FIC: Precious Illusions, 2/2

[beanside]

I wasn't in any way ready for the tongue that swiped along my lower lip, teasing me in return. I lift my head, and the shock must be written on my face. "What, you thought you were in charge?"

"Something like that."

This time, it's his hand that slides around my neck, pulling me back down, taking control.

And I let him, leaning into the kiss, letting his tongue tease, darting in my mouth to brush along the roof, stroking over my upper lip. Suddenly, having him on my lap is becoming very uncomfortable. He seems to know, shifting so that he's straddling my legs, rocking his hips against mine.

It's this light, barely there motion that's maddening. I can feel his cock though the tented material of his khakis.

"Fuck," I gasp, looking up into his eyes. He's still smiling, that same intense grin. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, and he's loving every fucking second of it.

It takes me a moment to realize that he's said something, but it finally sinks in. "Here, or on a bed. Your choice, but make it quickly."

"Bed," I gasp, biting back a whimper as he slides off my lap, offering his hand.

As I follow him to the bed, it strikes me how tall he really is. Almost as tall as James, but without as much of the bulk to make it imposing.

As soon as we're in the bedroom, I find myself pushed against the door, his lips coming down on mine, his knee nudging between my legs.

Oh, god. He's way too good at this. Tongue lapping lightly over my lips, then sliding down, kissing at the pulse in my neck, teeth nipping just hard enough for that little jolt of pain that runs straight down to my cock.

I know I'm moaning, and clutching at his back. I'm also practically humping his leg. It's pressed just right against my crotch, so if I just tilt my hips, I can get enough friction to--

He steps back, and I let out an entirely unwilling moan of protest.

If that smile weren't so genuine, I'd smack it off his face, I swear. Before I can think any more about the implications of that thought, he's sliding his hands under my shirt, tugging it over my head.

I've never been embarrassed about my body before now. Fuck, I'm almost forty, I'm entitled to a little pudge, right? But he's so toned and tanned, and I'm…..not.

I can feel myself blushing. It's not pretty.

Lance doesn't seem to be noticing, running his fingers over my chest and shoulders, bending to nip at the base of my neck.

I arch against him, something close to a fucking whimper slipping out of my throat. His fingers find my nipples, dragging his thumbs over them lightly, and I'm suddenly fighting the urge to beg.

He lifts his head until his mouth is next to my ear, and starts murmuring softly to me. For such a sweet face, he's whispering some of the dirtiest things I've ever heard, and he's doing it in that Voice.

I had no idea that a skinny white boy could have a voice like that. It's more vibration than sound, whispering over my skin, touching.

"Mmm…you like that," he purrs. "I can feel how hard you are already, and we're just getting started."

"Lance-"

"We'll get there. This is how we do it in the South," he drawls. "Slow, and hard, and…..hot." On the last word, his hand slides over my stomach, down to cup me.

If he doesn't hurry up, I'm not going to survive this. "Please," I mewl.

"Sssh. I told you, slow and hot. First, I'm going to slide these pants down, and then, I'm going to taste that hard cock I can feel." His fingers squeeze me lightly to punctuate this. "And then, when you're begging, I'm going to slide inside you so slow, so deep. And I'm going to fuck you," he adds.

I moan helpfully.

"Like that, huh? Slow and hard and deep."

This shouldn't be doing this to me. I've had more groupies, both male and female than I can count, but I never remember being turned on like this.

My pants slide down over my hips and his hand is suddenly there, sliding over my skin, cupping my balls, stroking over my foreskin lightly. It seems to fascinate him. He's teasing it, sliding it back gently so his thumb can brush that spot just beneath the head.

God, feels too good. He's still watching me with those pale green eyes, and fuck, if he doesn't stop I'm going to disgrace myself the way I haven't in years.

He steps back the moment I start to tense, shaking his head. "Not a chance. When you come, it's going to be in my mouth, got it?"

"Tell that to my dick," I manage.

He grins wickedly, tugging his shirt off as he kneels down.

I shudder as warm breath touches me a moment before his tongue laps a path over the head of my cock. "Fuuuck."

"Not yet," he whispers, lifting his head so I can see him slide two fingers into his mouth, wetting them.

I start to make a noise in my throat that could only be described as a whimper, but without warning, his mouth engulfs me, and it turns into a strangled moan.

Oh god, so good. I think I'm moaning, I know I've got my fingers in his hair, asking for more, and he's giving it, sucking and licking hard, tongue finding all the right places to drive me insane.

