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2.
The Prince, tears of confusion and sorrow tracing down his face, looked down at the pair of lovers. “For never was a story of more woe/ than this of Juliet and her Romeo,” he declared, and the house, Joey and Chris included, erupted in brilliant applause. The cast lined up for the curtain call, all bowing to cheers and whistles and claps. Joey stood when Juliet came forward to take his bows and when he raised his head again his gaze settled up, near Joey, and he could almost imagine that the boy saw him, looked up to the upper boxes and noticed his response, but his head dropped again and he stepped back and the moment was over. --- The green room was packed tightly and the crowd of humanity was almost overwhelming. An interesting mix here, of the outrageously expensive and ornate trappings of the gentry, and the gaudy, tawdry accessories of the actors. Little gatherings of admirers surrounded the players and Joey used his height to his advantage, stretching over the crowd to catch a glimpse of the blonde wig of Juliet. He spotted Kevin’s black head first, bending down over a shorter man’s head, and when he pulled away Joey recognized Juliet. The boy looked back in his direction, and this time Joey was sure that he caught the boy’s eye. Their gaze held for several moments before he turned back to Kevin, and Joey let the power of that moment drive him forward. “His name?” he asked someone standing near him, pointing towards Juliet. “Lance,” the man said. “Lance Bass.” “Lance,” said Joey, testing the name on his tongue. He liked the sound. “Lance,” he repeated, and stepped forward. Lance looked up at the call of his name, his eyes meeting Joey’s at short range and Joey could almost see himself reflected in the green depths. He smiled at Joey, turning his attention away from Kevin, who stood behind Lance and scowled. “My lord?” Lance said, and his voice surprised Joey with its deep resonance. Joey recovered quickly and smiled and held out his hand, drawing Lance closer to him, further away from Kevin. “Fatone,” he said. “Call me Joey.” “Joey,” Lance said, and smiled. The effect so close up was dazzling and Joey lifted a hand to trace his fingertip along Lance’s bottom lip. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, mindful of their audience. “As are you,” Lance answered in the same tone. Joey lifted Lance’s hands and placed gentle kisses on their fingertips. “Come with me,” he whispered against them, and stretched out his tongue to taste the crease between Lance’s thumb and forefinger. “Where?” Lance couldn’t hide his shiver. Joey was delighted by it. “My home,” he said. “My bed.” He drew the tip of Lance’s forefinger into his mouth, gently sucking on the smooth skin. Lance’s gaze dropped to Joey’s mouth, his lips where they encircled his finger. “Are you sure you can afford me?” he asked, smirking as his eyes met Joey’s again. Joey pulled Lance’s hands from his mouth and smiled. “Of course,” he whispered, drawing Lance closer. “For how long?” Lance asked. “As long as you like,” Joey said against his cheek, lips grazing the rouged skin. “Let me change,” he said. “I’ll be waiting.” --- The lobby darkened as the candles in the chandeliers gutted. Joey waited in the shadows at the far end for Lance. “You…” Joey heard, and felt Kevin’s hands on his shoulders from behind. “You’ve got him now and you’ll keep him for a while.” Joey’s breath quickened as he felt Kevin press against the length of his back. “Maybe,” he breathed. “But you’ll lose him,” Kevin rasped in his ear. “You’ll always lose because you don’t fucking feel.” “I-” “You don’t. And I’ll be there, Fatone.” Kevin’s grip tightened on his shoulders and Joey gasped. “I’ll be there and I’ll catch him when he falls and you’ll still be alone.” Kevin whispered the last and let go, pushing Joey slightly into the light as Lance came through a door on the opposite end of the lobby. He turned but Kevin had already gone. --- Easy enough to guide him through the steps, introduce him to Chasez and the rest of the staff, assign a valet and show him their room. Easy enough when Lance smiled and tried to shake Chasez’s hand, asked the valet what his first name was, and sprawled across their bed and kicked his shoes off, one hand beneath his head and the other stretched toward Joey. “Come,” he whispered, and Joey took the hand, let himself be pulled to the bed, rolled over until he was the one sprawled across it, and Lance rose over him. He kicked off his shoes as Lance pulled at the buttons at his waist, and willing, eager hands used to intricate costumes and quick changes made short work of his shirt and breeches. Joey was hard, had been hard since Lance lifted hooded eyes and whispered to him, begging for him, and Lance pulled at his underclothes until Joey was laid bare, full and weeping and arching into Lance’s touch. Lance’s thumbs pressed into the indentions of his hips, his fingertips spread along the warm, smooth skin of his thighs. Lance mouthed his inner thighs first, ran his tongue up the crease of his thigh and Joey felt the explosion of breath on his cock just before Lance’s full lips engulfed him. He closed his eyes, but that didn’t expel the memory of Lance’s red lips wrapped around his cock and he almost came from the vision alone. Then Lance hollowed his cheeks, applying the most exquisite pressure and Joey did come, eyes still closed and hips arching off the bed. “Been awhile?” Lance asked as he sat back. “Too long,” Joey answered. Lance smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt and Joey ran his fingertips over each newly revealed inch of skin. When the shirt was gone Joey pulled him down, craving the brush of skin on skin, and kissed Lance. The first time, he realized, and almost couldn’t tell which tastes were his and which were uniquely Lance. “You have…” Lance mumbled against his lips. “Table drawer,” he answered. Lance rolled off him, stretching to reach the side of the wide bed and Joey pressed his face and mouth against Lance’s chest, licking the salty, warm skin as he pulled at the waist of Lance’s pants. “Off, off, off,” he chanted, running his hands into the open waist, smoothing over Lance’s hips and thighs. Lance hitched his hips up to help him, turned back to him with the little vial of oil in one hand and his other on Joey’s stiffening cock. “Let me,” Lance said, uncorking the vial. He poured a small amount of the oil over his fingers, rubbed them together to warm it before he spread his hands over Joey’s cock, fully hard and erect again and Joey couldn’t believe he’d recovered so quickly. Lance pushed him over on his back, straddled him and rose above him and Joey closed his eyes because it was almost too much. He opened his eyes and reached for the vial but Lance held it away. “Let me,” Lance said again, pouring more oil onto his fingers. He reached behind himself and Joey watched his eyes close and his mouth open on a small sigh as he pressed his own fingers inside, making himself loose and slick and ready. His hands reached, of their own volition, to smooth over the soft white skin of Lance’s chest. Lance leaned closer and Joey raised his head, ran his tongue over a pointed nipple. He dropped back again when Lance sat up, holding himself over Joey. “Let me,” Lance said, one last time, and lowered himself onto Joey’s cock, hand still behind him, guiding the way. Joey grabbed his thighs and pressed his thumbs into the white skin of Lance’s hip. His head arched back against the pillow and Lance leaned forward to mouth his neck. “No,” Joey groaned. “Not … like that.” He shifted over, bringing Lance beneath him. He drew out a little, pressed in again and Lance moaned, dragging his fingernails over the skin of Joey’s back. Joey could feel Lance’s cock between them, ground in between their stomachs and he reached down with one hand to stroke it in time with his thrusts.
He felt Lance’s lips on his temple, his cheek, and he pressed his mouth to Lance’s as he felt Lance stiffen, arch up into his touch and he came as Lance did and rolled away.
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