Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2002 14:42:25 +0300 From: Neea P. Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 6 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 6 "Wha...uh!" For a moment he didn't know who he was, where he was, or with whom. The only thing he knew was that he'd just been brought to a mind-shattering orgasm. The grinning face with clear, laughing green eyes that swam into his field to vision gave him a hint. "How was that for a wake-up call, Em?" Oh, that was his name, right. "Um, yeah!" was the most coherent answer he could muster. "That was, that was real nice." "Glad you approve, loverboy. I owed you one from last night." "James." Yeah, that was the name that went with the angelic face looming over him. "You didn't owe me anything, I owed you from the first night. Now you're one ahead, again!" Wow, he could actually form sentences now. "I guess we'll just have to keep taking turns," Lance smirked at the rapper. "Guess so." He certainly had nothing against that! "So." Why did James look so serious all of a sudden? "Would you be interested in eating breakfast together with the guys today? They're dying to meet you," Lance finished uncertainly. Marshall met his gaze levelly. "Sure. I mean, I guess I'll have to go win their stamp of approval someday, so why not now?" Despite his confident words, he's slightly nervous. 'God, this is like meeting the parents or something. Well, meeting the four adopted brothers so it's practically the same thing.' Lance's face lit up. "Great! We're supposed to be having breakfast in Joey's room this morning, so we need to go a bit earlier to make sure there's any food left. Shall we?" They carried out their morning rituals and got dressed in casual clothes, deciding to take a shower after breakfast. Soon they were knocking on Joey's door. Marshall took a deep breath, which didn't go unnoticed by his boyfriend. "Relax, Em. It's just a bunch of brainless pop stars, you know," Lance tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I know. But I can't just outline my plan to kill them on my next album too if something goes wrong. There's actually something at stake here," Marshall finished, rubbing his short hair. "Nothing's at stake here. If they don't like you it's their loss. If they do like you, we can maybe all hang out together sometime so you can get to know each other." "Well that would be just great," Marshall muttered under his breath. He might spend a little time with some pop divas to please his James, but no one could force him to enjoy it. This thinking of people as people and not as categories was really difficult. The door flung open before he had time to say more. * * * 'Well, that was an interesting morning,' Marshall mused, letting the label representative's voice float over his head. He sometimes had a hard time understanding why his presence was required in these meetings when nobody actually expected him to contribute or to even pay attention. Industry logic. The wake-up had been very pleasant, even though he'd been disoriented and confused when he woke up in the throes of orgasm. Still, it was an extremely nice way to start a day. The breakfast, on the other hand, had been just plain odd. From the moment the short dark guy opened the door, Marshall had been surrounded by pop stars, all with different reactions to his obviously unexpected presence. The pretty boy (not a compliment) Justin had grinned like the Cheshire cat and babbled on about his music and appearances and so on. The thin man sitting next to him, Josh, had just tried to stare a hole through his skull. Nice, that. The other two, Joey and Chris, had been more normal towards him. "If you hurt our boy, I'll cut off your balls and make you cook them yourself before I make you eat them," the taller brunette had told him matter-of-factly, while still smiling warmly. "Breakfast?" Well, there were different definitions for 'normal'. The shorter dark-haired man wearing a stupid grin cracked a joke about what his band mate and the rapper did in bed, and Marshall frowned. He noticed Lance looking at him imploringly and sighed. He'd give it a try. And he had. He kept his temper in check during tactless jokes told by Chris, endured Justin's nosy curiosity and Josh's unwavering glare, and responded to Joey's amicable small talk all through breakfast. Lance had brought him a plate of things he knew from experience Marshall liked, and he'd smiled his thanks to the quiet blonde while trying to hold two different conversations, one with Joey and the other one with Justin. He'd surprised himself by actually being able to relax a little and be natural. The guys weren't that bad, even if that Josh guy still glowered and the young one was way too bubbly. He might even manage to have a decent conversation with them one day, as long as he'd be able to forget about protecting his image. In public, he'd do everything except spit at them; in private, he would treat them well if they treated him well. That much he could do for his James. After breakfast they'd moved most of Lance's things into Marshall's suite. They'd both be there for over a week and it just made more sense. Besides, there was a definite plus to living together. "Wanna shower?" asked Marshall after they'd put Lance's things away. Lance accepted, and soon they were under the caressing water, pressed together in hot wetness, soaping each other with exploring hands. Marshall showed a special interest in Lance's backside, and the singer's giggle gave Marshall something to look forward to. They had no time for fooling around now; they had to get going soon. But tonight... * * * "Honey, I'm home!" rang Lance's cheerful call as he stepped into the suite they now shared. "Marshall?" Suddenly there was a hard, hot, horny man slamming Lance against the door he'd just closed behind him. A feverishly snaking tongue parted his lips while possessive hands slid up and down his sides, muscular back, and the spongy perfection of his bottom. Something made Lance analyse the adjectives he'd used to describe the man who was now caressing the insides of his cheeks with his tongue. 