His finger brushes over my entrance, sliding in, angling just--there--and I lose it, shuddering, begging, nearly sobbing as the pleasure shatters through me, leaving me somehow sitting on the floor as he cleans me off.

An aftershock makes my breath catch hard, and he glances up, for the first time looking uncertain. "You okay?"

I nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I'm fine."

His answering grin is entirely too smug. Oh, it's definitely time for some fucking payback.

He laughs as I push myself away from the wall, toppling him over onto his back. "My turn," I mutter, bending to nibble at one sharp collarbone. There's a red scar along the edge of his chest, and I trace that, too. "What happened?"

"Surgery. I had an irregular heartbeat, apparently." He turns away so that the scar is on the side away from me.

"You don't have to--"

He snorts softly. "It's okay, I know I'm not all that much to look-"

I can't help it, the laugh bubbles out of me. "You're not much to look at? Oh, come on!"

He blinks at me, and I realize that he's serious.

"I'm pretty vague on what the rest of your band looks like, but I'm assuming that some of them are really pretty?" I wait for his cautious nod. "I wouldn't like them. Pretty doesn't get you very far with me." He shivers as I slide a finger over one tight nipple. "Sexy as all fuck, now that gets you places."

He smiles again. "Does it get me in your ass?"

"Definitely. But first, I get to play."

He nods, and slips out from under me, going to his bag and rummaging. "What're you doing?" I ask.

He turns back around, holding up a familiar foil packet. "I--" He shrugs.

"What, that just occurred to you?"

To my surprise, he blushes, looking down. "It's really not much of a risk, the bacteria in spit will kill most viruses, and-"

"So it's okay for you to take that risk, but not me?"

"I wasn't sure how to put a condom on someone who isn't circumcised!" he blurts suddenly, blushing even harder.

I stare for a moment. "You what?"

"I wasn't sure. And I didn't want to ask. That's just not cool."

"You'd rather get AIDS than not be cool?" Oh, he's not that fucking dumb. Please God, tell me he's not that fucking dumb.

"Of course not! Like I said, it's minimal."

I shake my head. "Tomorrow morning, before we leave, I'm showing you how to do it. I don't want you dead because you're stubborn."

"Fine," he growls.

I cross over to him, running my fingertips down his arm. "I'm sorry. I just--I want you to live to be a bitter ex-boybander."

"I'm planning on it," he says.

"Good. Now get your ass on that bed."

He smirks at me, slowly undoing the buttons on his jeans, letting them fall to the floor. Oh, my. That's a very nice body. If I wasn't almost forty, that would be a body worth getting hard again over. "Fuck. I had no idea what kind of body you were hiding under all those idiot costumes."

He blushes a little, and I let my hand slide up the inside of his leg, teasing along the tight muscles.

The bed sinks under my weight as I climb onto it, crawling over to him to press a hard kiss to his lips. I can taste myself on his lips, along with a sweet musky flavor that definitely suits him.

It's not real graceful, but I shift to straddle his legs, moving down over his body, licking at his throat until he shivers, arching with something approaching a purr.

"You like that, huh? How about this?" I sink my teeth into the muscle, and he makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob.

"Harder," he moans.

Oh, really? I'm more than happy to comply, sliding a hand up to pinch a nipple hard.

"Yeah, god, so good," he breathes.

Someone's kinkier than they were letting on, methinks.

I shift down again, moving to lick and nip at his nipples until he's shivering constantly, moaning low in his throat.

A little further down, and I'm at eye level with his cock. He pushes the condom at me, and I reluctantly take it and the little tube of Wet.

A quick dab on the head makes him squirm, and me grin. The condom rolls into place as he thrusts into my touches.

Oh, yeah, that's very nice. I bend down slowly licking a path over the latex, feeling him hard and hot beneath. Surprisingly strong fingers knot in my hair, urging me down, needing more.

Even with the latex, I can feel every movement, his pulse beating frantically under my tongue.

I'll admit, I'm going on instinct here. I'm paying more attention to that voice. Jesus fucking Christ.

He's moaning, begging me for more, begging for anything that'll put him over the edge. It takes me a few moments to realize that yes, miracles do happen, cause I'm practically humping his shins, hard as a rock again. Fuck me.

I could keep this up for longer, but not without one of us going over the edge. Since I'm acting like a seventeen-year-old, it'll probably me, so no.

A quick coating of lube, and he's ready to go.

