by Lesa Soja
Lance found that he kept thinking of things in terms of what he could and couldn't say anymore afterwards. For example, after the release party he could still say that he had never kissed a guy, because the resounding smack on his cheek had been Chris kissing him, and not the other way around. But later on, after New York, he could no longer say that, because even though Joey was the one who had grabbed him, Lance knew he had responded, and he was trying to be honest about it.
For a while Lance thought he could still say he had never kissed anyone who smoked. But then he went out to the parking lot after a rehearsal and saw Joey leaning against the side of the building and had to scratch that too.
Sometimes things happened that felt like they ought to be counted, although they didnít quite fit under any of the items on the list. Lance was at JC's house once watching television, and Justin came through the living room, unstrapping his weightlifting gloves. He saw Lance looking at his hands and clapped Lance on the cheek as he went by. Lance didn't have a category for that, but the sting of Justin's splayed fingers on his skin stayed with him for a long time.
Other things were easier to sort out. On a day when wardrobe had given Lance another pair of too-tight pants, he ran into Chris just outside the dressing room, and Chris actually laid his hand against Lance's zipper and said, "Whatcha packin' there, Scoop?" But a few squeezes did not a hand job make, so Lance could still say no guy had ever done that to him.
On the other hand, he had opened his eyes once in the middle of the night and seen Joey standing stock-still in the aisle between the bunks, and when he whispered, "Joe?", Joey turned around, and Lance held out his hand, and Joey climbed in with him. Joey pushed a little till Lance turned on his side and then pressed up against Lance's back, his beard brushing Lance's shoulder. His legs and arms were trembling. "Joey," Lance whispered again, but there was no answer. And Joey was gone when Lance woke up. Nonetheless, Lance considered he could no longer say he had never slept with a guy. Just sleeping, he meant.
He had to laugh at himself sometimes because he didn't really know who he was thinking he would say any of this to. In the period before something happened, he didn't necessarily feel the need to make any announcements about it. And afterwards, well, they got asked a lot of questions on a lot of different subjects, but management wouldn't let the ones about their level of experience get into that kind of detail. Once Lance got asked which male celebrity he thought was sexy, but that wasn't the same thing. His answer was purely theoretical, and had nothing to do with what he had or hadn't actually done, or with who. Apart from that, the closest they seemed to get was "Are you dating anyone?", and to that he could honestly say, "No."
Justin shimmied up to him on the dance floor, moving closer and closer and they were touching, thighs brushing over each other, a press against his chest. Before Lance could think anything about that, warmth slid up behind him too, hands reaching around to take his, and he would know JC's arms anywhere. JC pulled Lance's arms out into a wingspan, and Justin's hands ran down his sides. Lance stopped trying to dance and just let them move him how they wanted. They swayed forwards and back. Justin's fingers brushed up under his throat. JC was hard. Then Justin put his hand on Lance's cheek and straightened his arm, putting space between them. JC let go of Lance and moved in on Justin, and the two of them rubbed up against each other, staring fiercely into each other's faces. Lance wondered if he was expected to step up behind one of them, but they ignored him, and he started dancing by himself again and didn't watch as they drifted away.
It was a far cry from a threesome, of course, but Lance decided the next morning that he couldn't say he had never had two guys grinding on him at the same time. Because that had to count for something.
He did most of his thinking in the mornings, usually. It was better than trying to hash things out the same night, better just to sleep on it, and then when he woke up he would lie there in bed and go back over whatever it was and figure out where he stood. That way, he didn't have to spend a lot of time thinking, what's going on? what are they doing? what am I doing?
Lance rode back from the show in the car with JC, and JC slung an arm around his waist, fingers pressing warm against his ribs. Lance let his head fall onto JC's shoulder. At the hotel, JC ambled loosely along beside him for the trip through the lobby, but when they reached their floor, JC turned after him and followed him purposefully into his room. Lance turned around and JC pulled him in and put his mouth on Lance's neck.
Everything seemed to be happening very fast. JC was licking at his throat, and it was hard to breathe. Lance tried to get his arms around JC, but JC was already pushing him onto the bed. Almost before he knew it, he was lying on his stomach with JC's fingers digging at his ass. Then JC's cock pushed into him. Lance clenched his hands in the sheet and thought, this? really? all the fuss? But JC started thrusting, a little unevenly, but long and deep, and Lance thought, okay, yeah, and yeah, and ohh.
He woke up with a start. It felt like he had been dreaming really hard just before he woke up, but he couldn't remember what about. Then he heard a snuffle and squinted to make out JC's nose on the pillow across from him. Lance rolled a little closer and reached down and stroked a thumb carefully across the back of JC's hand.
The next time Lance woke up, it was just barely starting to get light. JC was standing next to the bed, stepping into his pants and sliding his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Lance sat up in the middle of the bed and watched him.
JC picked up his shoes and then turned and noticed Lance. "I'll, uh, see you later, okay?" he said quietly.
Lance just looked at him. JC threw him a glance and left.
Lance watched the door swing closed. He slid down into the covers. It wasn't even really morning yet. He wanted to go back to sleep.