Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
That said, on with Season 7.
Lance
"Are you sure you're ok for this?" Lance asked as they sat in the limo, driving to the arena. They still had a half hour before sound checks, and Lance had told the others by phone that they would meet them there for the sound checks and dinner.
They hadn't seen any of the others all day. Lance had called them all about breakfast, and then after noon when Justin finally woke up he didn't want to eat anything, so Lance had called the others and told them they were going to skip lunch, too. Chris, JC, and Jack had asked if they could come over to see Justin, but Lance told them he didn't think it was a good idea after he asked Justin, and Justin just shook his head, lying in bed and holding Junior against his chest. After he got off the phone, and ordered a couple subs from room service, Lance came in and sat on the bed, not too close, but near enough for Justin to reach him if he wanted to.
"Justin?" Lance asked. Justin looked up at him, his face blank, his blue eyes wide and empty. "Do you need anything?"
"No," Justin answered. He blinked, realizing that he was being a little rude to Lance, who cared about him. "No, thank you. Lance, I feel tired, really tired."
"Is it the pill, Justin?" Lance asked, knowing that they left him kind of dazed.
"I don't know," Justin answered. "I just, I feel so tired. Can I stay in bed today? Please? Is that ok?"
"Justin, whatever you want is ok," Lance said, watching him. He'd only seen Justin like this once before. After Lance had gone to get help, and the guys had all found out about everything, there had been a time when no one talked to Justin, or even acknowledged that he was there, and Justin was just this frightening blank that followed them all around. He took up space, but he was like a closed system, a good painting of a human being, with nothing underneath. "Do you want to talk about anything? Do you need to?"
"No," Justin said, shaking his head.
"Are you sure?" Lance asked, petting Junior, putting his hand near Justin's. Justin didn't take it, but he didn't move his hand, either. "It's not good to hold it inside, Justin."
"I'm not holding it inside," Justin said, not moving. "I just don't have anything to talk about. He was there. He found me, and he touched me, and it was real. I'm never going to be safe, never. He's always going to come back, and he's always going to find me, and he'll do it again. It doesn't matter what we do. I'm not safe."
His voice was so flat, and matter of fact, that chills went down Lance's spine. Justin really thought he was never going to be safe from Nick, and Lance realized why Justin didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to do anything. Justin was giving up. Justin was going to lay in bed and wait for Nick to come back, and then Justin was just going to surrender.
"Don't do this, Justin," Lance said, hearing his voice tremble. "Please don't do this. Don't let him win. You have to fight, Justin. You have to fight your way back from this. You're stronger than he is."
"Why?" Justin asked. He turned his head, looking up at Lance. His bright blue eyes were huge and glassy beneath his thin blond eyebrows, but the rest of his face was empty. "I'm tired, Lance, I'm so tired. It's so hard to fall asleep, and to get up. It's so hard to fight, to get out of bed, to do anything, it's so hard, and it doesn't matter. He's going to be there, he's always going to be there. It doesn't matter if I fight."
"It does matter!" Lance said sharply. "It matters to me! It matters to all of us. We care about you, Justin, and we want you to be the way you were, the way you used to be. We want you to be strong, and beautiful. We want you to be Justin, damn it. We want you to be our baby boy again, and not just for us. We want it for you. We want you to be happy again, and strong. You told me the other night that you didn't want him to win, that you didn't want him to take everything."
"That was before," Justin said, sitting up. His shoulders were slumped, his head down. "Before he came back. Before he found me."
"But he didn't hurt you, Justin," Lance pointed out. "He found you, but he didn't do anything."
"Because you saved me," Justin said softly, his face melting a little, the features softening. Justin reached out, his hand shaking, and brushed the side of Lance's face. "You saved me. You all saved me. You protected me."
"We always will, Justin," Lance said, letting Justin touch him, letting Justin reach out for whatever he needed. "We'll always protect you. I'll always protect you, just like I promised."
Justin's eyes finally watered, tears spilling over, and he pinched them closed as he grabbed Lance and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the space where Lance's neck met his shoulder. Lance curled his arms around him, holding him tightly, feeling him finally release as Justin shook and sobbed beneath him.