He shudders as I crawl back up his body, until our lips are an inch apart. "Do you want me to ride you?" I breathe.

He moans softly, managing a nod. "Please, need to come."

I'm still moderately flexible, thankfully. I stretch back, positioning him as I slowly settle onto his cock.

"Please," his voice is thready, raw. His manager is going to kill me.

"Oh, no. I'm going to show you how we do it in Denmark," I murmur, pulling an unwilling smile from him.

"I didn't know they still used torture over there," he gasps.

I give him a dark, predatory smirk, and let my weight slam me down onto him.

God, he's bigger than he looks. Feels so fucking good, been so long since it was worth it to go this far.

Lance's face is tight, lip pulled between his teeth. His fingers are digging into my thighs, like he's trying to get deeper somehow.

I wait for that first shock to dissipate before I start to move on him, my own hand finding my renewed erection and stroking hard.

It doesn't take long at all. The only question of it is which of us is going first.

I'm not being real fucking gentle anymore. I couldn't if I tried. My world has narrowed to the pale green eyes fixed on me, the smell of sweat and sex, and the feeling of his hard cock sliding inside me.

The pleasure is amazing, riding that tight line between perfect and too much. I'm slamming down on him, taking him harder than I can ever remember before, and he's arching his hips, finding that spot that threatens to take the world supernova all at once.

A loud moan slips from him, and he bucks beneath me hard, his entire body going wire tense. His eyes widen, almost startled looking as he gasps and mewls, fingers clawing for purchase on anything he can reach, me, the sheets, whatever.

For a moment, I hate that fucking condom like nothing else on earth. I want to feel him coming in me.

Then, my hand falters and I'm screaming his name, shuddering until I think I'll fucking break something.

Then I'm lying on him, and his arms are around me, that hoarse deep voice whispering how hot I am, how good, and I'm thinking something did break in me, that would explain the vague ache at the back of my throat.

I slide off him, and he gets up for a moment, tossing the condom in the trash. Without his body heat, the bed is cold, leaving me shivering. Then, he's back, and I curl into him, half asleep before he pulls the blanket up over us.

I'm not used to feeling like this. Protected, like for once, there's someone standing between the fucking world and me.

I can barely admit it to myself, but I think I like it. I doze off with my head on his shoulder, and a grin on my face. I fucked a boybander. Go figure.

I'm not sure what wakes me, but even before my eyes open, I know that I'm alone. Mind you, that doesn't stop me from calling his name. "Lance?"

Nope, no one here.

There's a piece of paper stuck on my bag, written in a hasty scrawl.

"Lars, The airport called, one of the planes got in around four, and they asked me if I could be there by five to leave. You looked exhausted, so I let you sleep. I hope you don't mind. Your plane will be ready at nine thirty for you.

Last night was…..really special. I get the feeling that you don't let your guard down often. Hell, neither of us can afford to in our business. I'll remember it. I know you're not looking for anything permanent, so don't worry. I'm not going to mess things up.

Take care of yourself, and keep ahead of the Machine. I will too. See you at next years awards shows.

Lance."

I re read it like a schoolgirl crush. "That….fucker! He thinks he can just slip out like a thief in the night? Oh, no fucking way."

Before I can stop to think, I'm on my flight. That would be my flight to Seattle, mind you.

No, I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. Fuck off.

No, I don't know what I'm going to do when I get there.

No, I don't know why it's so fucking important. It just is.

In a way, this is unbelievably freeing. It's been a long time since I just went for something completely odd, just because I wanted to. Years.

Everything's been regimented, and carefully ordered for so many years. I think for a while, I forgot how to do this, how to go with what my heart tells me.

It's amazing, the difference it makes in a person. I'm sitting on this plane, and even though I know it makes no sense, and that I'm just asking to get kicked, I feel…..free.

We land in Seattle around one, thanks to a shit weather pattern over the Midwest. I get to the venue around two and manage to bullshit my way in. From there, it's easy sailing. It turns out that we share more than a cynical outlook on life. We also have the same pyro guy.

Go figure.

We stand there chatting until the band comes stumbling offstage, laughing, surfing an adrenaline high. I can't help the smile that creeps onto my face. Lance is sweaty, grinning at something one of his bandmates said.

He's not the first one who notices me, that honor goes to one of the dark haired ones. Joey, I think.

He half skids to a stop, staring, then he elbows one of the others. "Dude, isn't that Lars Ulrich from Metallica?"

