"Lance, let me in! It's fucking cold out here."
Lance picked at his nails. He needed a manicure. His cuticles were a mess.
"Lance, you stupid bastard, let me the fuck in."
Lance closed his eyes, imagined Justin standing there in the downpour, the water beading and dripping off his face, sliding in rivulets down the tight muscles of his stomach. Down the coarse brown hair that dusted his navel. Down into his jeans. He stood up, went to the door. Justin was shivering. Lance pushed open the door and Justin climbed in, teeth chattering, leaving little puddles on the floor.
"What took you so long?" Justin shook the water out of his hair. Crystal drops scattered, landed on Lance's bare arms, his face.
Lance licked his lips. Smiled. "I was busy."
"Yeah, well I was freezing my ass off out there. Think you can wait until I'm on the bus next time before you start jerking off?" Justin's voice was clipped, angry. But not too angry. He squeezed water from his shirt.
"Why? You wanna watch?" Lance purred.
Justin's hands paused. He looked up, eyes guarded. "What the hell is wrong with you? No, I don't want to watch."
"Want to give me a hand, then?"
Justin laughed. "Are you drunk?"
Lance shook his head. "Stone-cold sober." He pushed Justin against the wall, pressed his hips to Justin's. Licked Justin's earlobe. Justin froze but didn't pull away.
He heard Justin swallow, saw the Adam's apple bobbing. "Where's JC?" Justin whispered.
"Fast asleep. Passed out. Unconscious."
Justin seemed to snap out of his daze, put his hands on Lance's chest and pushed him away. "What are you doing?" Justin's voice was still low, a little shaky.
Lance ran his finger over Justin's lips. "Nothing."
Justin turned his head away. "Good. Keep it that way." He peeled off his shirt and disappeared into the back of the bus.
***
4 a.m. Still pitch-black. Still raining. The bus sped down the interstate, heading towards whatever interview or rehearsal or appearance they were scheduled for that day. The bus was hot, making Lance sweat under the thin blanket as he lay in his bunk. JC still snored. Justin was still hiding from Lance. Lance couldn't sleep. He threw back his curtain in the semi-dark, stepped out of his bunk and smacked into Justin, still damp from the rain.
"Excuse me." Lance sidestepped him, let his hand trail lightly over Justin's ass. Justin jumped and grabbed Lance's wrist.
"Lance, what's going on with you tonight? Are you high?"
"I told you before. Stone. Cold. Sober."
JC coughed and murmured from his bunk. Justin pulled Lance to the couch. Lance stretched lazily. Justin stood above him. Lance grabbed Justin's hips, pulled them to his face. Tasted rainwater and sweat as he flicked his tongue over Justin's belly button. Justin's hands twined in his hair.
"What are you doing?" Justin whispered, so softly Lance almost didn't hear it.
"What JC has been too drunk to do for weeks." Lance flipped open the button on Justin's jeans, nudged the waistband of Justin's shorts down with his tongue.
"We can't..."
"Sure we can." Soft sound of Justin's zipper going down, of pants sliding over hips. Lance eased Justin's shorts down and he stepped out of them. He pulled Justin closer, felt coarse hair brushing his lips, Justin's legs shaking under his palms. "I know you want it." He wrapped his hand around Justin's cock. "I can see it."
Justin let out a short laugh that choked off when Lance licked the head of his cock. Lance wrapped his lips around it, let it brush the back of his throat, let the taste fill his mouth, willed his gag reflex away.
Justin's hands were in his hair again, clenching and unclenching with the rhythm of his hips. Little noises came from Justin's throat. Little whimpers, little sighs. Lance sucked back up to the head, flicked his tongue over it again. He stood up, pushed Justin against the small table where they would eat breakfast in a few hours.
"What if JC wakes up?" But Justin's hands were already at Lance's sweatpants, untying the drawstring with clumsy fingers.
"If JC wakes up," he mumbled into Justin's mouth, stepping out of his pants, pulling Justin's hips closer, "he can watch." Justin made a little noise in his throat and hopped up on the table, wrapped his legs around Lance's waist. Lance pushed them down again, pulled Justin to his feet. "On your stomach."
Justin looked vaguely shocked, vaguely thrilled. "What?"
Lance grabbed a handful of Justin's hair, bent Justin's head back, bit at the soft flesh of his neck. "On. Your. Stomach." He turned Justin around, a little roughly, still holding tight to his hair. Justin stretched out across the table, spread his legs a little. Lance patted his ass lightly and Justin whimpered again. "Stay right there."
