was just a fuck, guys. I don’t care. Can you make me some eggs, too?”
“Sure,” Lance said.
“Jesus. Chasez asks and you’re all obliging. I ask and you require sexual favours,” Chris said, pouring as much humour into his voice as possible, just in case JC was lying through he teeth. JC just grinned happily and leaned over to hug Chris. “I want cheese in mine.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Lance said and went to the fridge to get the brick of cheddar.
“When did y’all get married?” Justin asked, wandering in and plopping down at the table. Lance held up the frying pan, and Justin nodded. Christ almighty, Chris thought, just a look from Justin and he got eggs, but Chris didn’t mind too much. The sex was good. “Where’s David?”
“Negative vibes, man, you know I hate them,” JC replied, shrugging. Chris searched his face, for any lapse in control, but maybe JC really didn’t care. JC was married to them and the music, anyway. Chris didn’t think there was any room for anyone else in JC’s world.
“It’s just me and Mark again.”
Well, JC, them, the music and Mark, anyway. Chris sipped at the cup of juice Lance put down.
“Fuck.” Justin scowled. “It’s not fair. I don’t get any excitement in my life at all, and it’d be all fine and good but you fucks can’t stop talking about it –”
“Talking ‘bout what?” Joey asked. He bopped Chris on the head then slumped into a chair. The orange juice lapping at Chris’s mouth spilled onto his hand, and he glared at Joey, who didn’t even seem to notice. Chris licked the sticky skin clean.
“Sex. All you guys and all your sex, and I sure as hell ain’t having any, and it’s not fair.” Justin moaned and put his head down on the table. “Y’all don’t understand my pain. I try, I try so hard, and y’all don’t shut up about it. And it’s all gay sex, too. Which is, like. whoa.”
“I got laid by a fine lady two nights ago, if you want to hear about it,” Joey said.
“You didn’t tell me that, man. Where’s the love? I thought we shared,” Chris said, jabbing him in the side with a straight finger. Joey thumped him back, lower belly, dangerously close to his balls. Chris squeaked, squeezing his thighs together. “She nice?”
“Oh yeah.” Joey’s eyes had begun to roll back inside his head. Chris smacked his back proudly. Joey was a little bit desensitised to sex, mostly because he had so much good sex due to a really good sense of who gave a good lay. Bad sex for Joey, unlike the rest of the male population, was just really bad. “Tight. Nice rack, full hips.”
“Gotta love the hips,” Chris said, and he grabbed Lance as he passed by the wings of his pelvis, pulling him back. It looked like he was bringing eggs to Joey, anyway, when Chris should get them first. He actually asked and put out. Lance settled heavily into his lap. “Perfect for holding on while having dirty gross sex, Justin!”
Justin moaned miserably as Lance laughed, throwing his head back and shining.
~~~
They had one more day, Chris realised when he was getting dressed. One fucking day. Chris didn’t like the last day of anything. It was always so sad. He wanted to stay in Wisconsin forever, even if it was cold and boring and cold. Chris really hadn’t even done anything besides conduct a bunch of failed experiments in snow sports and a bunch of successful ones in Lance. JC was adamant they all go tobogganing, though.
Chris often forgot they were all men, even Justin, who shamed Chris with his lack of manly sex-drive, and JC, who dressed in women’s clothing of his own volition. And Lance, who could probably carry a baby to term. And Joey, who had been known to dress in drag for a laugh. Anyway. Chris realised tobogganing with five grown men was not a good idea within five minutes of getting to the hill.
It was pretty much empty, due to the complete lack of children in the general area, which was good. Chris and his fat ass barely fit on the big wooden sled with Lance, even when they twined their legs together and Lance plastered himself to Chris’s back, arms secure around Chris’s waist. Lance, who wasn’t a light guy anymore, not with all his rippling muscle, and Chris, who was just heavy, turned the toboggan into a fast bullet of death.