'He's got hard muscles, especially this one pushing against my thigh. He's gorgeous, and also hot and bothered, and horny if his kisses are anything to go by. And that delicious grinding...' Suddenly Marshall lifted Lance from his feet like he weighed nothing, and Lance instinctively wrapped his limbs around the other man's body. They blindly fumbled their way into to bedroom, their lips never coming apart in the process. Marshall laid Lance on the bed, spreading his own muscular form on top of him. Clothes were tugged and ripped off in breathy haste and thrown to all directions. Two hungering bodies were writhing in a pile of gorgeous flesh, sweat, and overpowering need. Every touch was like a blistering dream, and when Marshall's ravenous mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of Lance's neck, the man with jade eyes felt like he would spontaneously combust. "Em, please...ah!" Lance's whimpers gave indication of how far gone he was. "What is it that you want, James?" Marshall teased, enjoying the feeling of power, yet knowing he'd be happy to give the singer what he wanted. "I want...you...in me...now!" Lance's gasped command contrasted with the wriggling, squirming pleading of his body. The ultimate goal was the same, though: to be filled, possessed, overwhelmed. Marshall obliged by bringing his lubricated fingers between Lance's wantonly spread legs, probing and coaxing until the man was a whimpering, panting heap of need. "Ready?" Marshall asked, receiving a fervent affirmative, before placing his latex-covered hardness to where his fingers had been. He pushed in cautiously at first, but Lance was so well prepared and needy that he could sink right in, making them both expel their breaths simultaneously, stopping to savour the wonderful feeling. They couldn't pause for long, however, because they were on a one-way street headed to a shattering climax. Their bodies sang a duet of lustful unification. The rhythm was set by the rapper's forceful thrusts, which the singer tried to follow by arching upwards, his head snapping back as he hissed in ecstasy. His beautiful, pale legs clung to the thighs of the man on top of him, his nails dancing lightly over the broad back. Grunts, groans, whispered unintelligible words, whimpers, and moans were silenced by the waves of orgasm that flooded over both of them at the same moment. Only gasps could be heard as the two struggled to regain their senses and let their breathing normalise as they lay in a sweaty pile of post-coital bliss. "That was-" "Oh wow-" "Yeah." "Exactly." No more words were needed. * * * As they enjoyed the afterglow, fingers sliding in lazy caresses on slowly cooling skin, Lance and Marshall discussed their schedules for the next few days. "We don't have the studio booked for tomorrow, but we have a photo shoot and then I need to go find something flashy to wear for the industry party that evening," Lance said while absently rubbing his lover's smooth chest with his fingertips, his head resting on the strong bicep. "I'm going to that party too. I usually don't, because I'm supposed to hate all pop stars and most people in general, but this time my PR people insisted that I at least show myself." Marshall was running his nails through the sparse, silky hair on Lance's arm. "Great! Maybe the evening won't be a loss after all," Lance said brightly. Marshall lifted his head to meet the other man's eyes levelly. "You know I can't act friendly with you in public, don't you? I have an image to uphold, and that means being rude, derogatory, and hostile towards people like you and your band mates. It's not that I want to, even though I sometimes enjoy it if my target is someone as superficial as, for example, Britney Spears, but it's a part of the job. You understand that, don't you James?" Marshall Mathers almost pleaded. Lance sighed. "I guess I do. If you suddenly became politically correct, it would be the same thing as if I took a facial piercing and advertised condoms or something like that, if you'll forgive the bad examples. It's still gonna be hard, though." He sighed. "So, what are we going to do for the rest of the evening?" Marshall asked, changing the subject. "Well," Lance lowered his eyes, "I really need to look over some FreeLance papers, but if you have plans-" "No, that's fine. I've actually got a book I should read for my-" the rapper's voice faltered, "studies..." "Your what? I mean, this is wonderful, but why doesn't anyone know about this? It would be national news!" Lance was surprised, but careful not to be insult the touchy rapper. "That's the point. It's a top-secret thing. If it ever came out that I'm working on a degree on English Literature I'd lose half of my fan base, if not all of it," Marshall explained, embarrassed. "So you need to promise not to tell anyone, not even the guys." "I promise," Lance vowed with a solemn expression before breaking into a grin. "So, shall we take a quick shower before hitting the books, Dr. Mathers?" he queried innocuously, a moment later fleeing from the cussing rapper towards the bathroom, shrieking with laughter. After a furious tickling that left Lance red and teary-eyed, the pair set out to cleanse their bodies of the accumulated sweat and semen with lots of playfulness and bantering. * * * Lance and Marshall slipped into some comfy