"He was there," Justin sobbed. "He put his hand on me, and he was there."
"I know, Justin," Lance whispered, holding onto him again, hoping Justin was comforted by how familiar this was. "I know. Just let it out, ok? Let it out."
Justin did, sobbing softly, clutching Lance's back. When he finally started to level off, Lance tilted his head up carefully with one hand.
"Justin, why don't you get up and take a shower?" Lance asked, glancing at the clock. "It'll make you feel better, and it'll relax you. I have some sandwiches coming, and we can just stay in today, and rest, if that's what you want."
"OK," Justin whispered, nodding. "Can Junior come in the bathroom with me?"
"That's fine," Lance said, smiling. He watched Justin climb out of bed, rubbing at his shoulder. Lance knew the bite couldn't really hurt, since it was healed, but sometimes when Justin was upset Lance caught him unconsciously rubbing at it. He didn't ever say anything about it, but every time he saw Justin reach up there, he wanted to find Nick and hurt him. "I'll be right here if you need me, ok?"
Justin paused at the bathroom door.
"Lance, you said yesterday that you were going to lunch with Chad today," he began. "You didn't have to stay in for me."
"Yes I did," Lance said, shrugging. "You're more important."
"No, I'm not," Justin answered. "Not really."
Lance wondered what that meant as Justin closed the door. He thought about asking Justin about it when he came out of the bathroom, but realized that they had to talk about something else. He had to tell Justin about Joey, and what he had said. When Justin finished showering, he left the bathroom for Lance, and Lance washed up while Justin got dressed. When Lance walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in his towel, Justin was laying on the bed, fully dressed, petting Junior.
"Justin, I have to get dressed now," Lance said, expecting him to get up.
"I'll shut my eyes," Justin said quietly. Lance raised an eyebrow, but Justin didn't see it. His eyes weren't squeezed closed, but they were shut, and Lance figured whatever Justin wanted was fine. As he got dressed, he glanced over, or looked in the mirror, but Justin kept his eyes closed the entire time, and Lance wondered if he'd fallen asleep. He saw Justin tense when room service knocked at the door, but Justin had relaxed again by the time Lance pushed the little cart into the bedroom.
"Justin, I got you a turkey sandwich," Lance said, sitting down on the bed. Justin, lying on his side, didn't move, but Junior eyed the cart in joyous anticipation, waiting for a handout.
"I don't want any food," Justin said neutrally, not opening his eyes. "I'm not hungry."
"Do you want to cancel the show tonight?" Lance asked bluntly. He wasn't going to let Justin pull inside like this. He didn't know why Justin was suddenly pulling away from him, but it needed to stop.
"No," Justin answered. "I don't want to cancel. The fans."
"The fans aren't going to enjoy it if you collapse onstage in the middle," Lance said, unwrapping Justin's sub. "You threw up before the party last night, Justin, and you haven't eaten today. If you don't eat something, you're not going to have enough energy to do the show."
"OK," Justin said, sitting up. "Junior, get down."
The dog hopped to the floor and sat between Justin's feet, waiting patiently. Justin might pretend like he wasn't going to feed him, but Junior knew Justin always did. Lance might not, but that was why Junior wasn't sitting by him. Sooner or later Justin would hand him something, and it was usually a lot more interesting than dog food. All he had to do was wait, and roll his eyes.
"Justin, I need to talk to you before we go see the other guys later," Lance began, not sure of how to ease into this. He watched Justin bite the sub and mechanically chew, his cheeks bulging a little as he watched Lance with his bright blue eyes. He waited until Justin swallowed, so that he wouldn't accidentally choke him. "Joey stopped by while you were sleeping."
"What did he want?" Justin asked neutrally, taking another bite.
"He wanted to talk to us," Lance answered. "He wanted to say that he was sorry for all the things he's said, and the way he's been acting, and he wanted to apologize to you for what he said in the bathroom last night."
Justin thought about it for a minute.
"Do you believe him?" Justin asked, pulling a scrap of turkey out of his sandwich and tossing it down to Junior. Lance was a little startled by the matter of fact way that Justin asked.