“Fuck, Joe! You fucking tub of lard, get out of the goddamned way!” Chris shouted just before they collided with Joey as he limped up the hill. Chris couldn’t steer for shit, and they took Joey down with them. They sprawled into a tumble at the bottom, the sled flipping over. Chris blinked. “My entire life, right before my eyes. And it looked like Joey’s ass.”
“Hi,” Justin said. He was still lying where the crazy carpet dumped him, smack against a big pine tree. It had looked like it hurt from the top of the hill. Closer, Chris imagined it did at that. Justin looked a bit crooked. “How come C isn’t in traction yet?”
JC whizzed by, spinning on his carpet. Lance jumped out of the way, knocking Joey down again, who slid until he squished Justin up against the tree. Chris watched Justin’s eyes bug out. That probably hurt, too. Chris looked down the hill, where JC was coming to a peaceful stop. He waved, grinning big and bright. Chris waved back.
They tried again, and they made it down to the bottom before spinning out of control. Lance was laughing as he flew, dropping into the snow and sinking deep. Chris untangled himself from the steering rope and crawled over, grinning. Lance face was red, his lips parted as he laughed and Chris folded his mouth over them. Lance kissed back, haloed by the snow, snowy gloves against Chris’s bared neck.
“Fucking cut that out!” Joey shouted suddenly.
“You’re beautiful,” Chris whispered, jumping up before Lance could say anything, and he ran back up the hill, dragging the sled behind him. When Lance caught up to him, he wrapped his arms around Chris and squeezed. Chris threw his head back and laughed.
~~~
They tumbled into the main chalet, breathless and panting. Justin was limping from his fourth encounter with the tree, and JC couldn’t stop dancing with everyone, twirling Joey around and two-stepping with Lance. They square-danced across the floor, deftly missing the people. Chris and Joey clapped to keep the pace. Justin went to sit down.
A few people looked up but other than that no one cared. Chris wanted to thank them. He just wanted this time with his friends, to be left in peace, to be normal. And he felt it, right down to his bones, he felt normal. He plopped down beside Justin and knuckled his head through the curls as he moaned pitifully.
JC bounded over to the piano, and he and Lance started playing together. Joey collapsed next to Chris, slouching down low in the seat. He reached over to pull at Justin’s hair, and Justin slapped at him. Pretty soon, all three of them were in a knot, wrestling while JC and Lance played some of Elton John’s greatest hits.
When Lance started up with “Your Song,” Chris couldn’t stop himself. He started singing. The music might not have been as obvious in him as it was in JC or Justin, but it was there. Joey joined in, letting go of Justin’s leg and letting Justin unhook it from where it was bent around his own neck. Limber boy, Chris thought wryly, as Justin started singing, too.
JC and Lance played together, messing up a bit of the notes, but Chris hardly noticed. He was too busy listening to them, all of them, his brothers, even Lance, which made it freaky, but Chris couldn’t think about that now. He had to focus on the song. Joey crooned in his ear as Justin set the pace, leaning back against Chris.
Chris didn’t realise they’d stopped singing until he belted out, “you see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue,” and he didn’t stop, anyway. Just kept going as Lance kept playing, JC sitting back and grinning to himself. Chris said, “yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen,” and then they all fell back in again, harmonising perfectly, like they always did.
When the song ended, the few people clapped and meant it. Chris could tell these things, when people were just being polite, because they got that a lot. They weren’t supposed to be real; they weren’t supposed to be able to sing or play instruments, but they could and they did. Take that, Chris thought, and when Lance turned to look at him, Chris forgot all about being mad and just smiled back.
~~~
“Fucker,” Chris said. He slid over the last of his money, and property, and three railroads, to Lance, who kissed him on the cheek before he snatched Chris’s monopoly away. It was that fucking hotel on Boardwalk, it got Chris every fucking time. “You know, I think I’m severely disadvantaged when it comes to this game. I think I’ve proven I can’t deal with money.”
Justin, who was already out due to some reckless spending early on in the game, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, man. You lose every time because you don’t have your financial advisor,” Justin used finger-quotes, and Chris smacked him upside the head. Justin yelped. “What the fuck!”