Lance took a step back and paused, taking in the unbelievable picture before him. Justin's arms stretched across the table, the muscles tight as he gripped the edge. The downy hairs up the backs of Justin's thighs, the smooth lines of his back. He stepped closer, cock in hand, rubbed it against Justin's ass. More whimpers. A shaky sigh. Lance slid to his knees, kissed slowly up Justin's thighs. Flicked his tongue over Justin's asshole, felt Justin jump. He did it again, and this time Justin moaned, deep and low, frustrated.
"If you're going to fuck me, get on with it." Harsh words, but they were spoken too softly to convince anyone that Justin was in control. Lance flattened his tongue, licked a wet swatch from Justin's balls up to the small of his back, climbed to his feet.
Lance spit into his hand, slicked up his cock and slid into the tight heat of Justin's ass. There was no sound save for the occasional semi-conscious grunt from JC's bunk, the roaring of the bus, Justin's labored breathing. Justin jerked himself off while Lance fucked him, and when Lance felt Justin's body tense, he grabbed Justin's hand and pulled it away.
"I come first," Lance purred, biting the back of Justin's neck. Justin struggled to free his hand, whimpered again and went slack as Lance quickened his pace.
Justin lifted his head, turned it so he could see Lance out of the corner of his eye. "Then do it."
Lance ran his hand up Justin's sweaty back, wrapped his fingers around a section of Justin's hair, tightened them until he knew the roots must be screaming. Justin's jaw clenched, but he didn't make a sound. Lance pulled almost all the way out, paused to watch as Justin's mouth tried to form words, thrust hard once more and came. Came hard, fast, and dirty, squeezing his eyes shut and biting back a scream.
He pulled out and collapsed against Justin's back, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, felt Justin's hips rocking against him and realized Justin was jerking off again. Justin grunted softly and shuddered and Lance climbed off of him, glanced at the wet spot gleaming on the floor.
"You should clean that before JC wakes up."
***
Midnight. Different day, different state. Same scene. Lance and Justin kept up their extracurricular activities while JC slept off his drunkeness. Almost three weeks by Lance's count.
There was no sentiment to their late-night rendezvous on the bus. It was simply a matter of need, of being provided an outlet for their hungers.
Justin gave JC what Lance didn't want - long talks and lingering looks, a love so pure it was painful, a bond so deep it was impenetrable. Lance gave Justin what JC couldn't - a hard cock and good orgasms.
It was that simple.
***
2 a.m. Same night. Justin naked and sprawled out on the couch, Lance positioned above him, fucking him slowly, teasing them both. Justin moaned, clawed at the pillows, pulled one to his face. The sounds from his throat were muffled against it. Lance dug his fingers into Justin's hips, pushing himself deeper, pressing his cock against Justin's prostate. More muffled noises from behind the pillow.
Lance saw movement out of the corner of his eye, looked up and saw JC leaning against the doorway. There was no shock in his face, no pain or grief. Curiosity, perhaps, like he was watching a nature program. Lance continued thrusting into Justin, whose face was still covered by the pillow and hadn't seen JC yet. JC moved out of the doorway, slid into the booth across from the couch silently, propped his head in his hand. Watching. And, Lance could see, hard.
Lance locked eyes with JC, challenging him. JC sat back, slid his boxers down lower on his hips, worked his hand under the waistband. Justin was writhing, arching his back, his hand on his cock. Lance watched JC. JC watched Justin. Justin kept the pillow over his face and had no idea what was going on around him. Lance, as was his and Justin's custom, came first, eyes still on JC's face, JC's hand, JC's cock. He pulled out, told Justin to keep his eyes closed, backed away from the couch and motioned for JC to take his place.
JC knelt between Justin's legs, took Justin's cock in his mouth. Justin's hands fluttered from the pillow, lighting on JC's head and JC pulled them away, but it was too late. Justin gasped, pushed at JC's shoulders, sat up. His eyes were wide, terrified, panicked as he looked from JC to Lance and back again.
"What the hell...?"
JC, still drunk, still horny, quieted Justin with a kiss. Justin pretended to protest, made a half-hearted attempt to resist. But then JC buried his face between Justin's legs again and Justin was quiet.
Lance plucked his sweatpants from the floor, pulled them on, climbed into his bunk. Soft sounds of fucking beyond the curtain. He licked his lips, tasted the remnants of Justin's sweat, Justin's come. Smiled.