Date: Sat, 06 Apr 2002 01:31:34 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Needing You chapter 2

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true
sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned.

NEEDING YOU
By Neqs
Chapter 2

Lance had very pleasant dreams that night. Those dreams featured rapping
Tequila shots and glorious hotel hallways full of smiling sofas. So when
Lance woke up in a dreamy haze face to face with Eminem, he had no trouble
believing he was still dreaming. Not wanting to wake up, he closed his eyes
and snuggled closer, rubbing his nose into the blond rapper's soft neck,
making content noises.

The second time Lance awoke, there was a firm warmth pressed against his
back and a strong arm encircling his slender waist, pulling him
backwards. There was also something quite friendly and large pushing
against the small of his back. This began to ring a bell in the singer's
head, although the small sound was drowned by the pounding hangover that
seemed to be residing there.  Finally the realisation of where he was and
who with came.

'I'm in Marshall Mathers' hotel room! I'm in his bed, together with him,
both butt-naked. And last night...' Lance's mind was overwhelmed by the
shocking occurrences.  Although he was loath to leave the cosy warmth of
the slumbering rapper's protective embrace, Lance caved in to the urge to
try to slink out of the room like the dirty whore he felt like.

'He'll think I do this all the time. I shouldn't have drunk so much; I'm
never so forward when I'm sober. I must get out of here before he wakes up
and decides to either gay-bash me no matter what he said yesterday, or slap
me around like the bitch I must have come across as,' he thought
despairingly.

Lance was getting more and more upset by the minute. As usual, his
responsible side kicked in and he realised that his band mates must be
missing him, as it was already (he glanced at the bedside clock) 2 p.m.!
They were supposed to be somewhere at four!

Lance increased his efforts to extricate himself from the still-sleeping
Marshall's arms. Just as he flung his smooth alabaster leg over the edge of
the bed, thinking he'd succeeded in his attempted escape, Lance felt a
strong grip on his wrist. When he spun around, a pair of strikingly blue,
accusing eyes froze him still.

"And where do you think you're going?" Marshall growled, pulling Lance back
to his arms, giving him a blisteringly passionate good morning kiss that
left the singer unable to answer any questions and barely able to remember
his own name.

The kiss stretched into several until the two men were just a sweaty,
breathy tangle of toned limbs. Lance's feelings of shame and fear faded, as
did Marshall's anger at Lance's attempt to leave.

"Now, would you be so kind as to explain what the fuck you were thinking?"
Marshall asked, still a little out of breath.

"Uh...I just...you must think I'm such a slut!" Lance stammered before
burying his face into Marshall's chest.

Startled, the rapper gazed down at the blonde hiding his face in a bout of
self-consciousness. 'So he's not usually that bold,' he thought. 'This
shyness thing is rather endearing, actually. And I know from last night he
has some fire in him, too. But now I must reassure him...'

"Lance, I've known you only a short time, but I think you're an
intelligent, attractive guy, who had maybe one drink too much the night
before. How many did you have, anyway?" he asked, trying to ease Lance's
agitation.

Lance mumbled something into his neck, and he had to ask again. "What did
you say?"

This time the young man with green eyes, which at the time were tinged with
red, lifted his head and gave a timid smile.

"Seven shots of Tequila, I think, in the space of maybe two hours. I have a
really bad head for drinking," he explained, encouraged by the rapper's
friendly words.

"Then you must have been pretty wasted, huh? Am I right in assuming that
you are usually more inhibited? You did a great job though, and I wouldn't
mind seeing you again sometime. And it would be nice if we'd get to know
each other too..." Marshall's words trailed away, sounding a bit assuming
to him but warming Lance from inside like nothing before.

Lance's shy smile grew and his eyes began to sparkle. "Oh, I'd like that a
lot! And yeah, the alcohol made me say and do a few things I usually
wouldn't have said and done, but I really enjoyed what we did and find you
very attractive too!" Lance enthused, his fears forgotten.

Marshall couldn't help but smile back at the dashing young man he'd made so
happy. Suddenly he was arrested by a need to keep making Lance happy for a
long, long time.  This frightened him more than a little, hell; it scared
the shit out of him. Still, he'd learned to recognise a good thing when he
saw it, and the man lying in this bed with him was definitely a good thing.

"So," Marshall drawled. "How long are you in town?"

"We're working in a studio downtown for a few weeks, recording stuff for
our new album," Lance said. "Me and the guys are staying in this hotel for
the whole time, so...the guys! Oh God!" The singer panicked again, knowing
that the other guys would be worrying about him. "I need to go, the guys-"

"It's ok," Marshall said understandingly, not yet releasing his hold on
Lance. "I'll be here a few weeks too, sitting in some boring
meetings. Luckily I'm Eminem, so nobody expects to see me there that often
anyway. Images have their uses," Marshall chuckled. Then he grew serious
again.  "I'll call you tonight. You have fun recording stuff. I'll see you
later," he said to the fidgeting singer.

