September 23, 2001


One Night at Babylon.
Crossover with Queer As Folk US
by Coreopsis C.


One Night at Babylon (Crossover with Queer as Folk--the North American version)
Pairing: Lance/Brian Kinney
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: Brian and the boys of Babylon belong to Cowen, Lipman, Jonas, and Showtime. Lance and the boys of *NSYNC belong to themselves. I don't know them or anything about them but what I read in magazines. And since Babylon is a fictional place, we all know this couldn't really happen, right?
Thanks to lancenerd and joeynerd for beta and posting and putting up with me.
Send me some love (or hate) at coreopsis_c@gmail.com

PS: I know nothing about what the live shows are like except for what I've seen on TV.



So...Pittsburgh. Two massive shows in two days and after the first one, Lance knew he should just stay in his hotel room and get some rest. But it was a great show and he was still buzzing with energy. The other guys had it too and were all looking for places to go. He smiled and begged off when Chris asked if he wanted to come to the clubs with them. He wanted something a little different from their usual, someplace where he could let go and be himself.

So...Liberty Avenue. A sympathetic roadie who was excellent at keeping the secrets of the group had pointed Lance at a place called Babylon. He had even given Lance his membership card, and Lance was grateful that their crew seemed to have come from all over the country. Local connections often made life on the road a hundred times smoother than it might be otherwise.

So...Babylon. Standing on one of the balconies, he sipped his drink and watched the crowd. He intended to dance, but he wanted to get a feel for the place first. Chris always laughed at him because he liked to wait and evaluate the crowd while Chris just plunged right in and made himself at home. Lance liked to watch. Not in a kinky way, of course, he just liked to take it all in. People were interesting to him, like bugs under a microscope.

He didn't know if the group was less popular in the gay community or if the crowd here was just consumed with its own drives and desires, but no one seemed to have recognized him yet. He'd had a few appreciative smiles and one guy had brushed up against him more intimately than the crush demanded, but that was all. They didn't see a famous pop star, just a young guy out for a good time. That was pretty cool. It was nice to get attention that hadn't been dimmed a bit by Justin's overwhelming popularity or JC's incredible beauty. He only had to compete with strangers here, instead of with his best friends, with whom he really didn't *want* to compete.

To be desired for what he alone presented, by beautiful men who had no idea who he was, was so exhilarating that it left him a bit giddy. He wondered if the effect was like some of the club drugs he'd heard of but never tried.

So...the view. Male bodies as far as the eye could see, many shirtless and glitter-dusted, all writhing and bumping to the insanely loud electronic dance music. Lance could feel his hips moving of their own accord as he swept the crowd with his gaze. A tallish brown haired man in a shiny grey shirt and black pants was dancing dead center of the floor with a shorter darker haired guy in a ringer tee. The shorter guy looked about fourteen from this distance and Lance wondered what the attraction was, but then he noticed the taller man was cruising the crowd, only halfway paying attention to the guy in front of him. Just friends, Lance decided after noting the lack of chemistry. About that time, the tall man looked up and saw Lance watching him. When their eyes met, the sparks that flew were so sharp and bright that Lance wondered if anyone else could see.

So...the dance floor. Lance walked down the stairs and the guy he'd noticed was waiting for him. He took Lance's hand and said, "Brian Kinney. Come with me." But before Lance could reply, he was pulled out onto the dance floor. Lance smiled as one song segued into another and Brian kept doing the same move. It wasn't dancing so much as vertical fucking--knees bent, hips thrusting, arms kept no higher than waist level in what Lance sometimes thought of as the straight-guy position. The professional in Lance inwardly cringed, but the man in him was fiercely turned on. He wondered what else those slim hips could do. Then Brian's long arms slipped around him, bringing their bodies into closer contact, and he ceased to wonder.

So...recognition. Brian's face was very close to Lance's, close enough to see into the depths of his hazel eyes, to see his own pale green eyes reflected back looking just a little too wide. Brian suddenly frowned and said, "You look familiar. Are you...are you in that boyband that's playing the stadium tomorrow?"

