Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2000 00:08:07 GMT
From: S S <sshayla@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Get Away" (Gay/Celebrity/Boy-Bands)

Disclaimer: I have no association with any member of *NSYNC, their families,
management, etc. This is a work of fiction. I do not intend to imply
anything about the sexualities of either Lance Bass or JC Chasez. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely (partially?)
coincidental. This story contains portrayals of homosexual (male/male)
sexual activity. Don't read it if you object to that kind of thing for any
reason or if it is illegal for you to do so.
Please send feedback! sshayla@hotmail.com

**********

Get Away
Part 1 of 2: Scream
Copyright (C) 2000 Shayla-Shayla

"Hey. JC."

A tap on JC's shoulder startled him, and he turned from the girl he'd been
dancing with to see Lance standing behind him, a giddy smile clinging to his
face. Around them the club pulsed with excitement, bodies gyrating on the
dance floor, the scents of sweat and smoke permeating the air. JC allowed
his eyes to briefly drift over Lance's body, taking in the baggy black jeans
that were cinched just tightly enough at the waist to cut into the curve of
his belly, and the snug long-sleeved knit shirt that showed the mild
definition of Lance's chest and arms. Clearing his throat, JC was about to
ask Lance what he wanted when the blond held up his beer bottle, holding it
loosely by the neck. It looked empty. "I'm gonna go get a refill," Lance
stated, swinging the bottle slightly, and gestured to JC's own bottle, which
he held as he danced. "You want me to get you one, too?"

JC glanced down at his bottle, considering. It was about two-thirds empty,
but he'd been nursing it slowly and that one-third would probably last him
another half hour. He drank for refreshment mainly, not to get buzzed or
drunk. He looked back up at Lance, about to tell him that it was okay, that
he'd pass; but there was an unspoken question in the younger man's eyes and
a fierce light illuminating them, and suddenly JC thought that maybe he
should accompany Lance for that refill.

"Um, yeah, sure. Lemme... lemme go with you for that," he stammered, raising
his bottle in a casual salute before turning back to his dance partner to
excuse himself. When she nodded and began to make her way through the crowd,
JC followed Lance's lead through the masses of hips and limbs, away from the
dance floor. As he expected, Lance passed the bar without a sideways glance,
not even slowing, and JC's heart quickened. *Please, God,* he prayed, *let
there be a hallway around here, or a room, or something, anything...*

He caught up with Lance when the latter stopped short at a darkened corridor
next to the mens' washroom, leaning forward on one foot to peer down to the
end. It looked unoccupied, and he looked back over his shoulder at JC to see
if it met with his approval. JC nodded, and as Lance started down the
hallway ahead of him, JC turned to their bodyguard, Wes, who had followed
them, and gave an apologetic shrug. Wes smiled in grim resignation, folding
his arms across his chest and settling himself into his position of watch
post, and JC left him then, maneuvering his way down the hall to meet Lance.
A rusty-looking pay phone stood nailed to the wall in the corner; it was an
older model, one with no digital display, and was probably broken. At least
that was what Wes would tell anyone who attempted to navigate that hallway.

Lance set his bottle and JC's down on top of the phone, wedging himself into
the nook between the phone and the wall, and pulled JC to him. JC leaned
into Lance, one palm flat against the wall beside Lance's head. The fingers
of the other hovered over Lance's shoulder, his thumb dipping down to stroke
a sliver of exposed collarbone. "When was the last time we got to be alone
together?" he asked softly, his eyes lowered, watching Lance's chest rise
and fall with his breaths.

"We sleep together, JC," Lance answered, his voice equally soft and mouth
turning up slightly at the corners. JC was close enough to feel Lance's
breath fan his face. Lance ran his hands up the insides of JC's arms, down
the sides of his chest, over his ribs. He repeated the action. "We woke *up*
alone together this morning."

JC leaned in further, shifting his weight so that his shoulder was to the
wall, and shook his head. "No, *you* know what I mean. *Really* alone." He
finally lowered his fingers to brush Lance's shirt, brushing them lightly
over the surface. "No meetings to go to." He trailed his fingers down to
Lance's chest and traced the path of his pectoral muscle. "No guys around so
we keep getting interrupted." His fingers dragged over Lance's nipple,
already hard under his teasing touch. "No public around so we can't touch
each other unless we sneak away like this."

