Sorry for the lateness! Had a nasty test I studied almost a month for, and that took a lot of valuable writing time.
Thanks to Izzy (beta goddess!), Kor (whose ideas I use shamelessly but with immense gratitude), Summy, Libby, Rob and Dan, Writie, Metra, Peter, Ryan, Andy, Myoshi, Julienne, Trish, Bethany, Jimmy, Lincoln, JT, Angel, Nyn, Cindy, and all the other wonderful people who have graced me with their kind and helpful comments. Hell, it's to everybody who takes the time to read it! Enjoy...
Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned. Adult (m/m) content, probably foul language, don't be illegal, stuff like that. Any likeness to people personally known to me is either purely coincidental and unintended, or devoid of malevolence.
NEEDING YOU CHAPTER 26 By Neqs
"Tom, calm down. Tom-" Lance rolled his eyes in frustration as he failed to get a word in. "TOM! I'm sorry, but you've got to calm down and listen to me. Thank you. Now, I know you're upset and you have every right to be, this is a big step after all. And I definitely know what a huge effect this could have on your career, believe me, I know. But I want to you to remember why you decided you were going to do this in the first place. Nicole pushed you? Well you had to want it too or she wouldn't have succeeded in persuading you. Think about it this way: you've been trying to get drama roles for years, right? This just might be a perfect opportunity to do that! Face it, being straight is so damn predictable and boring. The 'gay sensitivity' will appeal to drama directors, and as for the action stuff, a gay action hero is a success story waiting to happen. But hey, it's your life and your call."
Lance closed the phone with a sigh. This had been the third and hopefully last time the actor had changed his mind this week. It wasn't that he was regretting his decision, he just wanted to be reassured that he was doing the right thing.
Lance felt like he was spending more time on the phone than off it. Most of that time was of course spent talking to Marshall, who was two states away - as far as the moon, but also as close as the sound of his breath in Lance's ear just before he fell asleep.
A lot of time went to organizing the coming out, or "the party" as they were calling it. There wasn't a day when Lance didn't get a call from this or that musician, performer, or actor. They all wanted something from him, if nothing else, a pat on the head for not backing out. Not that he'd blame anyone who wanted to do that. Coming out was a serious matter, you shouldn't do it because of peer pressure if the time or situation didn't feel right to you.
Marshall, he should call Marshall. Lance considered fishing his cell phone out of his pocket right there, but then he decided that he'd better get into his room first. He strode down the hotel hallway, glad that the tour was almost over. He was tired of sleeping in a bus, tired of sleeping alone in a bunk bed. The low thrum of the motor often failed to lull him to sleep, and when it succeeded, there was still a certain reluctance to his rest.
Once his home away from home, now the bus seemed wrong somehow. Alien, like it wasn't he who was meant to be there, but someone younger, more energetic and less jaded. Lance didn't consider himself old, but he wasn't that young either. He was tired sometimes, not the single-minded exhaustion of youth, but the dispassionate weariness of someone who sees the big picture, or at least much more of it than he did before.
Sure, he still felt the same sparkling liveliness and contentment, altered by maturity, but different things did it for him nowadays. One of them was, of course, Marshall. It seemed like everything in his life came down to Marshall. There was nothing wrong with that blessed state of things, but it made Lance wonder how and when his life and happiness had inextricably twined themselves around the rapper.
The fact that he relied on another person so greatly scared him sometimes. The thought of losing Marshall... he couldn't bear to even think about it. He usually banished such thoughts by immersing himself into Marshall's touch, his taste, his scent, and was made whole again.
'That's a little difficult when he's not here,' Lance thought as he maneuvered the suite door open. The sound of his voice over the phone helped, but of course it wasn't the same.
Lance was just about to step in when he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and a hot mouth latch onto his throat just under his right ear. His startled squeak turned into a moan of surprised pleasure when he recognized his "attacker."
"Miss me, stud?" The words were rasped into his ear between teasing nibbles of the lobe. Lance just hummed an affirmative, arching his neck towards the hungry mouth. He groaned when the hands holding him slid downwards to cup his groin proprietarily. He was torn between thrusting forward to the warm hands and grinding his ass to the erection currently nuzzling it through two layers of denim. Was it just his lust-filled imagination or could he really feel the delicious ridges and veins of that wonderfully familiar cock even through the thick fabric? An interesting question but he was too horny for hypotheses right now.
"Oh yeah! Why don't we, ah, get inside and I'll show you how much." Lance was absurdly proud of himself for managing to gasp out two nearly rational sentences. He was almost completely lost in a haze of lust and love, but he still had the presence of mind to realize that a hotel hallway wasn't the best place to fuck your boyfriend. Especially if you weren't out yet.
Marshall seemed to agree with him, because before Lance could even start to gather resolve to try to free himself, they were inside the suite with the door closed. Lance would have been more than willing to renew their physical bond right there on the carpeted floor, who cared about rug burn anyway? Apparently Marshall did, because he was resisting Lance's urgings to get naked.
