October 2003
| Sexy Boy 2
by coreopsis |
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pairing: Nick/Lance rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: totally fiction and on crack. Nick woke up to find Lance Bass in his bed--a bare naked Lance, he discovered when he flipped back the sheet, because of course he had to check. First thing you do when you wake up with someone is check to see who all is naked. And look at that, he was too. Climbing out of bed as quietly as possible, he blinked, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and blinked again. He'd bagged Lance Bass. Wow. As he stumbled to the bathroom and took a good long pee, memories started filtering back into his mind slowly and disjointedly. He stared at Lance's bare ass and vaguely remembered wanting to write a song about it. He hoped he hadn't said that out loud at the time, because Lance probably already thought he was a freak after the pineapple incident. From the way he'd reacted, you'd think nobody had ever tried to fix his spunk before. But Nick had laid down the law, if Lance wanted more blowjobs he had to do something. Nick shook his dick exactly two times and then brushed his teeth, all the while thinking Lance had been just a little unreasonable about the whole thing. Of course, Lance had quit being offended pretty damned quick when Nick had flipped him over and kissed his ass--literally, which must be a such a refreshing change from the figurative asskissing he gets every day. Oh...that was when the song came up. Nick winced as he walked back into the bedroom and recalled his own voice clearly babbling *out loud* about how he'd wanted to write a song about Lance's dick but his ass would be even better although really they're both easy to rhyme words. Dick, lick, ass, Bass...for some reason, Lance had not been impressed with the idea of rhyming his name with his butt. Nick couldn't imagine why. It was a *compliment* after all. Although, Lance had a point when he rhymed Nick with prick. Still, as long as the word "big" was in there somewhere Nick wouldn't complain. Crawling back into bed, Nick propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at Lance. His hair was a mess and his face was smushed into the pillow, and for some reason that made Nick want to pet him. He reached out one finger and brushed the tips of Lance's hair, pulling away when he realized that might not be hair product making the spikes so stiff. He squinched up his eyes and tried...oh, yeah. He should probably apologize for that one, but really it was kinda Lance's own fault for jerking his head away so quickly. He was trying to make a point, Nick was sure, but he just ended up with sticky hair so, really, it wasn't much of a point was it? Maybe they could shower together whenever Lance woke up, but Nick was not really in a hurry for that to happen because he wasn't sure how Lance would be in the morning. He didn't know if Lance'd be grumpy or cheerful, or whether he'd be embarrassed to find himself naked in Nick's place or what. Nick frowned as he realized that even though he'd known Lance for years, he really didn't *know* him. Except in the biblical sense, which had been hella fun to learn. What did they call it? Oh yeah, yeah, he had *carnal knowledge* of Lance Bass, International Superstar and Certified Cosmonaut. Nick rocked. He'd give himself a round of applause if it wouldn't wake Lance up. A little golf clap wouldn't hurt though.... "What are you doing?" Lance's voice was even lower and drawlier and hotter first thing in the morning, and Nick wanted...well, everything he could get, but hearing more of that would be a start. "Say something else. Anything, I don't care, tell me what you've got planned for the day or the plot of your favorite movie." Nick licked his hand and wrapped it around his dick, and waited for Lance to start. "You want to jerk off while I talk about my schedule?" Lance blinked at him and then lowered his face back to the pillow. "You're a sick man, Carter." "Oh...yeaaaaahhhh," Nick sighed and pumped his dick, watching Lance's reaction from the corner of his eye. "Keep going. Tell me what a bad boy I am." "You are..." Lance's gaze skittered the length of Nick's body and Nick turned slightly to give him a better view. Lance cleared his throat. "You're not a boy." "I'm a Backstreet Boy." Nick snickered and slid his hand lower, pressing the base of his dick against his body and lifting his balls a little with his other hand. "I'm trying to ignore that," replied Lance, watching Nick's hands closely. "Aw, now don't be that way." Nick played with his balls with one hand and went back to stroking his dick with the other. "You think I won't be proud of bag--er, *being* with a member of NSYNC?" "Will you?" Nick glanced over at Lance and if he