“You totally abused the almighty finger-quotes,” Chris said.
“Lasers,” Joey said, crooking his index and middle fingers. He went back to moving his shoe along eleven spaces, which put him into jail. JC was already in jail and was patiently waiting to get out without paying first. Even in fake money, JC was cheap.
“See. Joe knows. And besides, fuck you, man. I probably have more money than all of you –”
“Not me,” JC said. He rolled a five and a six, and still refused to pay the fifty bucks to freedom.
“Well, not him, but, like, when you all end up like MC Hammer, I’m not going to pay your debts. Well, Lance’s, maybe. If he sticks around that long,” Chris said. Lance tipped his head back and grinned. Chris didn’t even realise his heart was beating faster until then, like he was nervous or giddy about the prospect of Lance around for a while. “Because, you know. We’re together.”
“Oh, really, you don’t say,” Joey said. Chris poked him hard. Joey laid the sarcasm on a little thick with that particular comment. Joey smacked him back, right in the gut. “Jesus, Chris. State the obvious. We get it.”
“I just didn’t want y’all thinking it was just sex, or something,” Chris muttered. Lance chuckled in his ear, and Chris grumbled some more, feeling sour. Stupid people, didn’t realize that was actually considered a grand sweeping gesture of love in Chris’s book. Didn’t realise how, like, freaked out he still was. Kind of.
“We’re happy for you guys, dumbass,” Justin said. “Even if y’all have really loud sex.”
“I’m not loud,” Lance said. He clapped when JC, finally kicked out of jail, landed on Boardwalk. JC grumbled but paid him, with plenty left to spare. Lance rattled the dice in the cup of his hands. “It’s all Chris. The more he tries to get me to be noisy, the louder he is. It’s fun.”
“I knew you were doing that to fuck with me,” Chris said.
“You bet,” Lance said, and took all of Joey’s money.
~~~
The game ended with a stalemate, JC stingy but lucky, Lance owning three-fourths of the board. JC could and would play for hours, so eventually, Lance offered his hand, and they shook on it. Dorks, Chris thought, then played a bit with Lance’s hair.
Justin and Joey were making drinks on the coffee table, pink ones and green ones, with candied cherries and little umbrellas piercing orange slices. Lance slid onto the couch, into the vee of Chris’s legs, and Chris put a hand on his shoulder. Justin smirked.
“Fuck off, Timberlake,” Chris said, before Justin could say anything.
“At least he’s getting laid,” Lance said.
“Harsh, Bass, harsh,” Joey said with a whistle, shaking his head. Justin was sputtering in misery again, lurching over JC, who caught him and tickled with spidery fingers. Shrieking, Justin scrambled away before jumping onto the couch. Chris huffed out a breath. Tthe kid wasn’t nearly as small or light as he pretended he was.
“I am dedicated to myself and to Britney, and I do not need sex to affirm my masculinity,” Justin announced. Somewhere, JC giggled. Chris couldn’t see anything but the plain of Lance’s back. Justin was bouncing around, trying to be the biggest hassle possible. Chris’s cock, squashed in the crease of Lance’s ass, twitched.
Justin was still talking, about loving his girlfriend, and jerking off like any healthy young male but not having the urge to tell everyone every time he did it, unlike some people, who kept written records. Chris suspected that shot was at him, but he was too dazed by the grind of his dick against Lance’s ass, a slow, steady, almost painful type of sensuous rub.
“Get off,” Chris muttered. His nose was into Lance’s hairline, snuffling against the light brown hairs. He didn’t say it very loud, since he had a good three hundred pounds bearing down on him, but it was a noble gesture, he thought, before he came in his pants with a low moan. He knew he was never going to live this down. Ever.
“Oh my lord,” Lance said. Justin shut up in his tirade and got off the pile, and Chris though, miserably, that it was too little, too late. When Lance tried to move, Chris held him by the hips and wouldn’t let him go. He was wearing flannel pajama pants. You couldn’t hide shit like that when you were wearing pajama pants.
“What?” Justin said. “What?”