"Hold on babe, I'm sure there's a bed here somewhere. That'll be a lot more comfortable than the floor, don't you think?"
Lance's response was a small frustrated growl, and he tightened his arms around Marshall. His body was vibrating with strange energy, filled with need and want and urgency. Blue eyes met his lust-glazed green ones, and Lance could see desire flare in those seemingly icy depths, accompanied by a dozen other emotions.
Lance felt like crawling inside Marshall's skin and staying there, forever embedded in his strength and warmth. He plundered Marshall's mouth desperately, trying to coax the too-still tongue into moving, but without much success. It moved, but with slow, slick measured movements, belying the passion simmering just under the surface.
Lance's breath hitched when Marshall framed his face with his hands, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs in a familiar gesture. Lance closed his eyes again and leaned into the calming touch, savoring the sudden comfortable hush that had replaced his earlier urgency.
When he opened his eyes again, he felt like every cell in his body was humming happily. His eyes smiled briefly before closing again as he leaned in to nuzzle his precious man's neck, sighing at the exquisite rasp of his short stubble.
Marshall's hands had slid down to Lance's shoulders and neck, gently guiding his movements. Lance had lost himself, and found himself. He felt impossibly close to the other man, in body and also in spirit. There were no games here, although they might play some sometimes when they felt like it. There was no need to posture, pretend, or hold back - they both knew they could be as free in each other's company as they were when they were alone, and they both knew the other knew it too.
It might have seemed complicated and been beyond some people's ability to let go, but for them, it was the most natural thing in the world, by this time basic for their existence. Whoever they once had been, they were no longer. They had been broken to pieces by their tumultuous, conflicting emotions, and put together in a new, improved design.
The room was silent except for their contented sighs and the soft whisper of fabric against fabric as they cherished their physical closeness after a too long separation.
"Damn!"
Lance leaned back slightly and smiled at his man. "I agree. It's been, what, three weeks? Far too long."
"Let's never be separated for that long again, okay?"
Marshall's eyes softened as his lips curved into the gentle smile few ever saw. "Deal. It's been hell, babe, hell. I've been going crazy without your touch, the sound of your breath, everything about you. Damn if I can live without you anymore!"
Lance feigned a frown. "Damn right! And don't you dare trying!" he strengthened his hold of Marshall's hips, pressing them even tighter together, making them sway gently from side to side in an invisible rhythm. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not letting you go, ever. So there!"
Marshall smiled indulgently at Lance's imperious declaration. It was nice to be told he could have just the thing he wanted most. "What, do you expect me to argue with you? Not going to happen! You're never getting rid of me!" he punctuated his statement with a big, wet kiss on Lance's ear that had him laughing and protesting loudly, playfully struggling to get free.
The half-hearted struggling turned into squirming when Marshall started nibbling the ear carefully, his hot breath sending shivers through Lance's frame. "Mm," he hummed. "Missed you."
"Missed you too," Marshall whispered back. Hands started wandering again, but without the feverish urgency of before. Their movements were intense and almost reverent, but still playful as their joy in each other brimmed over.
Later, when they were curled together in bed, sweaty and spent but happy, Lance asked the question that had been puzzling him.
"Hon? Not that I'm not ecstatic to see you here ahead of schedule, but I thought you had a few more concerts left. I seem to remember a conversation we had about surprises..."
Marshall turned sad, stricken eyes towards his lover, looking pitiful, adorable, and generally heart- broken. His lower lip trembled as his blue, blue eyes filled with tears. "You...you don't love me anymore!"
Lance groaned and thumped his head against the pillow. He wasn't going to win this one. Just one look at that sad face and he'd be a pile of mush. For a guy known for his bad attitude, Marshall had an amazingly effective pout. Who would have guessed that the King of Controversy was also the King of Puppy-dog Eyes?
Always a graceful loser, Lance dropped a loving kiss on those adorable, pouty lips. "Of course I love you, silly guy! You win. Now, spill."
"The same old story, really. The concerts were cancelled and whatever publicity crap was left, I skipped."
"I guess I should be upset that you chose me over your job, but I'm glad you did."
They lingered for a moment, sharing a lazy, content smile. Then Marshall's ick-dar pinged. "Jamie baby, we're smelly and sticky, and I for one haven't showered since early this morning. Bath?"
"A bath sounds heavenly. Can we eat after?"
"You go run the bath, I'll call for Chinese. The usual?"
"Sure thing, sweetie."
Lance hummed happily as he poured his favorite bath oil into the large tub that was filling rapidly. Now this was what life was meant to be like - peaceful pleasures with the people you loved. Of course a little excitement was sometimes in order, but they'd have that soon enough. Being a celebrity had taught him appreciate the beauty of stillness and quiet.
Lance placed a few candles around the bathroom and turned out the light, pausing to admire the effect. When the water had reached a proper height in the tub he called for Marshall. "The bath's ready! Are you coming, Em?"