He both heard and felt Lance sigh as he touched his nose to Lance's temple,
hot with fever and the buzz of intoxication and what he knew was lust for
him. Beneath his palm, he felt Lance begin to speak before the sounds left
his throat, the wonderful low vibrations rumbling against JC's skin. "We get
to go home in a week, babe. You get to come home with me," Lance was saying,
but his voice wasn't so light and easy anymore. No, JC didn't suppose that
it would be, once he'd started in on that slow, maddening foreplay that got
Lance so excited so damn *fast*, and then JC would draw it out until Lance
was ready to scream, before he ended it for them both.

JC didn't respond right away, nuzzling Lance's temple before moving down the
side of his face, pressing his lips gently against key points. That spot
right in front of Lance's ear. The dip at the curve of his jawline. Lance's
soft stubble tickled his lips (why was Lance's stubble so soft when it grew
in, while JC's was so bristly and rough? It was the same damn hair, wasn't
it? He couldn't figure it out), and he smiled against Lance's skin before
extending his tongue and flicking Lance's earlobe with it. He closed his
mouth over the lobe and sucked on it tentatively, testing for a reaction,
and received his answer when Lance's hands stilled on his arms, fingers
pressing into his muscles. Now he could feel Lance's heart speeding up
beneath his hand, could feel his breath become heavier.

A quick check over his shoulder re-confirmed the presence of Wes's sturdy
back blocking the entryway from all who dared enter; then JC nipped Lance's
earlobe more roughly and brought his hands down around the blond's waist,
daring to press his hips against his boy, feeling the hardness of Lance's
pelvic bone against the hardness of his... well... damn, but he was hard. He
was met with an answering shove from Lance's own hips, the younger man's
shallow, quickened breath resounding in JC's ear. He fanned one hand out
over Lance's stomach while the other slid between Lance's body and the wall,
seeking out his rear, kneading it with slow, deliberate motions. He kissed a
path down the column of Lance's neck, nudging aside the metal chain of the
cross that Lance wore and claiming that patch of skin with his mouth,
licking the area and latching onto it with his lips.

*We go home in a week,* he thought; 'home' which meant Lance's place, since
JC didn't have one of his own. Not that he'd want one when it meant he'd
either be living apart from Lance or neglecting his home in order to spend
more time in Lance's. *"Why don't you just move in, JC? I don't mind,"*
Lance had said on more than one occasion; after all, JC had already helped
with the interior decorating and chipped in wherever else he could. But
Lance always said it without the weight of making it seem a proposal, so JC
didn't feel guilty about his unwillingness to take that step.

It wasn't that he would feel tied down, or that he didn't love Lance; he
did. Oh, God, he did. But Lance took things so seriously. In a relationship
he gave his all, and if JC were completely honest, Lance's devotion to
making things work almost scared him. He was afraid that would let Lance
down; that he wouldn't be able to take the relationship seriously enough for
Lance and that they would both end up hurt. But he would definitely enjoy
spending *NSYNC's week off in Lance's house.

"I'm gonna make love to you in every room of that house," he whispered
breathlessly against Lance's neck, his fingers following a path down the fly
of Lance's jeans. One of Lance's hands travelled up to JC's shoulder and
squeezed rhythmically, the other still gripping JC's bicep. JC pulled his
head away and Lance raised his own, allowing them a moment of eye contact
before JC descended once more and their lips met. The image of Lance's face,
hair unstyled, forehead shining slightly with perspiration, pupils dilated
from alcohol and arousal, burned itself into JC's mind as he dragged his
lips gently back and forth across Lance's slightly opened mouth. Their
breaths mingled between them and Lance's tongue darted out to moisten JC's
lips when the older man increased the pressure of his hand stroking along
Lance's growing hardness.

"I'm gonna start in the Seuss room," JC continued, meeting Lance's tongue
with his own and closing his mouth over them both before drawing back for a
feather-light touch. "Right in that big plush chair in the corner, and on
the floor next to it in that soft carpet you have there..." He punctuated
his words by curling his fingers around the outline of Lance's erection
through the denim. Lance bit JC's lower lip not-so-gently in response, his
sharp exhalation tickling JC's cheek, and the mild pain sent a thrill
through JC; sliding his other hand up under the back of Lance's shirt, he
forced his tongue past Lance's lips and crushed his boy to him.