“Either Chris is packing it, or it’s no longer a concern,” Joey said, looking up from his row of drinks. Chris needed one desperately. Life was horribly cruel.
“What?” Justin said. Chris wanted to hit him.
“He, um.” JC waved his hand around helplessly, and Chris just wanted to get up and change his pants, but whenever Lance moved, he just held him tighter. Lance was shaking silently with laughter, the insensitive bastard. “In his pants,” JC said.
Chris decided he would live with the torment when he saw the look on Justin’s face because, really, that was so much more than Chris could have asked for.
~~~
Later, after Chris showered and changed his pants, they smoked up, all of them in the Yukon. Lance had brought two cartons of pralines and cream ice cream with him, putting them into the snow for easy access. Justin sat up front with Joey. JC wedged himself between Chris and Lance, saying solemnly, “we can’t have you guys scarring Justin again. The poor baby.”
When Justin was paranoid and wide-eyed, he asked, “is that considered having sex?”
“Hardly,” Lance replied. “At least, not for you. I think you might have made Chris and I have sex in front of you, while sitting on us, but you were in no way involved with the act itself.” Lance stopped talking long enough to take a drag. “Just, try not to do it again. I don’t know how much more he has in him, and I’ve been waiting for tonight.”
“Plenty more, baby, worry not,” Chris said and flicked his hand through the air. JC nestled against him, letting Lance hold the joint to his mouth. Chris took it from him then inhaled sharply, holding it in his lungs. With a gasp, he tapped Joey on the shoulder. “This is nice.”
“It is,” JC agreed.
“Eventful seven days,” Joey muttered. He pushed the front seat back, squishing Chris’s legs, but Chris didn’t mind. He was too busy reaching along the back of the car to poke at Lance’s neck. “Perfect way to end it, I think.”
“It was awesome when we sang,” Chris said. “Showed those fuckers who we were.”
“Nsync,” Justin said fondly. Chris nudged him in the hip with the foot he managed to wrangle from the vise of the chair. Justin thumped him on the shin then squeezed, grinning. Lance leaned over to ruffle his curls. “Nearly seven years, guys. Can you believe it?”
Chris stroked his thumb behind Lance’s ear, smiling to himself. Sometimes, he really couldn’t.
~~~
“Thus ends the amazing adventures of Chris and his cock,” Chris said when he reclined on the bed. It wasn’t over yet – one last Wisconsin fuck at least – but it truly had been an enlightening time. Chris felt, for his dick’s sake, he needed to take some time to appreciate that. Lance smiled at him, boxers around his ankles, and Chris smiled back. He felt warm and happy and languid.
“Just the prologue,” Lance said and patted his leg as he sat down. Chris reached for him, groping his cock, then squinted at it. When he looked up, Lance was laughing at him. Chris kissed it, though, right on the head. “You’re such a freak, man.” He ruffled Chris’s hair fondly.
“I have to plan my coming out party,” Chris said, stroking Lance’s cock with the pads of his fingers, pulling toward his own body. Lance was reclined like a perfect Greek sculpture, majestic and marble and nude. “Like, invite all my ex-girlfriends. They’ll love it.”
“What’re you coming out as?” Lance asked. Chris grinned.
“Lance-sexual, I dunno. Bi, I guess since you all are keen on making me pick something, or something. Or maybe, that wasn’t the moral of Joey’s story at all. Dude yelled at me, did you know? Almost made me cry,” Chris said. Fucking Joey. Chris was kind of still bitter about the whole exchange. Chris made Lance’s dick dance from left to right.
“I heard about that. He’s, like, the overprotective older sister I already have. He fights like a girl,” Lance said and gingerly removed Chris’s hand, twining their fingers together. Throwing his thigh over Chris’s hips, Lance straddled him. “Just keep listening to your dick, and we’ll be fine.”
“Speaking of which.” Chris lifted his hips, nudging between Lance’s legs. Lance grinned at him and ground down on him, the length of Chris’s dick slicking between his ass. With a hand curled around Chris’s shoulder for support, Lance rooted around on the night table.