"I'll be there in a moment, James, you go on in!" Lance shrugged mentally and shed his clothes, sighing as he sunk into the hot, scented water. He leaned back and closed his eyes. The water was of a perfect temperature, and the oil made it pleasant to feel and to smell. The candlelight brought glimmering reflections from the shining walls. Now if only Marshall were there too...
Back in the main room, an impatient Marshall was rummaging through his coat pockets. After a moment of panic when he couldn't find what he was looking for, his hurried fingers bumped into the object. He let out a shaky breath of relief and sat back on his heels, his eyes glued to the small, square box.
Marshall started when he heard Lance's call. He scrambled for a suitable response and hurriedly placed their food order, asking it to be delivered in two hours. In the bedroom he found a plush bathrobe and changed into that, placing the box in a pocket. Then he put some relaxing music on, grabbed some chocolate, and headed for the bathroom.
Once past the doorway, Marshall halted to take in the room. Lance was reclining in the water, eyes closed. He looked totally relaxed, and the sensuous planes of his face were glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He must have made a sound, because Lance's green eyes slowly blinked open.
"There you are. I missed you...well, before I almost fell asleep! Get over here, slowpoke!" Marshall chuckled and stepped closer, carefully untied his robe and set it next to the tub. Then he lowered his body into the still-steaming water, careful not to make any flow over. Lance looked mildly surprised when Marshall just straddled his thighs and sat back with an intense, thoughtful look on his face.
"Em?"
"When did we stop using condoms, James?"
Lance looked baffled by the sudden question, but he collected himself and answered calmly. "Right about that time when we our tests came back negative, I guess. What-"
"Why did we do it?"
Lance was even more bewildered. "I think it had something to do with wanting to be with each other, and only with each other, for the rest of our lives. Sweetie, what brought this on?"
Now it was Marshall's turn to search for words.
"Having second thoughts?" Lance's casual tone contradicted the new tension around his eyes. Marshall looked up in alarm.
"God, no! Never, my love, never that." He moved closer, ending up in Lance's lap with his arms around his neck. He made soothing noises while rubbing his hands reassuringly over Lance's back and shoulders until he relaxed again.
It seemed like Marshall was the more upset of the two. "God, I'm such a fuck-up, always do everything wrong! Here I'm trying to fucking propose you and I end up getting you all upset!" When what he'd just said reached his brains, he winced, lifted his eyes to meet Lance's, and offered him a sickly grin. "Oops?"
"'Oops' is correct. Now let me get this straight: you were going to march over here, all unexpectedly, give me a diamond ring and ask me to marry you?"
"Um...yes?"
"Why?"
"Why what? Why do I want to marry you? Yeah, I know it's not legal, at least not where we live, but how many people get married to get all the legal rights anyway? Love isn't in the piece of paper, it's in the wish to become one, and in the declaration of that wish. Besides, I, um, kinda promised your mother to make an honest man out of you..."
Marshall peered tentatively from under his lashes, chewing his lower lip nervously. "I know we never talked about marriage, just living together and stuff, but I'd like it. Of course if you don't want it-"
"So where's the diamond ring?" Lance's face was expressionless. Marshall didn't break eye contact when he reached for his bathrobe pocket and extracted the little velvet box with its precious contents, handing it to Lance. He held his breath when Lance opened the box and gasped faintly, staring at the ring. Marshall waited for a comment, but when none seemed forthcoming he launched into an explanation.
"It's a 24 carat diamond in a titanium frame. Half of the little stones surrounding it are saphires, half emeralds. It symbolizes...fuck, I don't care what it symbolizes right now! Do you like it? Hate it? I can take it back-"
"Don't you dare touch my ring!" Startled by Lance's vehement protest, Marshall looked up to meet his flashing, tear-filled eyes and blinding smile. "My ring," Lance kissed the ring. "My sweet, silly man," Lance kissed Marshall. "Put it on for me?"
Almost dizzy with relief and happiness, Marshall plucked the ring out of its box and slid it into Lance's slender finger. They both admired it in the candlelight. The stones were beautiful and clearly high quality, but not overly large, so the effect was tasteful rather than flashy.
Blinking tears, Lance cleared his throat meaningfully. "Forgetting something, hon?"
Marshall was puzzled. "Um..."
Lance sighed in fond exasperation. "You still haven't asked me to marry you, you big oaf!"
"Oh! Damn...I'm really bad at this, aren't I?" They both laughed at that and the tension eased. "James Lance Bass, will you marry me and be mine to love, cherish, and fuck for as long as we'll live?"
"Really eloquent, hon. Poetic, even. I love you."
"...well?"
"Well what?"
"James! You still have to answer, you know."
"I do?"
"Yes...?"
"I do."
"Yes!"
TBC...
Comments are greatly appreciated. Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com if you have time. Even a short note lightens up my day and encourages to write. I take requests if I find them interesting, and I often do. Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!