He suddenly found himself half-supporting Lance's weight as the blond
simultaneously tried to press his upper back into the wall while thrusting
his lower body against JC's. Lance's head lolled back when their kiss broke,
before rolling forward to rest his forehead against JC's shoulder, his
breathing even further laboured. JC went on. "We'll do it on the throw-rug
in front of the fireplace..."
*Awww, yeah, scream for me, babe.*
His hand slipped below Lance's erection, following the seam between his legs
to his buttocks and back up again, both pleased and excited by the way
Lance's hips followed his motions. "And then we'll move the damn rug and do
it right on the hardwood floor, babe." He sped up and pressed harder,
massaging Lance with the heel of his palm, and worked his other hand up
Lance's back to grip the nape of his neck. Mussing Lance's hair gently with
his fingers, JC pulled the blond's head back, forcing him into the wall and
falling up against him as he peppered Lance's face with eager kisses.

Lance whimpered into JC's mouth and JC drew back, the pace of his hand on
Lance's groin growing furious as he felt the pulsing begin against his palm.
Lance pressed his lips together to stifle any sound, but JC could feel a
groan building in his boy's chest and it ended up burying itself somewhere
in Lance's throat and it came out sounding like Lance was fucking *purring*
and JC *had* to kiss him then, had to *feel* that against him. He kissed
Lance until they were both breathless, until Lance's body had stopped
shuddering, until his eyelashes no longer fluttered against JC's cheek,
until his jeans grew damp in JC's hand, until JC felt that they could both
stand on their own again.

Kissing Lance again, JC savoured the salt of the perspiration dotting
Lance's upper lip. Breaking the kiss, he stepped slightly away from Lance
and caught the younger man's crooked, though shaky, grin. JC smiled back.
"My turn now?"

Lance's laugh was a short exhalation of air, his voice low and relaxed.
Practically a growl. "Yeah. Your turn." He pushed himself away from the wall
and strode back up the hallway, only slightly unsteady on his feet. Stepping
past Wes with a grateful smile, he turned to face JC as he placed his back
against the washroom door, winking a promise as he leaned into it and
stumbled inside.

JC didn't bother to fight the grin from his face as he, too, side-stepped
Wes in an attempt to get to the washroom, but was stopped by a large hand on
his arm.

"So... what, man? Am I guarding the bathroom for you boys too, now?" Wes
asked him, slight disapproval in his voice. JC understood the implication in
Wes's words; it was one thing to prevent club patrons from entering a dark
hallway to use the pay phone, but to keep people from the washroom? No one
would accept that.

JC shook his head, his body unable to stop tingling with anticipation. "Naw,
Wes, this one's on us. We'll be quiet." He was about to promise that they'd
be quick, too, but he wasn't so sure about that. "No one'll even know we're
in there," he said instead.

Wes placed a hand on JC's shoulder, his palm huge in drastic contrast with
JC's lean frame. "Be careful, aaight?"

JC nodded emphatically, his mind already on what Lance would have in store
for him, as he turned from the bodyguard and pushed open the door to meet
his lover.

**********

Get Away
Part 2 of 2: Touch
Copyright (C) 2000 Shayla-Shayla

Lance entered the washroom somewhat cautiously, checking to see how many
people were inside and trying not to appear as weak-kneed as he felt. There
were a couple of men at the urinals, lining one wall, and one was using the
sink on the wall perpendicular to that. JC came in after him, performing a
quick check under the doors of the stalls opposite to the urinals, and the
look on his face confirmed that they were all empty. Lance made his way to
the sinks slowly, turning on the tap and splashing his face with cold water
until everyone had left, and when he examined himself in the mirror he was
relieved to see that he didn't look quite so red-faced and sated anymore.

JC came up behind him, resting his hands easily on Lance's shoulders,
touching him lightly with teasing fingers. Straightening up and drying his
face, Lance grimaced into the mirror. He felt great, but a little gross; the
dampness in his jeans was beginning to cool, and the *during* was always
much more fun than the *after*. Still, he couldn't help but turn to JC,
examining him appreciatively before allowing his boy to tug him into the
stall furthest from the washroom door. Making sure to lock the door behind
them, Lance leaned up against JC, pressing him into the wall. JC tilted his
head and kissed Lance, his tongue battling for dominance within Lance's
mouth, and his hands slid around into Lance's back pockets, forcing their
hips together. Against his crotch Lance could feel JC's insistent hardness
pressing into him, and it sparked a familiar heat within his own body.