Lance smiled in agreement and scribbled his number on the hotel notepad on
the night table.  Then he battled himself back into his tight leather pants
and pulled the silver top over his head, his nose twitching at the
unappealing odour. "I guess my briefs were ruined," he mumbled, blushing
and looking down at his feet.

"Yeah," answered Marshall, getting up from the bed where he'd lain admiring
the reverse striptease. "You got a little excited last night so I threw
them in the trash after I stripped for bed last night," he said. He pulled
the red-faced Mississippian against his still naked form, meshing their
lips together like the twin pieces of hot metal they felt like. He then
moved his hungry lips to Lance's supple neck, kissing it and sucking it
ferociously, but with an underlying gentleness.

Lance moaned at the feelings the mouth on his neck made him experience. He
felt lust, but also the beginnings of something more permanent, more
valuable, and more absolutely necessary than just simple physical
attraction. 'I hope he calls.'

As if hearing his wistful thought, Marshall raised his head. "I'll call you
tonight around eight, ok? Now hop before your friends report you missing to
the police."

Lance nodded obediently and made his way to the door and opened it. Then he
turned and flashed one last smile at the rapper before turning and exiting
the room.

'There he goes...I'll see him again tonight, though,' Marshall thought,
shaking himself. 'Damn, he's not the only one who had a little too much to
drink last night,' he realised when hot needles shot through his
brain. 'Nothing a few Aspirins and some sleep won't cure.  Back to bed.'

After retrieving the Aspirins and a glass of water from the bathroom he
climbed back between the crinkled sheets, sinking his head into a
pillow. 'The wrong pillow,' he thought when he could smell the traces of
smoke, styling products, and Lance in the soft white cushion.  'The right
pillow,' he amended after considering the matter for a few moments. 'God
I'm such a sap,' was what he thought last before succumbing to his body's
demands for rest.

* * *

'I hope they haven't been worried sick about me,' Lance thought while
walking the short distance to his room. 'It would be great if they hadn't
even noticed I didn't sleep in my own room last night.' His hopes were
dashed when he opened the door and found his band mates sitting around in
his hotel room, eating a very late breakfast and chatting lazily.  'I
really shouldn't have given Josh that extra key card.'

When the other members of *NSYNC noticed Lance standing there in the
doorway, still wearing his clothes from the previous night, the
conversation ebbed and knowing grins began to form on four high-priced
faces.

"Well look who's here!" exclaimed Joey, who'd just been describing his
exploits the night before to a disbelieving Chris. "Our little Lancey Poo
got lucky last night!"

"Who was the lucky guy?" asked JC, who knew too well how rarely Lance
indulged himself, and also how cheap he always felt afterwards. Hence, he
was one very surprised Joshua Scott Chasez when Lance grinned back shyly
and answered, "I'm not telling, you'd never believe me anyway!"

Justin Timberlake, the youngest of the five, was delighted at his friend's
unexpected enthusiasm, but couldn't let the chance to rib his too serious
band mate slide. "Nice marks on the neck, man," he said, leering
suggestively. "That his initials?"

Horrified, Lance slapped a hand on his discoloured neck and rushed to the
nearest mirror. His eyes grew wider as he inspected the damage done by the
rapper's greedy lips and teeth. "The bastard marked me!" he quacked,
shocked and distressed. When he got over the initial humiliation, the
thought ceased to be purely embarrassing. 'He marked me. Mmm...I could deal
with a possessive lover,' he thought with a dreamy smile. 'Lover?' He was
jerked out of his fantasies.  'Can I call him my lover now? Am I his lover
or am I just his possession? Or am I even his?'

Chris, who put his hands on Lance's shoulders and guided him to a chair, on
the side instructing Joey to fix Lance a plate, interrupted the blonde's
jumbled thoughts.

"Hey Fatone, did you eat everything yet or is there still something left
for Lansten to eat? You won't fit into the superman suit you've got hidden
in your luggage if you keep eating like a pig!"  the oldest *NSYNCer teased
the superman-fixated stud from Bronx.

"No need to be mean, Christopher," Joey whined good-naturedly while
collecting the scraps of food that were left on a plate and setting it
before the distracted Lance.

"We don't want to pressure you or upset you or anything, Lance," Chris
said, shooting a warning look at Justin, who was visibly dying with
curiosity. "You just seem different from usual, less depressed, so whoever
you were with, he must have been good therapy," the psych degree owner
continued, gently fishing for answers. "It was a he, right?" he asked,
unnerved by Lance's silence.