Lance laughed and replied, "I get that a lot, but I just don't see it myself." He shimmied up against Brian in a way that was guaranteed to derail *any* train of thought except one. And Lance could tell by the change in Brian's face--from curious to predatory-- that it had worked. Brian's low voice in his ear, muttering dark and dirty suggestions, sent shivers down his spine and he was more than happy to follow him off the dance floor.

So...backroom. It was barely lit and slightly cooler than the rest of the club, but Lance watched the lithe glide of Brian's body and listened to the soft sounds of sex all around them and felt hotter than he had in awhile. And then Brian had him up against a wall and was kissing him, hot and hard and all over the fucking place. Lance could barely catch his breath as Brian started trying to push him to his knees, but he managed to draw a deep breath and say, "No, you first."

Brian looked as if he would refuse, but something flashed across his face too quick for Lance to decipher and he nodded slightly. He glanced around as if to make sure no one was watching then switch places with Lance, so that Lance's back would block the sight of Brian on his knees. Lance silently let himself be maneuvered to the other man's satisfaction and tried to be patient. It was worth it because once Brian finally unzipped Lance's pants and went down on him, Lance was certain his eyes were going to roll right back into his head. It was hot and rough and...dirty. And almost nothing could have distracted Lance at that moment, but the music changed again and "Pop" came on.

Lance threw his head back and let out a strangled laugh as he came in a sudden spurt down Brian's throat. His whole body shuddered and shivered and he was gasping for breath when Brian stood up with a smug look on his oddly beautiful face.

Lance pushed Brian back against the wall and leaned in to kiss him, running his tongue over smirking lips, tasting himself and tasting expensive aftershave when his tongue strayed to a sharp jawbone. He ran his hands over Brian's chest and stomach before grasping his hips and dropping to his knees. He took Brian's cock out and demonstrated what kind of breathing skills that years of dancing and singing at the same time had given him. Brian's fingers cradled the back of his head with surprising gentleness and remarkable restraint. He never tried to control Lance's movements and the only time he came close to causing pain was when he came. His hands tightened and pulled Lance's hair just a little, but Lance didn't complain. He just peeled the fingers loose and stood up, still holding Brian's hands in his.

For a moment, they just stood and stared at each other. Then, as if a silent signal had been given, they both broke into smiles--Lance's wide and friendly, Brian's crooked and satisfied. Lance checked that his clothes were all fastened and straight without appearing to do so, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, it's late. I should be getting back to my-- home. Getting back home."

Brian nodded and licked his lips a little as they walked back into the club proper. As Lance walked away, he heard someone with a southern accent practically screech, "Oh my God! Brian, was that--"

And Brian's bored reply, "No, he just looked like him."

The southern accent sounded disappointed when he said, "Oh. I wanted to go to the show so bad, but it was all sold out." But then the music swelled and Lance moved out of range and he couldn't hear Brian's response.


So...concert. Sometimes Lance thought he could do these in his sleep, and yet he always tried to connect with the crowd enough to make it feel like a special event-- for them if not for him. So after their explosive opening number, when Joey stepped up front and center to do his we're-so-happy-to-be-in-Pittsburgh-we've-got-a-great-show-for-you speech, Lance stood way off to his side of the stage and smiled down at the audience. He read a couple of signs but most of them in this section were for Justin and JC and he got bored. He listened with half an ear for his cue to move into position for the next song and almost missed it.

There in the third row was Brian Kinney staring up at him in open amusement. A tall skinny guy next to him looked as if he was about to wet his pants with excitement. He was clutching at Brian's arm and talking frantically. Brian just shook his head and smirked up at Lance. Lance swallowed hard and kept his gaze impersonal as he swept it away, smiling and winking at some teenaged girls who had words he couldn't read scrawled all over their bare arms.

Later in the show when choreography brought him back to that side of the stage, Lance tried to look everywhere but at Brian. He saw the guy in the ringer tee from Babylon standing next to an older man who looked like a teenie dad and almost choked until he realized the guy had probably not noticed him last night. And again his eyes slid right back to Brian.

The son of a bitch was still smirking and Lance realized that was probably his natural expression and ceased to worry about it for the rest of the show. Tomorrow night Lance would be in another city anyway.


The End.

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