Soft Rain
JC always closes his eyes when he sings, head thrown back and so immersed in the music that nothing, no-one can touch him. Lance thinks he could stare at JC for hours when he's like that; it's addictive to watch him, passion written all over his face.
Lance knows he can make JC look like that too, and it's a heady feeling: like good champagne or a really good show. He knows what it takes to get JC to look debauched, his head thrown back, mouth wide open and his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
It's just so damn easy. All it takes is for Lance to grab him straight after the show and push him against a wall, backstage. One lick to his collarbone and JC's whimpering, thrusting his hips forward and trying to gain some sort of friction. Lance'll hold back, avoiding contact for just a moment before pushing forward, holding JC's ass and grinding oh so slowly against him, a shiver passing through Lance's body as he feels hardness and heat.
Lance licks up the long slender column of JC's neck and presses his mouth to JC's ear, lips just resting there as he whispers.
"So fucking sexy, JC. God, you looked amazing out there."
"Hunh?"
Lance smiles. It's so easy to make JC so beautifully incoherent. When Lance slides his hand in between their bodies, thumb sliding down the length of JC's cock through his pants, JC throws his head back even further and moans slow and hungry. Lance can feel himself get harder, because there's nothing hotter than JC looking and sounding so wanton. Nothing at all.
"Shit. You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Lance leans in closer; so close he can actually see the sweat beading on JC's upper lip, which he has to lick before continuing. "You looked fucking incredible tonight, JC. So hot. You made me want to just push you down on the stage and fuck you all night. Slow. Hard. Just how you like it."
"Lance... god, you... fuck..."
They always get interrupted before they can get any further. Usually it's Justin, and Lance always jumps away from JC as if he's been burned. Doesn't want any of the others to know that this is what they get up to, because then it wouldn't be their secret anymore and this, the threat of being discovered, makes it so much sweeter.
Limo ride to the after-party and Lance is so fucking hard he can't think. He almost wishes they'd gone straight back to the hotel, but there's something to be said about postponing the inevitable, making it last.
JC looks like he's faring worse. Lance catches JC glancing over every few minutes and he focuses his gaze on JC. Lance spreads his legs slightly, his hand rubbing slowly up and down between his thighs as he licks his upper lip.
He hears JC's sharp intake of breath and he looks down, laughing silently. When he looks up again, JC is engaged in conversation with Chris, laughing just a bit louder than usual and trying desperately not to look at Lance.
It's just all so fucking obvious.
JC's lack of control, his inability to cope with being in the same place as Lance, makes Lance even more aroused. As he closes his eyes he sees images of the two of them, naked, slick and writhing, tattooed behind his eyelids.
It's a long fucking ride to the party.
JC wonders what people would say if they knew Lance the way he does. Lance has the reputation for being the sensible one, the nice one, the one whom most mothers would feel comfortable with their daughters dating.
But that's the public Lance.
The private Lance is so very different and it's this Lance that drives JC completely fucking insane.
Like right now. A room full of people and JC can see Lance walking towards him. Okay, walking's probably not the best way to describe the way Lance is moving. It's more like Lance is a predator stalking his next meal, which happens to be JC.
Nothing new there.
JC finds himself backed into the corner and Lance is so close JC can feel warm breath on his face. He never quite knows what Lance is going to do, and that's all part of the appeal. That uncertainty.
Green eyes that seem much darker than they did before, and Lance doesn't break eye contact for one second as he sips slowly from the champagne flute he's holding. JC exhales audibly as Lance swallows, tongue slowly swiping across his upper lip.
"Mmm. Do you know what I love about champagne, JC?"
JC just shakes his head. He hates how Lance always reduces him to utter incoherence, but there's something about that deep, southern voice that seems to mesmerise him.
JC 's breath hitches as Lance dips two fingers into the flute, drenching them with liquid, and lifts the fingers to his own mouth, slowly licking the champagne from them. JC's cheeks flush with heat and as he swallows, his tongue feels thick in his mouth. Arousal is beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach, that sweet roll of lust and need.
God, Lance is a fucking tease. His head's thrown back as he sucks on his fingers and he's moaning softly, mouth open wantonly. JC wishes fervently that they weren't at a party surrounded by people, because all he wants to do right now is push Lance against the wall. Hold him there and see if he can't wipe that smirk from his face, grind against him until he comes, screaming JC's name.