"I think so," Lance answered finally, turning it over in his mind. "I mean, Joey hasn't ever lied to me."
"He looked sorry last night," Justin said, and for a second Lance thought he was joking. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I looked at his face. He didn't want to say that to me, and he didn't like it."
"He shouldn't have said it," Lance said, his tone shifting a little. "He had no right to talk to you that way."
"Maybe he had to say it," Justin said. His voice was still completely flat. "When he talked to me, when he said that, it cut through everything, Lance. I wasn't thinking about anything. All I wanted to do was hold onto you, and be safe, and I wasn't listening to anyone. I didn't even hear Josh, not really, but when Joey said that, I heard him. Maybe he knew that."
"That's actually kind of what he said," Lance said.
"Then what's wrong?" Justin asked. Lance glanced at him again. "You're still upset about something. If you believe Joey, why are you still unhappy?"
"Because he's been a jackass, Justin," Lance said, surprised that Justin wasn't angrier. "I mean, he's just going to come and say sorry, after what he did? After the way he treated you?"
"I said I was sorry after the things I did," Justin said. "I apologized after the way I treated you, and you listened to me. Why don't you want to listen to Joey?"
"It's different," Lance said, a little annoyed by the way that Justin just kept eating. "He betrayed me, betrayed our friendship."
"I betrayed you and our friendship," Justin said, talking with his mouth full. Lance bit back an urge to correct him.
"It's not the same, Justin," Lance said. "You had reasons for what you did. You're not like Joey."
"Maybe Joey had reasons for what he did, too," Justin said, tossing Junior the last couple of scraps of his sandwich as he finished it. He stood, and walked toward the bathroom. "Maybe I'm a lot more like Joey than you think, and you just don't want to see it. I have to brush my teeth now."
Justin closed the bathroom door behind him. Lance, sitting on the bed, stared at the door in shock, wondering what that had been all about. Justin was nothing like Joey, couldn't be, not Justin. In the bathroom, Justin looked at his shaking hands and breathed a sigh of relief, certain that he'd been convincing. He was still hurt by Joey, still a little afraid of him, but he had to push Lance away. It was the best thing for Lance, and if that meant he had to let Joey be near him, had to let Joey be his friend, then he would do it, if that's what it took to keep Lance from making a horrible mistake. As much as he needed Lance, needed to feel Lance's strength and comfort, he needed Lance to do what was best for him, and that meant he had to push him away. Lance's needs were more important than his own.
After that, they'd hung out in the suite, doing their own thing. They didn't talk any more about last night, but they left the television off, both of them avoiding encountering any coverage. They fielded a few phone calls from Johnny, and from Justin's mother, assuring them that he was ok, and that it had just been a passing bout of illness from something Justin ate. Justin assured both of them that the concert would go on tonight, and that he would be fine, but as it got closer and closer to go time, when they had to ride over to the venue and start their sound checks, he felt himself getting more and more nervous. What if Nick came to the concert? What if he looked out from the stage, and Nick was there? What if Nick was here, now, in the hotel? They said he was safe, that everything here would be ok, but they said that last night, too, and it hadn't been.
Lance watched Justin throughout the afternoon, and tried to figure out why Justin was trying to play it off, to pretend that nothing was bothering him. After weeks of being together, of spending every minute with each other, more or less, Justin was shutting him off, blocking him out, and he didn't know why. Lance knew that Justin was nervous, and he knew that Justin was feeling unsettled. As it got closer and closer to go time, Justin got jumpier. His hands shook a little, and he twisted them nervously in his lap, almost unconsciously, as he paged through a clothing catalog. Junior, feeding off of Justin's nervousness, paced relentlessly around the suite, but Justin seemed too distracted to play with him. Finally Justin went to the bathroom, and when he was there for several minutes without coming out, Lance went and tapped at the door.
"Justin?" Lance asked.
"Lance," Justin answered weakly, and Lance pushed open the door. Justin was sitting on the floor, by the toilet, holding a cold washcloth on his head. When he looked at Lance, his eyes looked sunken, and he was very pale, stark white under the strong lights in there. "Lance, I feel sick. I think I have to throw up."
