Lance hadn’t come to bed yet.

Joey rolled over, spreading his arms over Lance’s side, and buried his nose in Lance’s pillow. From there, he could almost hear what Lance said to Justin in the outer room. Almost, but not quite.

He tried wiping his mind clean of everything, of the last five years, the good, the bad, the unforgettable, but he saw the man on the street again, and his eyes became JC’s.

“He’s not so good.”

Joey jerked his head up from the pillow. Lance stood just inside the door of their small room, shedding his standard issue coverall. “Justin?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Joey didn’t reply, just dropped his head back to Lance’s pillow.

Lance continued as he sat down next to Joey and ran a small, cool hand down his bareback. “I think if he could blame himself, he would. But he can’t think of a reason.”

“It doesn’t matter what we do,” Joey said.

Lance rested his head on Joey’s back, spread over him, his hands still running up and down the length of Joey’s sides.

“It’s us. It’s because of who we are.” Joey could feel panic and fear well inside him, shoving aside any peace, any content he felt with Lance. “It doesn’t matter,” he said again. He could feel hot, angry tears against his eyelids. “I can’t…”

Lance pulled at his shoulder, turning him over, and Joey could see the tears shining in his eyes as well. “Please,” he whispered. “Please keep trying. For me.”

Joey gulped for breath. “I don’t know if…”

Lance caught the rest of Joey’s words with his lips. “You can,” he whispered, when Joey had calmed. “You can.”

“Lance, please.” Joey’s hands caught Lance’s waist, pulling him down, harder against himself. “Please,” he repeated. He lifted his head and brushed his lips against Lance’s neck. He could feel the pulse beat, a little too fast, just beneath the pale skin.

The sheet tangled in his legs as he tried to move against Lance. He hurriedly kicked them to the floor and pushed his knee up between Lance’s legs.

They were too tired, most nights, to do more than kiss on their way to bed. Nights, weeks of need pulsed through their bodies, turning the slow, erotic dance of fingers and hands and lips into a frenzied grasping, biting fight to finish.

Joey rolled them over, his mouth fused with Lance’s and his hands on Lance’s quivering cock. He dropped another hand down, forcing his fingers past the rim of tight muscle and pushed inside.

He could feel the rumble of a choked off groan in Lance’s chest, could feel Lance’s fingers on his ass tighten, pulling him down, inside. He pulled his hand away and licked his palm, ran his hand over himself before pushing inside, deep inside.

He could hear Lance’s quiet gasp, could feel Lance pushing up beneath him, and knew. Knew he was living more for Lance than for himself anymore. He stopped for a minute, buried fully inside Lance, and watched his face, watched the long, thin neck quiver with the strength of feeling, the harshness of his breath. Lance’s face was red, strained, beloved.

Lance opened his eyes on a quiver of breath and his eyes met Joey’s. He brought his hands up to cup Joey’s jaw. “For me,” he whispered, drawing Joey’s head down, raising his mouth to meet it. “For me…”

Joey’s arms tightened convulsively around Lance and his need, his love became a pulsing wave, intent on crashing against the nearest solid surface. He gave himself up to it, felt it matched by Lance, and came.

He was awake, but couldn’t find a reason. Lance lay quietly against his chest, presumably still asleep. He shifted a little, but stopped when he felt someone else’s breath against the back of his neck. He turned his head and found Justin curled up against his back, barely touching him. One of his hands was curled up beneath his cheek and the other lay spread, almost like he’d made an aborted attempt to drape it around Joey’s waist.

Joey smiled faintly as he picked up Justin’s hand and pulled it around. He could feel Justin move, settle into his back, and he fell asleep with the feel of their mingled breaths dancing across his skin.