And that image really isn't helping him with the arousal issue, either.
JC whimpers as Lance takes another sip: tongue moving across his upper lip and he rubs his lips together, slowly.
Lance moves in closer, so there's barely any space separating the two of them. Low, deep voice in JC's ear and JC can feel Lance's mouth on his earlobe, hint of teeth grazing it.
"I think it's the taste I love the most." Long lick up the side of his neck and JC's groaning. "Sweet and sticky on my tongue, just like you. I wonder how you'd taste if I poured this on you, which part of you would taste the sweetest. I sure would like to find out, C."
Lance is rocking his hips forward now and JC can feel how hard Lance is. JC feels like he's losing control, so much heat and his head's starting to spin, beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip. It's just all too much. Lance's mouth is warm and wet and his voice... oh God, his voice is driving him crazy.
Lance dips a finger into the glass again, but this time he rubs the alcohol slowly over JC's bottom lip and smiles as JC removes the drops of liquid with his tongue. "So fucking gorgeous. If you could only see yourself." Lance traces the outline of JC's mouth with his thumb, "Such a pretty mouth. So fuckable."
JC knows that too much more and he's going to completely lose control. He puts his hand on Lance's chest and pushes him back gently so he has some room to breathe. "God, Lance. Can we just get the fuck out of here, please?"
Lance just laughs and starts to walk away. JC stands there, watching the way Lance's hips sway and thinking how great his ass looks in those pants, until Lance turns around and shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Well? What're ya waiting for, C? An invitation?"
"Bitch," JC mutters under his breath as they leave the party.
The ride back to the hotel with Chris may have seemed never-ending, but the elevator ride feels even longer. Lance turns and presses himself against JC's side, making sure JC can feel his cock pressing into him and inching his fingers under the hem of JC's shirt. Pad of his thumb rubbing JC's back in small circles, and Lance resists the temptation to dip lower, under the waistband of JC's pants.
The waiting makes it so much better.
When they finally make it to their floor, Chris is still hyper, like he always is after a show. He wants to sit up and drink more tequila, watch some porn, but when JC yawns so convincingly and Lance mutters some excuse about working on budgets, Chris drops the subject. He grumbles that he really needs to find some friends who have lives, and why didn't he stay at the party with Joey, anyhow.
As soon as Chris disappears into his own room, Lance's hands are on JC: one in his pocket reaching for the keycard and opening the door, the other gripping his waistband, pulling JC inside.
No chance for JC to react as Lance pushes him against the inside of the door, and then the two of them are kissing. Lance feels like he's falling, drowning as JC sucks noisily on his tongue. Lance gets one knee in between JC's thighs and just... rubs. So much fucking heat that he feels light-headed and then he's pulling away slightly, thumb rubbing JC's swollen lower lip.
JC gets his hands under the hem and starts to pull his shirt up over his belly, but Lance puts out a hand to stop him.
"Wait." Lance licks his lips and walks over to the fridge, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the cooler. He uncorks it and moves over to the sofa, places the bottle on the table and leans back, spreading his legs.
"Come here." Crooking a finger, Lance manages to get some kind of control, some sense of calm back into his voice, but he knows it won't last long. Not with the memory of that strip of skin he saw before he stopped JC stripping. Smooth, salty skin he can touch and taste.
What seems like miles and miles of it and it's all his to touch and taste.
JC feels like he's walking through molasses. Everything is thick, constricted, like he's travelling in slow motion and his limbs aren't capable of moving of their own accord. It's always the same when he's with Lance, arousal making him slow, languid.
He finally reaches the sofa and Lance pulls JC forward into his lap.
JC straddles him, thighs on either side of Lance's hips, and he pushes his own hips forward, trying to gain some friction. He can feel Lance's cock through his pants, as well as the hard muscle of Lance's thighs. People forget just how strong Lance is, mistake him for merely young and pretty, but JC knows. Knows Lance's body like he knows his own, and JC is well aware of its power.
Lance reaches for the bottle of champagne, which JC thinks looks so cold against Lance's fingers that it might burn. It doesn't, but he's confused as to what Lance's game is this time.
That's nothing new, though.