"What's wrong?" Lance asked, sitting down next to him. "Talk to me, please, Justin, don't shut me out."
"I'm scared, Lance," Justin answered finally. "I'm scared, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being afraid, but what if he's there tonight? What if he comes to the show? What if I'm in the middle of a song, and I look up, and I see him? I can't do it, Lance, I just can't. I'm just so afraid. When I see him, it happens again, Lance."
"I'm sorry, Justin," Lance said, not touching him. He set his hand down near Justin's, and Justin took it. When he felt Lance squeeze it, he laid his head on Lance's shoulder. "Justin, we don't have to do this tonight. We can call it off, and refund everybody."
"No, we can't," Justin said, shaking his head. "It's not fair to the fans. They came to see us, and to see the show, and we shouldn't cheat them out of that because I'm so, I'm so fucking weak."
Justin's hand flew up to his eyes at that, trying to swat his tears away, and Lance cradled him tightly. Justin's shoulders shook with the effort not to cry, his lips pulled back from his teeth as he tried to hold it inside.
"You're not weak, Justin," Lance said, stroking his back and his forehead. "You're strong."
"I'm not," Justin said, shaking against him. His face was red now, and tears continued to slide slowly down his cheeks. "I'm not strong, Lance. I thought I was. I thought I could do anything. I thought I'd always win, because I was Justin Timberlake, and I didn't. I didn't stop him. I tried, Lance, I tried so hard. I yelled at him, and I tried to get away, but he held me down, I tried to fight, and I couldn't stop him. I was weak, and I let him do that to me. And then, last night, I let him touch me again. I wanted to stop him, but when I saw him, I couldn't. I could fight, and I couldn't do anything. I was just too scared, and too weak, and I don't want to be anymore, Lance. I don't want to be."
"You didn't let him do anything, Justin," Lance said, holding him. "You tried to fight, and you are strong, Justin, you are. You're strong inside, and when you're not, you can fall back on us, on all of us."
"Even Joey," Justin said quietly, his face pressed to Lance's chest now. Lance sighed.
"Yes, even Joey," he grudgingly admitted. "We're all here for you, and we'll all be strong with you, Justin, you know that. Now, what can I do? Right now, what can I do for you?"
"Be my friend," Justin answered quietly. "Please, tell me you're my friend. Tell me I'm not trash, and that I should have friends. Tell me I'm a good person, and I'm not, not bad. Tell me I'm not like him."
"You'll never be like him, Justin," Lance said, cradling him. Justin held tightly to Lance, not wanting to look at him, hoping everything he said was true. "Now, do you want to do the show tonight?"
"Yes," Justin answered finally.
"Why?" Lance asked.
"Because I can," Justin answered, wiping his face. He looked at Lance, his eyes still wet, but his jaw was tell. He was psyching himself up, and Lance was part of it. Lance knew his role, and they were shifting into it now. "Because I can do this."
"You can do this, Justin," Lance said, nodding. "You can."
When it was time to go, the two of them made sure Junior had food and water, and a pad down on the bathroom floor, and then they went down and got into the car. The others would be coming from wherever they went during the day, JC and Jack probably from some long afternoon together, and Chris and Vlada as well. Lance wasn't sure what Joey did, although, since they were in New York, he was probably out visiting old friends or something. They would all meet at the arena for sound checks, and then have dinner together. On the way over, Justin still looked a little shaken, which is why Lance asked again if he was all right, and if he wanted to do this.
"I'm ok," Justin answered. He swallowed, taking another pull off of the water bottle in his hand. "I couldn't do this without you, Lance. I, you're, you know."
"Yeah," Lance answered, squeezing Justin's hand. He was what, exactly? "I know."