“Oh, fuck,” Lance said and held up the dilapidated tube of hand lotion. Chris groaned. There were nearly three boxes of condoms between them, since Lance always travelled with extra and Chris was expecting, before Lance put the mack on him, to sleep with a harem of girls, easy. But there was only one source of lube.
“C probably has some,” Chris muttered.
“Have fun,” Lance said, grinning. Chris grumbled. He didn’t want to move. He was comfortable here, in bed, with Lance over him, teasing and happy. Lance didn’t sparkle normally, was pretty laid-back, but now he kind of did. Chris noticed the difference, and he didn’t want to be away from that, not even for a second.
“I don’t wanna, Bass,” Chris replied.
“I know, but I want to be with you,” Lance said, running his thumbs across the arch of Chris’s eyebrows. Chris looked up, wrinkling his forehead, then tried to kiss at the soft skin of Lance’s wrists. Lance smiled. “But I’m not doing it without lube. Just go, then come back. I’m not going anywhere, Chris.”
“Fucker,” Chris said, but meant it fondly. “Okay.”
~~~
Joey, Justin and JC were on the couch, watching some fucked up movie with swirly lights and loud, techno music. Chris stumbled when he saw it. He hadn’t felt too stoned back with Lance, but Lance was neither dance music nor pulsating blasts of colour. This was a bit too much to take, with illegal substances saturating his body and making him stupid.
“C,” Chris hissed and poked at his shoulder. JC tilted his head back.
“Hi,” JC said.
“Can I talk to you?” Chris asked, quietly, so Joey and Justin wouldn’t make fun of him, or anything. Chris just wanted to get laid, and if he had to defend himself, it would delay it that much longer. JC looked at him like he was nuts. “Just a minute, C. They’ll pause it.”
JC raised his eyebrow suspiciously. “You promise?”
Chris paused the film, mid-firework, and tucked the remote into the waistband of Lance’s pajama pants. Satisfied, JC let himself be dragged to his room. Chris flicked on the lights and shut the door. “Dude, I need lube, and, like, now. Before Lance falls asleep.”
“What kind?” JC asked, touching his fingers to his chin. His eyes were squinty and small.
“I don’t care. Whatever.” Chris sat down on the bed, hitting something hard. Ugh, he thought and shifted over. Mark was laying innocuously on the mattress, half under the blankets. JC’s dildo-boyfriend, long and fleshy and ugh. “How do you take that thing?”
JC looked over his shoulder, digging through his bag. “Easy, man. It’s good.”
“Hm,” Chris said, stroking his chin. He didn’t think he could manage it, but then JC was just more relaxed and limber than he was. Chris wouldn’t have the patience. He barely had the patience for Lance, who liked to go slow and careful, which Chris never appreciated until after.
JC held out a tube. “I don’t need it back. Unlike you, I came to Wisconsin gay and prepared.”
“Funny,” Chris said, but he smiled.
“Can I have the remote, please? They probably restarted without me,” JC said, holding out his hand. Chris took the channel changer out of his pants, hoping JC didn’t mind that it came back slightly warmer than it left.
“Thanks, C,” Chris said and stood up, tugging the blanket down over Mark, who was just starting to freak Chris out. Unlike the rest of them, his familiarity with Mark was limited to two different experiences, both of which had never involved a naked, impaled JC.
“I told you it would be good, if you just let it,” JC said and leaned on Chris’s shoulder, smiling, eyes tiny slits across his face. “You’re going to be so happy together. I can tell. He’s just perfect for you. I always thought so.”
“Thank you,” Chris repeated, hugging JC as tightly as he could without snapping the skinny freak in half. Chris was suddenly, inexplicably, overwhelmed with it all, and needed someone to ground him. He snuffled into JC’s hair, “really, dude, thank you.”