Lance lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a gulp. One finger under JC's chin pulls him forward and now Lance is covering JC's mouth with his own. JC opens his mouth, inhaling deeply through his nose and Lance pushes his tongue in, guiding the cool, fizzy liquid into JC's mouth.
The combination of the alcohol mixed with Lance's kisses is intoxicating. Lance kisses like it's not just preamble, that the kisses are enough and don't have to lead to anything else. It makes JC's stomach roll over with sweet want. He's dizzy. Light-headed.
Lance's slides his tongue over JC's with long, slow strokes, taking the time to glide over teeth and hard palate. Tastes so sweet, and JC feels like he could come from this alone. He remembers the first night he and Lance got together, how they made out on JC's sofa like they were a couple of desperate virgins, both coming in their jeans from doing nothing more than kissing and rubbing against each other.
But that was a long time ago, and as much as he thinks he could do nothing but kiss Lance all night, he wants to do a whole lot more than that.
JC sinks to the floor. Runs his hands up over tightly muscled thighs encased in leather, until he reaches Lance's waistband. He starts to unfasten Lance's trousers with shaky fingers, but Lance bats JC's hands away and pulls him up so he's once again standing.
JC tilts his head, confused, and a little hurt, too, but Lance is pulling him in, hands on his ass, grinding their crotches together. Whispering in JC's ear, "Hey, relax, JC. I just don't want to come from you blowin' me tonight, is all."
Lance's voice is always amazing; deep and rich, but when he's aroused there's something more, something JC only gets to hear when they're alone. A harsh, broken tone.
Lance sounds like sex.
But then again, when isn't Lance all about sex? There's something about the way Lance moves, the way he talks, that suggests he is always ready to fuck.
Lance pulls JC's shirt over his head, and JC's knees turn to liquid as Lance starts to tongue his collarbone, hot and wet and rough. JC 's so glad he's known Lance for as long as he has, there's something amazing about sleeping with someone who knows exactly what to do to JC to get him worked up.
Lance pulls him across the room toward the bed and stands there, flicking his tongue over JC's neck as he traces the outline of JC's cock with his fingers. "Off." Lance hisses, the fingers of his other hand inching under JC's waistband and JC almost shudders as he can feel them on his skin. Cool, elegant fingers.
"Off...what? What do we say, Lance?"
Lance grins and turns him around, so JC is facing the bed and Lance is directly behind him. JC can feel Lance's cock pressing against him, against his ass, and he rocks back. Lance snakes one arm around JC and pulls him back even further, so they're so close that JC can feel Lance's breath on his neck. Warm breath causing the hairs on his arms to prickle.
Lance's lips rest on his neck again and when he speaks, JC feels the vibrations through his whole body and he shivers. "What do we say? Hmmm. Well, I guess I could say please. Or thank you." Lance pauses, clucking his tongue like he's thinking. "Or how about: I want you to take off your clothes now. Why? Because I want to fuck you so hard you can't see straight. That work for you, JC?" Lance trails his tongue down JC's neck: slow, lascivious and JC can't hold back the long, drawn-out moan that escapes from him and he sounds easy, desperate. Like one of the girls from Joey's substantial porn collection. "Yeah... oh yeah, Lance..."
Lance starts in on his zipper, and JC pushes Lance away, then toes his shoes off and pulls pants and boxers and socks off so he's quickly naked. Lance laughs, "I don't ever think I've seen you move so fast, JC."
Smug. Fucking. Bitch.
JC grabs Lance by the hair and pushes his tongue into Lance's mouth, tasting him with long, slow strokes of his tongue. Lance moans into his mouth and grabs JC's ass, pulling him in, tight, so that JC can feel how hard Lance is, even through his clothes.
Something so fucking hot about that, too. The fact that JC's completely naked and Lance hasn't even made a move to take off one item of clothing.
JC backs away from Lance and gets up onto the bed. Moves back until he's pushed up against the headboard and spreads his legs, resisting the urge to touch himself. He knows how easily he could come from the combination of his fingers wrapped around himself and that look of pure, unadulterated lust on Lance's face, and it'd be over too soon. Too fucking soon.
"Have you... had enough champagne?"
Lance laughs. "Baby, one can never have enough champagne. But ... you taste better." He takes off his boots and socks and pulls his shirt over his head.