didn't know any better he'd describe that expression as horrified or maybe just disbelief. He obviously didn't know Nick very well either. "You're going to tell all your guys about this?" Nick didn't say anything for a long moment, just smiled and stroked, giving the head of his cock a little twist for extra flair. Lance raised his head again and stared at Nick with his eyebrows trying to climb up his forehead. He raised up and scooted around until he was sitting crosslegged on his side of the bed, watching Nick intently. "Are you?" After another moment, Nick decided to stop teasing and said, "Probably not. They'd just rag on me because I couldn't get Timberlake." "Did you *want* Justin?" Lance was wearing his offended cat face again and Nick couldn't hold back his snicker, even though it wasn't very smart to tease someone with a perfect ass because he might decide not let Nick near it anymore. "Nah." Nick's whole body was feeling warm and tight and so *so* good now and Lance's voice was still the hottest thing he'd ever heard. He tightened his grip on his dick and shifted against the sheet, he was close...close close close. Honesty compelled him to admit, "But I'd hit that, if the sit--oh fuck--situation presented itself." "Really? Are there any of my other bandmates you have a hard-on for?" Lance sounded eerily calm now and Nick glanced up to make sure he wasn't, like, holding a knife or something. Getting stabbed to death in his own bed while wacking off would be hideously embarrassing and sure to make the front page of every tabloid ever created. Besides the whole fact that he'd be dead and wouldn't have even gotten to come yet, both of which would be worse than anything the Enquirer could do to him. But Lance wasn't holding a knife, he was just watching Nick and getting harder and harder. Nick licked his lips and watched Lance wrap his hand around his own dick and start sliding it up and down, uuuuupppp and down, uuuupppppp and down, and then upanddown and upanddown and then he *stopped*. He took his hand off his dick and uncrossed his legs and shifted until he was kneeling right up against Nick's side. And the whole damn time he was doing this, Nick had let his own hand go still and his mouth fall open. He closed it and swallowed to keep from drooling, and then by unspoken agreement, he and Lance changed hands. Well, they kept the hands that were attached to their wrists, but switched which dick they were stroking. Nick had been holding it off so long that Lance barely had to do anything to make him come, so in no time at all he was arching and moaning and squeezing Lance's dick a little too hard in his orgasm-fueled enthusiasm. Oops. But Lance was cool about it because Nick scooped up some of his own come for lube and started jacking Lance hard and fast, which made Lance's eyes roll back in his head--Nick had been delighted to discover *that* the night before--and in just a few minutes Lance was biting his lower lip and shooting his come onto Nick's belly. Lance closed his eyes and Nick stared up at his face. He really was a pretty guy. Nick shouldn't be surprised, or even impressed really, since he was surrounded by amazingly good looking people everywhere he went. But Lance was *pretty* and he was here in Nick's bed, and that was pretty damned cool and just a little scary because Lance could probably do much better than Nick but then he came here of his own freewill and Nick didn't have to kidnap him or anything so maybe he thought Nick was kinda hot too. That put a smile on Nick's face and he reached over to rub Lance's thigh as he asked, "So...want some breakfast? I could make pineapple pancakes." Lance's eyelids flew open and his eyes shone as golden-green as a cat's. "Don't even start with me, Nick, or I swear I'll have nothing but asparagus milkshakes for a week before our next 'date'." "Dude, that's just nasty." Nick eyed Lance's body in what he hoped was a sexy manner, licked his lips, and asked, "Do I need to remind you what you'd be missing?" "Ummm..." Lance stared at Nick's mouth and his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and damned if Nick didn't find that kinda sexy too. He needed to nibble on Lance's neck really soon. Yeah, Lance would appreciate that Nick put that on his agenda, and Nick was about to mention it when Lance said, "Can I have a few minutes to recover first?" "Sure." Nick raised his eyebrows and smiled as innocently as he knew how. "Shower?" Lance nodded and climbed off the bed and Nick just lay there for several more seconds, watching Lance and his perfect ass walk across his bedroom toward the bathroom. If Nick had his way, breakfast would not even be an option. They'd be fully into dinner time by the time they managed to ever get dressed. And Nick always got his way. Go to Part 3 Back |