"What?" Lance asked, awakening from his daze. "Of course it was a he, I
wouldn't touch a woman in a sexual way with a five-foot stick! Even if I
were as drunk as I was last night."

"You did drink a little much, Lance," remarked JC who'd been humming to
himself and writing something down in his ever-present notebook. "Want some
aspirin? It's not very wise to drink Tequila with Mexican chicks, you know,
they've got a resistance for it."

"Shakira's not Mexican, she's half Colombian, half Lebanese. Besides, she's
so damn funny that if I were a breeder, I'd marry her in a second!" Lance
defended his friend.  "And yes please, the Aspirin would be nice," he
finished politely.

"So? Where'd you spend the night and more importantly who with?" Justin had
to ask, ignoring the warning glares of the other guys. They were a little
curious too, despite themselves, and all heads turned to Lance, waiting for
an answer.

Feeling fortified by the Aspirins JC had handed to him and the bit of food
he'd had the time and presence of mind to ingest, Lance lifted his face and
smiled impishly at his friends. "As I said, you'd never believe me if I
told you, so why bother."

Justin whined, "Come on Lance! Give me a hint! I'll believe you, now who
was it? Robbie Williams? Ben Affleck? Ricky Martin?"

"Try the less obviously gay ones, JuJu," was the only hint Lance would
give.

"Ok...So someone not obvious? How about Carson Daly? Nah, he's just plain
repulsive. Maybe it's that Usher guy? I don't know, this guessing thing is
hard. Marshall Mathers, final offer," Justin said, giving up.

"Why, Justin, how ever did you know?" mocked a very amused Lance, knowing
well that Justin hadn't been serious with his guess. "Did you see me coming
out of his room or something?" Lance was having a hard time not laughing at
the stunned faces of his band mates.  They returned to normal only after
Lance had walked to his dresser, grabbed his camera, and snapped a picture
of the hilarious expressions of the other four.

"Hey," Chris objected, "that was so something I would do in a situation
like this. On the other hand, I wouldn't sleep with Eminem-"

"Oh, I didn't sleep with him. I just, you know..." Lance was blushing
furiously now. "And we slept in the same bed, and kissed some, too. It was
really nice." Lance's voice got smaller and smaller as he ducked his head
and became extremely interested in the cup of coffee Joey had also provided
for him.

"Lansten and Eminem, sitting in a tree-" Justin got no further before JC
shut him up with a sharp glance. Justin settled for pouting, which grew
increasingly difficult when his lover started massaging his scalp with his
long piano player's fingers. JC stopped after hearing a little moan escape
the no longer pouting lips, mission accomplished, and after glaring at him
accusingly Justin flashed the rest of the room the famous Timberlake smile,
patting JC's knee affectionately.

"So how was he? I mean...what was he like, I take it he's not as totally
homophobic as his lyrics suggest?" Justin asked his friend.

"You could have gotten your ass kicked," Joey said, suddenly worried about
Lance.

"No, he's not like that at all!" Lance protested. "Besides, he's the one
who made the first move.  He's really smart and nice, and he wants to see
me again. He's calling me tonight."

"Well that's nice," JC commented, having some doubts about the whole thing
but not wanting to depress his friend or squash his hopes. Lance had always
had low self-esteem, and if this thing made him feel better for a while, JC
was all for it. And when it finally went down in flames, Lance's friends
would be there to offer him a shoulder to cry on.

Justin, however, didn't bother to think such serious thoughts. "Does he
have a nice body? He always wears those baggy clothes. What about his
dick?" Justin asked shamelessly, while Lance once again blushed so red he
looked like a lobster.

"Hey! Straight guys in the room!" Joey complained, covering his ears just
to be on the safe side.  "I don't want to hear anything about Eminem's or
anyone else's dick, and I doubt Chris does either.  Besides, shouldn't we
start heading for the studio?" he asked, cleverly changing the subject.

"Yes!" It was clear that Lance too wanted to escape this embarrassing
conversation. "Come on now, guys, the sooner we get this done, the sooner
we're free for the night," he said, ushering his friends out the
door. "I've got to take a shower. I'll be ready in ten. Meet me downstairs
in fifteen, security said that the lobby should be secure from fans," Lance
rattled on, slipping into his manager mode.

As he soaped his body in the shower, Lance remembered how Marshall's hands
felt caressing his neck, his back, his thighs. The next thing he knew, he
was coating the shower wall with a rich white cream, shaking with the power
of his climax.

'I hope he calls,' he thought as he exited his room clean and dressed for
the day, and gave a passing glance to the rapper's door as he walked past
it on his way to the elevators. 'It's going to be a long day.'

TBC

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