Not as good as you, JC thinks. There's no sign of the thin, feminine teenager Lance used to be, he's all sculpted lines and golden skin now and JC wants to suck and lick and just fucking taste him.
Lance undoes his pants and moves to pull them down. JC shakes his head furiously and Lance looks puzzled, voice slightly terse. "What?"
JC inches down the bed a little. "I... leave them on. Please."
Lance's mouth twists into a smirk, "So, you like me in leather, huh?" He crawls up onto the bed, moving up JC's body: slowly, gracefully, like the predator he is. As he moves up, JC can feel the leather of Lance's pants brushing against him: smooth, slippery, like butter. He's doing it on purpose of course, JC knows how devious Lance can be and he never does anything without a reason.
When it comes to Lance, nothing is accidental.
One knee on either side of him and Lance is straddling JC's hips. He kisses him once, nibbling on JC's lower lip before pulling back. JC can't help but stare at Lance; his eyes are dark, lust-tinged and he's unbelievably fucking beautiful when he's like this.
"Turn over."
So much power in that voice and JC turns over, shivering out of sheer anticipation. He totally understands why Lance is so successful in business, because no one in their right mind could surely resist those tones dripping over them like honey: thick, rich and sweet. It's times like this when JC finds it easy to forget that Lance is still so young.
JC shivers when Lance moves on top of him, leather brushing against his skin again. Lance's mouth is on his neck and JC can feel his warm breath; it feels like it's searing his skin. Lance moves slowly down JC's body, tracing his tongue slowly down JC's backbone, pausing when he reaches his lower back. Now JC can feel Lance just mouthing the curve of his back, open-mouthed kisses followed by Lance's tongue tracing that groove over and over, getting deeper and deeper each time. Then JC's moaning, whimpering out loud as Lance spreads him open, licking slowly up and down the cleft of his ass. Long, wet strokes, before... Christ... pushing inside him.
So much fucking heat and JC 's head is reeling. He rubs himself against the sheets, head thrown back, hips thrusting involuntarily. Pushing himself back onto Lance's tongue, Lance's tongue that's plunging inside of him. Fucking him. Long, slow and dirty and so goddamn hot and when Lance moves away, JC whimpers like he's lost something.
Lance rolls him over gently and slides two slick fingers into him, and now JC's no longer whimpering from the loss, but from the sensation as Lance pushes into him. JC moves his hips forward and back, slow grind and he's fucking himself on Lance's fingers. He groans his assent when Lance breathlessly asks him if he's ready.
Lance pushes into him and JC exhales roughly. He feels stretched, filled and unbelievably good and as Lance starts to move slowly, JC raises his head to Lance's chest, tongue circling a nipple.
"Mmmmm, C. So. Fucking. Good."
Lance moans and JC's stomach rolls over with pure lust as Lance thrusts into him, slow and deep. There's something so fucking hot about the way Lance moans. It's almost animal-like, primal and JC thinks that if any of their fans knew what Lance sounded like pre- orgasm, they'd probably never leave their bedrooms and Lance's vocals on 'Everything I Own' would be on CD players everywhere, on repeat.
Lance is thrusting harder now. Long, full strokes pulling almost all the way out before slamming right back in, hard, relentless. Lance's breath is quickening; getting shallower as he fucks him and JC knows that Lance can't last much longer.
JC feels slick, lubed fingers curl around his cock and Lance's broken, ragged words pouring into his ear, the same rhythm as his thrusts, "Fuck my hand, C. Wanna see you do yourself."
JC moves so he's thrusting into the tight channel Lance has made with his hand. Hips moving faster and faster and Lance is kissing him: wet, open-mouthed. JC doesn't last long at all, just a few strokes. Everything he feels right now is so fucking intense. Lance has been playing with him, touching him, making him burn and ache and need for what seems like hours. He can feel himself sinking, falling, and everything's heat and wet and so fucking good. His head falls back, his fingers twist in the sheets and JC's coming: moaning, whimpering, begging for god knows what.
Lance's breath catches and he thrusts into JC one more time before he comes uttering words that sound like 'JC' and 'fuck' and other words that JC will never say he heard, because he knows that Lance will pretend he didn't say them. Couldn't have said them.
But JC knows better.