Jack
Josh and I stayed in for the day, ordering room service for lunch, just lying around on the couch watching television. Now that he knew my decision, neither one of us was quite so anxious about me leaving in the morning. On a regular day, the two of us would spend today being a little down, a little depressed at the thought of our impending separation, but now it was just an extra hurdle, a little quick obstacle that we would get through. I realized during the night, as I thought about it, that I wanted it as much as Josh did. As much as I liked what I was doing, I didn't like being apart from him. I didn't enjoy waking up alone, or eating meals with Andrew, wishing I was with Josh, knowing that Josh was somewhere else, eating with one of the guys, wishing he was with me.
We hadn't made love in the shower, a rare occasion for us both, but when we got out, and I saw him standing on the bathmat, water coursing down his body, dripping off all of those muscles, and his tight brown nipples, I couldn't help myself. Dropping down to my knees in front of him, my tongue reached out and caressed the wide, spongy head of his half-hard cock. I tasted shower water, clean and pure, and looked up to see him staring down at me, his lips parted, wet hair hanging down over his forehead. Without saying anything, I leaned forward, closer to him, and began to lap the water from his balls, pushing them around with my tongue.
"Oh, Jack," he sighed, leaning back against the wall.
His voice was husky, breathy, just the way I like to hear it, and I felt his cock twitching, filling with blood as it slowly climbed the side of my face. Josh sighed again, and I felt his fingers sliding down from the wall to caress my shoulders, rubbing at them. He tilted his head back, blue eyes sliding closed, as I moved my mouth up the firm trunk of his cock, feeling it throb under my lips. His sighs continued, urgent little whimpers, as I licked my way up and down him, avoiding the head, but running my tongue around the ridge where it met the shaft. He was fully hard now, his cock jerking in time to his heart beat, and each time my tongue touched it he let out another high pitched whimpering sigh, and his long, tan fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders. Finally I let my tongue slide up onto the head from underneath, tasting the salty traces of his slowly leaking precum. When I did, dipping my tongue into his slit, he let out a full, open mouthed sigh, a tightly pinched sound of urgent need, and one of his hands slid up my neck and onto the back of my head. I looked up at him.
"Please," he whispered, staring down at me, his blue eyes half closed.
As an answer, I let my mouth drop open, and I felt the pressure of his arm flexing as he pulled me onto his cock. His arm pulled me toward him with a firm, smooth flex as his hips rolled forward, and his shaft slid smoothly into my mouth. I kept my lips tightly pressed around him, knowing he liked that, and felt his head leaving a slick trail over my tongue and across the top of my mouth. As I looked up, I could see his whole body above me, his slick torso, still a little wet from the shower, stretched before me. My eyes, sliding up from his wet brown pubes, followed the rippling line of his abs, watching them roll and change as his hips continued to slowly pump himself into my mouth. Above them, his pecs flexed as his arm continued to pull me toward him, his small brown nipples pointed and hard, his smattering of soft downy chest hair slicked down by the rest of the water. The lines of his neck led up to the firm sketch of his jaw, the soft curves of his mouth, and the soft prominence of his cheekbones, pressing out from his face below those eyes, so many shades of blue overlaying each other, that I knew so well.
"Jack, oh, God, Jack," he sighed.
We stayed like that, me kneeling before him in complete submission as he fed me his cock, until he was done, and I felt him shooting into my mouth. His arm flexed, biceps shaking, as he convulsively pulled me onto him. I gagged on his cock, my hands resting on the lanky expanse of his thighs, but I trusted him not to choke me to death. I guess it was sexy gagging, because his eyes were clouded with lust when they finally opened, after his cock finished pulsing and spurting in me. He let go of the back of my head slid his hands around to my jaw, pulling me up from the floor and plastering his mouth over mine. He jammed his tongue inside, tilting my head back, and I sighed against him as I felt him darting and prodding through my mouth, tasting himself, trying to follow where his cock had been. When he finally pulled our heads apart, I slumped against him as he stood on the wall, both of us gasping for air, and I felt my hard cock prodding his balls.
"I love you," he whispered, jamming his tongue in my mouth again. I moaned, feeling his hands slide down to my ass, squeezing and gripping it. They danced around to my front, his fingers wrapping around my cock, and then he was dropping to his knees. "Let me help you with that, baby."
"Josh," I sighed, feeling him attack me with his usual fervent zeal. "I love you, too."