clothes, flopped onto the sofa in their usual places and spread their work before them. With soft jazz providing pleasant but not distracting background noise, the pair worked efficiently and in a comfortable silence, which was only broken by an occasional comment or question. Marshall was reading Roddy Doyle's 'Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha'. "That's a silly name for a book." "Yeah I think so too, but it's funny and well-written." "Isn't this supposed to be English literature? I think Roddy Doyle is Irish." "How should I know? It's on my reading list, so I read it." And so Marshall read it, with the help of a study guide. "James?" "Yes, dear?" "You called me 'dear'." "Do you mind? I'm sorry-" "No, I like it. Nobody's just ever called me 'dear' before." "So what did you want to ask, dear?" "What's a non sequitur, babe?" "You called me 'babe'." "Is it okay? I mean-" "I love it! It's just...never mind. Well, a non sequitur is a sudden change of topic, usually with no apparent connection to the previous topic. At least that's what I think, but I've never studied literature that much." "Thanks, babe." "You're welcome, dear." And such was the domestic bliss in the Bass-Mathers hotel suite. * * * The lights were radiating heat like little suns and the photographer was being a pain in the ass. Lance, dressed in black wool of all things, grimaced at the camera. He'd stopped smiling two hours ago. "Come on, Lance, show some of that southern charm!" the head devil of this particular hell commanded. 'I'll tell you where to shove my southern charm,' Lance thought, never either voicing the thought or finishing it. It was just a way to vent frustration, just like Justin's diva act or Chris's horrible jokes. Lance let his mind wander. 'Last night was sooo amazing. The passion, the rapture, it was like nothing ever! And his moves...' At that point Lance's musings were rudely interrupted. "Keep the dreamy smile and the blush, Lance! Pretend you're thinking of a very hot, naughty girl. Excellent!" Ugh. If someone came and shot the dratted photographer in the leg right now, Lance would be the first one to clap his hands and cheer. He carefully changed his smile into the grimace. * * * After the shoot was finally over, the guys regained their strength over a long meal. Then it was time for battle plans. "I have absolutely nothing to wear! Lance, you'll come help me choose something, won't you?" begged Justin pitifully. "I'd tell you to ask you boyfriend, but I need something new myself so I'll go freely," Lance said, snatching the last grape from in front of Joey's nose. "Hey!" "Great! Anyone else coming?" "I'll go with you two, just to make sure you don't buy anything pink and embarrass us all," Chris volunteered, sounding like a martyr. "Yeah, right! You're the one most likely to wear something totally freakish anyway, so you need at least two fashionably conscious gay guys to shop with you if you want to find something adequate!" Justin retorted. "Isn't it a bit odd that Chris the Straight got your gay shopping gene?" Joey asked JC as they watched the other three head for the shops. "That's just a stereotype, Joey. Besides, I get to wear all the gorgeous, flaming things Justin buys for me, and I don't need to go through the torture of shopping," Josh answered shrewdly. "Neat!" * * * Lance was happily exhausted when he entered the suite, weighed down with approximately ten bags. Marshall stared. "Did you buy everything you saw?" he asked, amazed by the number of shopping bags. "Of course not! Justin always grabbed the best stuff, this is about half of the things I saw and wanted," Lance explained patiently. "Oh I see," Marshall said, but he didn't see. It was fun too see his boyfriend so excited, though. "Oh and I bought you something to wear at the party!" Lance exclaimed, digging through the bags cheerfully. "Here it is!" Marshall stared again. 'It' was a tight, scarlet, satiny short-sleeved shirt with a v-neck. "There's no way in hell I'm gonna wear that in public!" The last word wasn't out of his mouth before Marshall realised he had fucked up. Lance's face, which had a moment ago been alight with the joy of pleasing his boyfriend, had crumpled to mask of undeserved dejection. The magical pale green eyes were brimming with tears, and Lance was biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling. "I-I'm sorry," Lance choked out before running to the bathroom. Marshall mentally kicked himself. Then he did it physically. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the sight of Lance, looking like a kicked puppy. The bathroom door was locked. Of course it was. "James? Babe? Sweetheart? I'm sorry. I really do like the shirt." That was a lie. "I'd love to wear it tonight." Another lie. "I'll do it for you, gladly." That was true. "Please open the door, sugar. It's lonely here without you." "Did you mean that?" came Lance's voice through the door, thick with tears. "Yes, I'm all alone in here and miss your lovely company-" "No, I meant, will you wear the shirt?" Sigh. "Yeah, that's what I said. I'll wear the shirt you so thoughtfully bought me. Thanks for thinking about me, by the way." Right answer. Lance opened the door and threw himself into Marshall's arms. "I'm sorry for being such a cry-baby, Em." "I'm the one who's sorry, James. Come on, let's go get some rest, it's gonna be a long night at the party." They didn't get much rest, but they found out that make-up sex is every bit as great as it's said to be. TBC Comments are greatly appreciated. Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com. Even a "read it. didn't puke. feel free to write some more." is nice, if you have nothing else to say. Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!