“No problem,” JC said, “just be happy, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Chris promised, then smacked JC on the ass, “now go, dude, enjoy your movie.” JC grinned but went, prancing down the hall and jumping on Joey. Justin smirked at Chris as he passed. The tube of lube was in Chris’s pants so it wasn’t quite as obvious. If Justin freaked out about Chris sucking Lance off, Chris didn’t want to see what he did when he found Chris had experience with his own ass. Justin might never recover, which, of course, meant Chris would tell him tomorrow, after he’d gotten laid. Chris did have his priorities.
Chris opened the door then shut it. Lance was sprawled on the bed, on his stomach. He glowed, Chris thought, and he hoped to fuck Lance hadn’t passed out. A stoned Lance was a fickle creature. When he wasn’t paranoid, he was snoozing. Chris crept up, in full stealth mode, but Lance flipped over.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lance said.
“Spread ‘em,” Chris said in response, holding up the lube proudly.
“Nope,” Lance said, wrapping his hand around Chris’s wrist and tugging, hard. Chris sprawled, letting Lance roll him onto his back. He cupped Lance’s ass in his hands and squeezed. Chris knew he had an admittedly fine ass, but Lance’s was just as fine, just in different ways. It was so big and full and round.
“You on some sort of power kick?” Chris asked, though he wasn’t complaining, of course. Just meant Lance had balls, trying it with him, knowing Chris wouldn’t fight someone he trusted, which was limited entirely to the four of them and Chris’s mom, who just didn’t belong in that particular line of thought at all. The point was that Lance knew him well, and Chris appreciated that. “And damn, man, but your ass is fine.”
“If you shut up, you can be in this fine ass,” Lance said, struggling with the condom. Jerkoff, Chris thought fondly, and took it from him. Having been the one to teach Lance how to use a condom, Chris felt he’d somehow failed in his teachings if Lance couldn’t open one. This one, of course, didn’t open for him either.
“You picked a gimpy rubber,” Chris decided, reaching for another one. It was one of Lance’s, who preferred Durex to Trojan, but Chris had brand loyalty to Trojan. He had a feeling it was going to be a point of compromise between them. Of course, this one wouldn’t open either. Lance tried too, with no success.
“Fuck,” Lance said, biting at it.
“Jesus.” Chris went for a third, another Durex. There were more in the room, Chris knew, but where, he couldn’t begin to guess. He was a complete and utter slob. The third one didn’t tear either. “Fucking condoms, man. They hate us.”
“I wouldn’t bother, but fuck if I know where I’ve been. When Laura dumped me, I kind of did some stupid things,” Lance admitted, flicking the package away and climbing off to find more. Chris was still working on the third.
He looked up. “Me too, man, don’t worry about it. I’m probably skanky.” Chris gnawed at the wrapped, bit in hard then pulled. The package split, but so did the condom, and he got a mouthful of lube. He coughed. “We’ll get tested together. It’ll be romantic.”
“Swell,” Lance said. He was crawling on the floor, pale white ass up in the air. “Jeez, Chris. Can you be any messier?” Lance found a box under a pair of underwear, but it was empty. Okay, Chris thought, maybe they’d brought less condoms than he originally thought because he thought that box was full. Lance moaned. “I really want to get fucked, Chris. You have no idea.”
“I can probably imagine,” Chris muttered. Lance was waving his ass around, all round and exposed, and Chris could see his asshole, tight and small. Chris wanted to lick it, suddenly and urgently. Chris also needed to get inside Lance, and now. “Fuck, Bass. I’m thinking dirty thoughts here.”
Lance scrambled to his legs and ran to the door, shouting, “JC! Jayce, come here!”
“If you haven’t figured out where to stick it by now, you’re never going to,” Joey shouted back. Chris could hear Justin the background, shouting at him to shut up about it, because Justin didn’t need to know shit like that. There was some sort of struggle, and a sound of breaking glass, then a declaration from Joey: “you’re fucking annoying, Timberlake.”
JC showed up at the door. Chris covered himself up with the pillow, but Lance didn’t bother. JC didn’t notice anyway, just looked at them both like they were morons. They probably were if they couldn’t open a condom. Wordlessly, Chris held up one of the undamaged packages.