When we were finally finished, an orgasm and much kissing later, Josh and I got dressed, and spent the day cuddling and watching television. I knew he was worried about Justin, and Lance, and after I told him what had happened between Joey, Chris, and I, he was worried on that front, too, but we talked about it, and agreed that we would monitor, but not intrude. We would keep an eye on the others, and continue to offer support, but otherwise we would wait for them to need us, and we wouldn't intrude. It seemed like a good idea, but we both knew it would be hard. Josh just wanted to help everyone, and, while I did, too, I was also so naturally curious that it bothered me not to know everything that was going on.
We also discussed what we were going to do with Chad, as a large part of his job was coordinating my engagements and schedule. If I wasn't going to be speaking again until the tour was over, he'd have to have something else to do. Josh and I agreed that we would keep him on to help with our correspondence, since we would need him again once the tour was over to manage my stuff again, and we thought that maybe the lessening of his responsibilities would help him adapt to them better. When he stopped by after lunch, to update me on Georgia's repealed sodomy laws and the current movements trying to get them back into place, we explained it all to him, and he was predictably excited until Josh dimmed his glow a little. I was just as surprised, since Josh hadn't warned me.
"You staying on with us is provisional, Chad," Josh explained. "I know we talked about this yesterday, but I decided that I want to formalize it a little, because it's a serious issue for us both. Jack and I like you, but this isn't about whether or not we're friends. It's about the job you were hired to do, and our satisfaction with your performance so far."
"Are you firing me?" Chad asked, swallowing, his eyes wide. I wondered if he owned any clothing that didn't cleave itself to his body like a spider monkey on a tree.
"No," Josh said, shaking his head. "I'm taking everything we talked about, and I'm going to put it in a letter for you, so that you understand how important this is to us. I really believe that you can do this, Chad, and I really want to give you a chance, but this is going to be your official warning. If you don't improve, we're going to have to let you go."
"OK," Chad said quietly, looking away is if he might burst into tears. I gritted my teeth, thinking that we had enough criers already.
"Do you have any questions?" Josh asked gently. "Do you need to ask anything, or want to talk about this?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Chad said, standing. "I have to go. I'll do better, JC, I promise. You'll see, and you won't be sorry you gave me a chance."
He hurried out, and I looked at Josh.
"Did you do that for me?" I asked.
"I did that for us," he answered, kissing me on the forehead. It was all the answer I needed.
The sound check seemed to go ok, or at least it went typically well. The guys walked up and down the stage, trying their microphones, chatting with each other and with the special group of fans who got to come to these. Vlada and I sat off to the side, Andrew a few rows behind us, and the two of us shared a bag of popcorn, waving at our boys when they glanced toward us. Justin seemed his usual self, and I wondered how much pep talking Lance had to give him to get him that way. Joey looked a little down, but once, as they passed, Justin reached out and squeezed his shoulder. It was quick, and the audience probably thought it was just a typical gesture of friendship between the guys, but Vlada and I both caught it, and Joey looked at Justin with such grateful surprise that I thought he might start crying. The others all caught it, too, Chris and Josh doing a passable job of masking their surprise, and Lance looking so neutral that it was obvious he wasn't pleased. As we sat in the audience, waiting for the guys to finish so we could all have a quick dinner, my phone rang.
"Jack, it's me, Chad," he said brightly, as if I couldn't figure that out from the caller ID. "Kevin Richardson from the Backstreet Boys called for you. He knows that you're going to be in Boston tomorrow, and he says he wants to talk to you. I told him you were unavailable right now, and he asked me to call back. What do you want me to tell him?"
"Did he say what he wanted?" I asked, knowing full well.
"No," Chad answered. "I asked, like three times, but he just said you'd know, and that he was going to be there either way."
I sighed.
"Tell him to meet me for a late dinner somewhere," I said finally. "Call around Boston, find us a nice, quiet restaurant close to the hotel, make us a reservation, and then call him and tell him to meet me there, ok?"
"Sure, no problem," Chad said quickly. "I can do that."
I wished all of my problems were solved as easily as Chad seemed to think they could be.
To be continued.