Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned.
NEEDING YOU By Neqs Chapter 7
The party was in full swing. The large room was full of people and noise, the music throbbing through the mass of bodies like an infected wound, the air saturated with a nauseating mixture of exotic perfumes swirling around. Beautiful people, famous people, rich people, and even a couple of talented people were standing around socialising, or shimmying on the dance floor.
'I look absolutely ridiculous,' thought Marshall Mathers as he glared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar "You look so good, Em, sweetheart! That shirt brings out your fantastic musculature," Lance had sighed almost dreamily. And not wanting to have another fight with his boyfriend, Marshall had hidden his antipathy for the dreadful rag.
Not that he looked bad or anything. The tight shirt hugged his beautiful torso, the satiny material shining enticingly, and the biceps bulging from the short sleeves left no doubt about the wearer's masculinity. The scarlet colour brought out his piercingly blue eyes, and went nicely with the black, loose jeans he wore.
The shirt just wasn't very Marshall Mathers. Evidently others thought so too.
"What the hell are you wearing, Em?" Dr. Dre asked his friend and protégé, rubbing the slippery material between his thumb and forefinger disdainfully. "You decide to go pop on us?"
"Fuck, no," Marshall grunted, sipping his drink glumly. "I don't want to fucking talk about it, ok?"
"Ok man, but there's got to be a story there and someday I want to hear it." Dre knew that he'd have to nag a long, long time to get Em to spill. The boy liked to keep his private matters private, at least now that he had his thing together again. He decided to change the subject. "So how are the studies going?" he asked the smaller man, who quickly shushed him.
"Not in public Dre, someone will hear and I'll be fucked!" Eminem warned him, looking around them, checking if anyone had heard anything.
"Sorry, I forgot. Now come and talk with the guys, you can't mope at the bar all night." Marshall reluctantly followed his friend through the throng. The less people who saw him in this godawful shirt, the better.
Lance scanned the crowd for his boyfriend. He finally spotted him standing in a group of big black guys, evidently his fellow rappers. Marshall was looking bored and a bit uncomfortable, but very handsome in that shirt. Lance smiled happily and once again congratulated himself for the buy.
Marshall seemed to feel the eyes on him and looked around. His eyes met Lance's and moved on with no change of expression. Lance felt like someone had slapped him hard in the face and poured icy water over his head.
JC, who was standing right next to him, noticed how his face fell.
"What is it Lance?" he asked worriedly.
"It's nothing," the blonde said softly, almost too softly to heard over the pulsing music. "I'm just being oversensitive," he explained, forcing a weak, sad smile. "I mean, we talked about this, Em and I, and I understand that he has a certain image he has to uphold. That means that he can't show any sign of liking me in public; can't even show that he knows me at all. And even though I know that that's how it has to be, it hurts, hurts so bad," Lance finished, sniffing desolately and blinking back tears.
JC frowned and felt a surge of anger towards the guy who dared to hurt his friend like that. He would have liked to rant and rage, but knew that he had to try to make Lance feel better.
"Lance... This stuff happens. It's a shitty world, and especially a shitty business. But there are important things and there are unimportant things. All this," he gestured at the people around them, "this is the not important part. This is all about facades and pretty packages. The important stuff is what is still there when the party's over, when there are no cameras or reporters or any of this shit." JC sighed, trying to find the words that would comfort Lance, even if JC himself didn't wholly believe them.
"Who he seems to be now, the person who looks through you, that's not him. It's just an act, a front. When he's with you, he's real. And that's all that matters," JC finished, hoping he'd piled the pathos high enough to calm Lance down.
He had. Lance smiled, his eyes that only a minute before had looked so lost and anguished coming alive again. He hugged his friend tightly in gratitude. "Thanks Josh," he murmured.
Marshall frowned. It had been surprisingly hard not to let his expression change when he met Lance's bright gaze. He had lots of experience of holding a poker face, but this time it felt different. Like he'd denied Lance - well, technically he had, but that was only because they were in public, right? Lance couldn't possibly get mad at him for that.
But a moment later he glanced carefully at his lover across the room and saw his anguished face, and his heart broke. He cursed his music, he cursed his fans, and he cursed himself to the lowest hell.
And then Lance was hugging the other man. JC. The thin guy who'd glared at him all through breakfast the previous day. Marshall suppressed his urge to run over and break his arms, to rip Lance away from him. When Lance pulled back and flashed JC a warm smile that made his eyes glimmer, Marshall downed his drink and refrained from crushing the glass in his fist. He was the only one Lance should show that smile to.
Lance smiled as he moved on. He'd had a very fruitful discussion about possible future collaboration with an up-and-coming artist who had lots of potential. She'd also been very awed to be in the presence of THE Lance Bass. That kind of innocence and enthusiasm was rare in the industry, and would be gone from the girl soon. But in the meantime it was refreshing to watch.
"Having fun?" Lance turned to look who'd spoken, and flashed the dark-haired man a friendly smile.
"Hey D, how's the break? You must be tired after such a long tour."