“Can you try to open it?” Lance muttered, staring at the floor.
“Sure,” JC said. He took it and ripped it cleanly open. “There you go.”
“Thanks, C,” Chris mumbled.
“Have fun,” JC said. He elbowed Lance on the way out, leering.
“Bass, come on,” Chris moaned, since Lance looked kind of deflated, like JC had killed the mood or something, but Chris was still horny as hell. “Bass, you have no idea what I want to do to you. God, man, your ass. Please. Please, please, please.”
“That interlude didn’t even faze you, did it?” Lance asked.
“I want to lick your ass, and if you get here in the next ten seconds, I will. Come the fuck closer,” Chris said, ignoring him, reaching for him. Lance looked at him like he was crazy, and Chris groaned. “God, Bass. I mean it. I’m a rimming master. Over here, now.”
“You’re still going to fuck me,” Lance said. It sounded almost like a question.
“Six ways to Sunday,” Chris promised, “but first, I’m going to lick you. Trust me. It’ll be good. I haven’t had a complaint yet. All the girls love it.”
“Whatever you say,” Lance said and jumped on the bed.
~~~
Chris woke to fine JC, Joey and Justin staring at him and his bare ass. They were just standing there, passing time. Chris blinked at them then reached for his glasses. If they were still there when he put them on, then he knew he hadn’t died from all the fantastic sex last night and they were, instead, just being psychopaths.
They were still there.
“What the hell are you doing?” Chris asked. Where the sheets were, he didn’t know, but they definitely weren’t on him. Chris, on the other hand, was on Lance, who was awake but disoriented. Chris stopped him before he began his daily routine of looking for his dick.
“We just wanted to see,” JC said. His face was split with a grin. “Like, you guys sleeping together, like, asleep. Justin said you can tell how in love –”
The L-word, said out loud. Chris blanched. It was way too early in the relationship for that, and thankfully, Lance, who was prone to being emotionally frigid, made a similar noise of abject terror. JC rolled his eyes mid-speech. He was the only guy Chris knew who told people he loved them, especially boyfriends and immediate family members, sober and on a regular basis. JC practically kept Hallmark in business. Chris, on the other hand, only said it when drunk, telling the world about how he and his best friends simply loved each other to death. It was a bad habit that Johnny was trying to get him to break.
“– and you guys are definitely in love,” Justin finished.
“Well, good for us,” Chris said, “now get the hell out, you freaks. Jesus.”
“In my defense, I told them this was a bad idea,” Joey said. “Quite frankly, I just wanted to see my best friends sleeping buck together. Fuck, man, but you don’t really believe it until you see it. And wow, do either of you ever see the light of day? Those are two blinding white asses.”
“I swear to god, Joe,” Chris threatened, flipping over. He hoped the appearance of a well-used cock would scare away Justin, who already looked like he was about to turn tail and run. “In ten seconds, I’m going to stand up and pound your similarly white ass, you jackass.”
“We’re going,” Justin announced, shoving at Joey and JC.
“Great,” Chris replied. “Please let the door hit you on the way out.”
~~~
Lance slept for another half an hour, and Chris watched him. For a while, he felt like an incredible freak, like a voyeur or something. He didn’t know why, since Lance’s nether regions were now free game to Chris and he knew he was allowed to ogle freely. But still. Chris sat cross-legged, a palm resting on the warm ripple of Lance’s stomach, feeling it rise and fall with every quiet breath.
He also played around with Lance’s dick. He asked first, of course, and Lance, though out of it and still mostly asleep, said, “go to town.” Which meant yes, in Lance’s crazy southern speak, Chris thought. So he lifted it, and examined it, and memorised it, the complete lack of curve, the circumcision scar, the angle it hit his belly when dropped. It was really quite beautiful.
“Lance, Lance,” Chris said, lying on him, and Lance’s eyes opened. “We have to go soon, man. You want to take a shower or something?” Chris drew twirly designs on Lance’s chest, plucking at his nipples every few swoops. “With me. Shower with me.”