"How do you feel?" JC asked him, breathing more than speaking into Lance's
ear.

Lance grinned wickedly. "Wet."

JC pulled back, a slightly guilty look in his eyes, and Lance hushed him
before he could attempt to apologize. "But terrific," Lance assured him,
pressing his lips tenderly to JC's and allowing them to linger there until
JC relaxed against him. He reached his hands between their bodies,
unbuttoning the dark blue shirt he wore -- *silk? My _God_, JC* -- and
exposing the wifebeater undershirt beneath. Lance began to work at JC's belt
buckle, meeting JC for another kiss and slipping his tongue past the taller
man's lips as he unfastened the jeans with one hand and eased the zipper
down over JC's hardness.

Ignoring the inevitable for a moment, Lance focused his attentions on JC's
stomach, easing JC's undershirt up to expose the planes of hard muscle
(always so hard, so angular, all the places where Lance was softer, plumper.
Sometimes Lance wondered if the real reason why he didn't work out anymore
was so that he could maintain the contrast). Dipping his head, Lance licked
a path around JC's navel, blowing delicately on the wetness before closing
his lips over the area. He continued on, kissing a path down the trail of
dark hairs that led to the waistband of JC's underwear before pulling back.
JC braced one leg against the side of the toilet, one arm pressed against
the wall behind him to steady himself, while Lance knelt, easing the older
man's athletic shorts down, freeing his length and encircling the base with
his free hand.

"Talk to me, babe," Lance breathed, his mouth barely grazing JC's erection.
"What do you want me to do?" He dropped a kiss on the tip of JC's penis
before enveloping it within his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head
in lazy circles. Against his lips JC was warm steel draped in silk,
throbbing with a life of its own, and Lance revelled in the feel of it, the
scent, the very taste of JC.

Sliding the other hand up under JC's shirt, he pinched JC's nipple with a
light touch, allowing his boy to buck his hips slightly as he lowered his
mouth further onto the older man's erection. Applying a gentle suction for a
few more moments, Lance moved on to caress JC's length with slow, leisurely
strokes of his tongue, from base to tip. Under Lance's fingers, JC's nipple
was hard, and Lance could feel JC's heart thudding heavily in response to
the attention.

JC's breath hitched as he attemped to calm the gasping sighs that rose to
his throat. His words were almost lost amidst his accelerated breathing and
the rush of blood through Lance's ears. A breathy plea. "Deeper... God,
*please*..."

Widening his jaw slightly, Lance tried to take as much of JC into him as
possible. He never could really deep-throat like JC could -- *beautifully
so* -- but he could get about half in if he relaxed. He kneaded the base of
JC's erection, allowing the wetness from his mouth to lubricate his actions,
and JC moaned softly, thrusting gently into his mouth. Not letting up, Lance
moved his thumb downwards, skillfully massaging the soft orbs of flesh that
jumped anxiously under his touch.

There was a sound that didn't come from either of them. A different sound; a
foreign sound.

Lance froze as he thought he heard the washroom door swing open, and taking
the cue, JC bit his lip, attempting to quiet his breathing. When the
distinctive sound of footfalls reached Lance's ears, he lowered his forehead
to JC's stomach in frustration, JC's erection slipping from his mouth. He
straightened himself and slid his hand from JC's chest, gesturing for JC to
raise his other leg. The older man did so, bracing his foot against the
opposite wall of the stall, and Lance supported JC's weight with both hands
while he stood upright. If anyone were to peer beneath the stall door, they
would see nothing unusual; only one pair of shoes, standing.

When the sink tap stopped running and they heard the door open and close
again, Lance let out the breath he'd been holding, paralyzed with relief.
Widening his eyes and looking up at JC in appreciation of the close all,
Lance noticed that JC's eyes had already closed, waiting for Lance to resume
the gentle teasing. Lowering himself back to his knees, Lance went back to
caressing his lover's chest and smiled slightly, brushing his lips over JC's
length once more before going back down on him, following the motions of
JC's hips closely.

"Harder... ohhhh... *Laaaance*..."