The other one turns, and beyond him, I see Lance freeze.

"Whoa. We're not worthy, we're not worthy," they chant.

Lance turns slowly, and I wait. He's either going to be glad to see me, or horrified. It cuts down on my potential reactions quite a bit.

For a moment, his face is slack, and I feel my heart sink. Shit.

Then, he brightens, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Lars! What the hell are you doing here?" he asks.

"After our chat last night, I figured I'd come up and see you in action," I say carefully, not sure if he wants his bandmates to know.

"Oh really?" he murmurs. "And what did you think?"

I smile gently. "I think you're a hell of a lot more athletic than any of the bands I know."

"Athletic, huh? I can live with that," he smirks.

"I'm not going to lie and tell you that I love the music, but I respect it."

He nods slightly. "Okay."

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" I drop my voice to an undertone.

"Yeah, lemme shower and we'll go grab food, or something."

I nod and he wanders back over to his bandmates. I hear him murmur something about a band and opening acts. Smooth.

When he comes back, he's alone. "What excuse did you give them?"

"I told them that you were touring next year, and we were trying to work out a deal for one of the bands on my label to open for you." He tilts his head a little. "Is that okay? I mean, you're not exactly outed, are you?"

"No, I'm not. And it's fine."

"Can we--" He breaks off on a sigh. "I don't even know why you're here."

"Yeah. Me either. I'd planned on being a few hundred miles to the south right about now." I run my hand through my hair. "I don't fucking know. I just. I wanted to see you."

"I didn't say I was upset about it," he assures me. "I felt kind of weird leaving. I didn't want you to think I was ashamed, like you were a tawdry one night stand."

"Does it have to be a one night anything?"

He stares at me, unblinking for a moment. "Of all the things I didn't expect to hear….."

"I know. But I like you. It's the first time in forever that I've felt fucking alive again. I don't want to lose that."

"Are you asking me to go steady?" he asks, a quirk touching his lips.

I find myself smiling back. "Do you have to put it like that? Yeah, I'd like to have something with you. I don't know about steady or anything. It's not like neither of us are used to traveling. We can alternate, meet in the middle, whatever."

Jesus, I sound fucking desperate.

He doesn't seem to notice, thank fuck. "We could try that, yeah." He smiles, ushering me to his car and sliding in.

I slip in, dazedly imagining Kirk's reaction to my dating a boy band member. "I think we should probably keep it quiet, though. Y'know, from everyone. Just in case."

"Good plan."

I settle back in the seat, relaxing and enjoying the feeling of letting someone else drive for a change. This could be interesting.

Fuck yeah.

The end.

Comments

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

*blink* *double blink* I don't know what's more worrying is that you actually wrote that or that you made it work well enough that I like to see just where this ends up going. I can't believe I just said that.

*shakes head* Good grief. There's something very disquietening about that thought. *g*

This was just I dunno...I don't wanna use the word hot but it does cover it. *g*

Seeing Lars allowing down his guard and showing some vulnerability specially to someone he doesn't know from Adam is odd and endering. You find similarities and common ground in the most interesting of places.

While I'm not applauding Nix and Cari for this *g* I'll heartedly encourage them if they can get more of the same out of you. :-)

[caarirose.livejournal.com]

My fault? Would I, little old me, pimp Nsync musi?

You can stop laughing now. I still can't believe I did this. I still can't believe you've got me to the point where I actually might possibly somewhat know who is who.

I do still like this though. Lars seeing himself before he grew so hard, Lance finding somebody that's been where he seems to be headed. Both of them getting to be themselves, at least this once.

And the best thing? I don't have to poke too hard for a sequel because the Double L's have already started it! *bounce*

[o-contrary.livejournal.com]

*looks up, searching the skies* There were an awful lot of asteroid mentions on the news tonight...

And, then, this.

Armageddon has arrived, y'all. ;)

I was caught between amusement, since I am indeed perverse to look at this pairing and go 'ohmygod, that'd be so fucking priceless', and a grudging (but it's a boyband! my inner metalhead wails...) desire to 'Sqee!' my way through it. There aren't many who could pull this off so well, Tee, but this is a few steps closer to 'really fucking good'.

And *shifty eyes* if I were to be forced to pick an N'Sync member to write about (no. Just... no.) it'd be Lance. Go, underdogs. *g*

[ctbn60.livejournal.com]

Wow this reminded me of how much I miss your writing. Interesting pairing tho and I can't believe how well it worked.

Brava