“What time is it?” Lance asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “And did those three bozos really check us out in bed?”
“Unfortunately.” Chris tugged him up then offered his back. Lance climbed on, heavy and solid, but Chris didn’t mind. He’d once carried Joey up four flights of stairs. Taking Lance to the bathroom wouldn’t be a problem. “And it’s, like, seven. We have to go.”
Lance sighed in Chris’s ear. “I’ll miss this place.”
“Me too,” Chris admitted.
The bathroom tile was like ice, and Chris dropped Lance off in the bathtub then turned on the water, stepping in. Lance climbed out to pee, even after Chris said he could just pee in the shower because just about everyone did, Oprah said so. Lance informed Chris that he wasn’t everyone. Chris peed in the shower, instead.
“You love me for my foreskin, don’t you?” Chris asked, later, when Lance was down on his knees washing Chris’s body. He ran the cloth between Chris’s legs then bathed his nuts, which was insanely romantic, Chris thought, but didn’t know why. Then, with all the care in the world, Lance held his cock and pulled back the skin and washed, tongue between his lips as he concentrated.
“I might admit it was part of the allure four years ago, but you aren’t your dick, Chris. It’s just an added bonus,” Lance said. Chris’s knees were buckling under the touch of the cloth, his hand pressed against the wall trying to keep him upright. Lance paused. “Am I doing it all right?”
Chris nodded, eyes closed as water poured down his face. “Yeah, Bass. It’s perfect.”
~~~
So this was it. Chris looked out the window as Justin and Joey loaded the Yukon, JC instructing them on how to best maximise space. Lance was drinking a Diet Coke, distraught to find all the coffee gone. Every so often, Chris would take a sip, but it was barely nine. It was far too early for Coca Cola products to be inside his body without, like, melting his testicles or something equally horrific.
“I don’t mind you’re a guy,” Chris said. It was completely random.
“Uh. Thank you?” Lance looked back, grinning. Lance was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, and Chris was straddled behind him, holding him around his waist. It was comfortable. Lance elbowed him gently in the gut. “I don’t mind you’re one, either.”
“I will be normal about this someday,” Chris said. He sighed.
Lance laughed. “Yeah, right. Chris, if you start acting normal, then I’ll know something is really wrong. Don’t worry about the neurosis, all right? I don’t care. You think after seven years of knowing you, I’m going to suddenly realise you’re bizarre? Come on. I may have graduated from Bus High School, but I’m not an idiot.”
Chris pursed his lips. “I’m never sure if you’re insulting me or assuring me.”
“I’m not going to stop insulting you just because we’re together, either,” Lance replied, offering up the can of Diet Coke again. Chris took a sip from the straw then kissed his sticky lips to the clean spot right behind Lance’s ear. “I mean it in the nicest way possible.”
“You’re such a bitch,” Chris said. He squeezed Lance’s middle between his arms.
“Don’t you know it.” Lance snapped his fingers in an S-pattern. “Seriously, though, it’s okay. All of it. Someday, we’re going to look back and laugh about this absurd beginning. You’ll tell the story with weird facts that never actually happened, and I’ll just go along with it all like the laidback guy that I am. Nobody will believe that’s how it all went down, but we’ll be the only ones who really know for sure. Hell, maybe you will tell it right, and it’ll still be weird.”
“Our epic love story. We’ll call it, ‘Two Straight Guys in Wisconsin.’ It’ll be made into a movie.” Chris held out his hands, and Lance, after he put the empty down, folded his fingers with Chris’s. They were chilled from the soda, and Chris tightened his grip. “We’ll star in it. It’ll make millions.”
“I kind of like, ‘The Amazing Adventures of Chris and his Cock,’” Lance admitted, lifting Chris’s hands and kissing the backs of them. Chris laid his head on Lance’s back, his cheek pressed to the space between Lance’s shoulders. “They were pretty amazing.”
“That can be the subtitle,” Chris said. “It’ll be cool. Like Star Wars.”
“Like Star Wars,” Lance agreed.
The End.