JC swelled slightly in Lance's mouth, and against Lance's arm he could feel
the muscles in JC's abdomen begin to ripple. JC was close... Lance could
taste the droplets leaking onto his tongue and brought the hand on JC's
nipple down so that he could grip JC's waist tightly, pulling JC's hips
closer. JC pushed into him, harder now, and Lance closed his eyes, drawing
back in time with JC's thrusts. He felt JC's free hand snake its way to his
head, tugging on his hair, applying a desperate pressure, and he broke his
grasp on JC just long enough to grab the errant limb and bring it down to
his side. Increasing the pressure of his lips along JC's length, Lance
opened his eyes and didn't flinch when the first wave of musky fluid erupted
into his throat. Directing his gaze upwards, he watched his lover's face for
the expressions that overtook him.

There was a harsh, laboured gasp of air. A *thud* as the back of JC's head
contacted the wall. Fluttering eyelashes. Bitten lower lip. Slow trails of
sweat trickling from his sideburns. Eyebrows drawn up in the middle, weird
creases marring the smoothness of his forehead. Eyes blue; *so* blue, and so
clear that Lance didn't feel clich&eacute;d at all to say he felt like
drowning in them. JC was simply fucking *beautiful*.

Lance released him, moving back up JC's body, still touching him gingerly
about the hips. "JC," he whispered, suddenly breathless at the sight of him,
and the other man swallowed the sound, kissing him with small, desperate
caresses. *JC...* JC was on his lips and in his mouth and against his body
and under his hands and oh, *God*, Lance felt such need for JC that it
scared him. "I love you," he murmured, touching his forehead to JC's,
rubbing his nose against JC's cheek, brushing their lips together again.

"You know I love you," came the response, as JC tightened his grip on Lance,
beginning to catch his breath. And Lance *did* know.

They separated, Lance leaning back against the wall to allow JC the room to
adjust himself and re-fasten his jeans and belt before he unlocked the door.
Lance darted in for a quick peck against JC's cheekbone, and then stepped
out of the stall first, wiping his hands free of imaginary dust, onto his
jeans. Turning and walking backwards towards the exit, he reached out for
JC, linking his fingers within JC's own. *To hell with it,* he thought, *the
bathroom's still empty; it doesn't matter.* He only let go to push the
washroom door open.

Outside, Wes was still standing near the door, arms folded in the same
stance where they'd left him.

"Hey, man," JC greeted him, "I told you you didn't have to stick around --
hardly anybody was in there. Were we that long or something?" Lance thought
about it; he had no idea how long they'd taken.

Wes unfolded his arms and looked at them sternly. "Yeah, hardly anybody was
in there after I got *rid* of 'em, is what happened."

Lance and JC exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing, Lance was
sure. *Okay, Wes gets a raise.* He'd been turning people away? God bless
him. "How'd you get people to stay away?" JC inquired.

"I told 'em one of the toilets was flooding and a custodian was inside
trying to fix it," Wes explained.  "So I said there was a bathroom around
the corner--" he jerked his thumb to point behind him-- "so they should try
that one."

"There's a bathroom around the corner?" Lance asked, his brows furrowing in
a slight frown. He didn't remember seeing one, or he might have stopped in
there instead.

Wes shrugged. "Hell if I know," he chuckled thoughtfully. "Only one guy came
back to use this one, though. Come to think of it, he didn't look too happy
with me when he left," he observed, and Lance laughed, grateful that the man
hadn't snooped around when he saw that the washroom wasn't being serviced
after all.

He let JC lead the way back to the dance floor this time, but by now Lance
didn't want to dance very much anymore. All he really wanted to do was sit
at a booth and nurse a drink, sneaking little touches under the table with
his man and looking forward to the coming week, when they'd have time to
spend together at home. *Every room, huh?* he thought, his lips curving into
a grin. He didn't care if JC *never* moved in; he was there whenever he
could be. That spoke volumes, and that was all that really mattered to Lance
in the end. He considered suggesting that he and JC leave the club early
tonight and head back to the hotel, get a head start on that alone time. His
smile grew, JC's promise still echoing in his head. *Every room.* He
couldn't *wait* 'til next week.

The End.

**********

Loved it? Hated it? Please let me know what you think!
Shayla-Shayla : sshayla@hotmail.com