"Wiped out, but we've already had a week of rest so I've had time to catch up on my sleep and so on. You're working in studio, right?"
"Yeah, the schedule's pretty relaxed, though. We also have a few photo shoots from time to time, and of course schmoozing at parties like this comes with the job description."
"But you do it so well," Howie answered with a playful whine. "I'm always trying to find something to say and end up standing in corners and counting minutes to an appropriate time to leave."
"Don't diss yourself. You're great company when you get going. It's not a bad thing if you're not a natural at kissing ass."
"You liked the way I kissed your ass," Howie teased with an enticing smile. "And there are other things I'm a natural at." His warm brown eyes were hot, and inviting.
"Ah, not tonight D. You're wonderful in bed and a great guy, but I'm with someone. Exclusively."
"Really?" Howie's eyebrows shot up. "You found yourself a boyfriend? That's great, although I'm a bit disappointed. I had hoped to get some Lance-loving tonight, but I guess that's not gonna happen. So, do I know him?" Howie asked, curious.
"He's in the music industry, but that's all I'm telling. He's got to be very careful about his image."
"Don't we all? I wish people would understand that even though they buy our CDs and tickets to our concerts, they don't own us. They could read a hundred interviews and not know a thing about us that matters. But there I go again. Sorry for the sermon, you probably know it by heart."
"Don't worry D, I know how you feel. I'd love to just stand there next to my man, his arm around my waist or mine around his, and have nobody bat an eye. And not have it ruin both our careers." Lance sighed, and then smiled. "But that's life, Josh already gave me a speech about it earlier this evening, and I'm trying to put things in an order of importance. He sees so clearly sometimes, despite having his head full of music most of the time."
"He's like that. He and pretty boy still together?"
"Hey, none of that! You're very pretty yourself, so you shouldn't say bad things about Justin."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. It's just that every five-member boy band - Kevin hates it when I call us that - has two straight guys and three gays, two of which are madly in love with each other, and that leaves one lonely, envious gay guy. And now that you're off the market, who's gonna be my fuck buddy?" Howie asked in mock sorrow, but with some genuine self-pity.
"You're funny and gorgeous D, so you'll find somebody in on time. Why don't you look beyond boy bands for a change? Enrique there in the corner is trying to escape the love of that tipsy starlet. Go help him out, you never know what might develop."
Howie looked where Lance was discreetly pointing and cocked his head, assessing the situation thoughtfully. "You might be right. I'll give it a shot. Give my best to the guys!"
"Good luck! Say hi to Kevin and AJ for me, and to Brian and Nick too, of course."
Lance grinned as he looked at Howie's rapidly retreating back. He really liked the guy, but they'd never clicked on a deeper level enough to have a relationship. He'd found that with Marshall, as much as it had surprised them both. He hoped Howie would himself a special someone.
Marshall grunted to indicate he was following a conversation he hadn't listened to in last five minutes. His attention was riveted to the sight of Lance talking and smiling to some short Latin guy who seemed to be standing very close to Lance. Too close for Marshall's liking. And Lance's smile was way too wide.
Lance hadn't smiled at Marshall all evening, not after the first one.
"Em, are you listening to me?" Bizarre asked him.
"What? Yeah."
"What did I just say?"
"You asked if I was listening."
"Before that."
"How the fuck should I know? I wasn't listening."
Marshall was afraid. Afraid that Lance would leave with that guy - no, the guy left and headed for a corner where a very uncomfortable looking Enrique Inglesias was trying to guard against the advances of a drunken blonde. Of the booby kind.
Back to being afraid. Ok, Lance didn't leave with the guy. Lance could find some other guy. He was looking so hot in those tight leather pants and weird shimmering shirt that showed off his subtle but distinct muscles, he could have any even marginally gay guy here. Why would he stick with a guy he couldn't even talk to in public?
Marshall downed another drink with an increasing certainty that Lance would leave him. The idea hurt him more that Marshall thought it should. 'I did fine without him; I've always been fine alone. I don't need anybody!' But somehow the thought of never having Lance smile at him again in his special way chilled Marshall to the bone.
He looked at Lance who was standing there watching the two Latin guys get rid of the over- enthusiastic woman. Lance smiled gently, and Marshall's heart ached with joy and at the same time with sorrow. He'd lose that, and all the other smiles that were only a fraction of what made the green-eyed man so special.
Lance turned his attention away from the men in the corner and looked straight at Marshall. Their gazes locked. Lance grew serious but held the eye contact. Then he flashed Marshall that brilliant, sincere, unspeakably warm and special smile, and Marshall couldn't help but smile back, relieved and oh so happy to still get that smile from his Lance.
Howie Dorough was puzzled. He glanced at the bar where Enrique was getting a drink for "his hero". Howie grinned at the thought, but then his mind returned back to what he had witnessed.
Howie had looked back at Lance, wanting to give him a wink to thank him for encouraging him to try Enrique, but Lance had had his gaze locked on someone on the other side of the room. His eyes had sparkled and his smile had been luminous and loving. Was he smiling at his guy?
The Backstreet Boy scanned the crowd, looking for someone looking into Lance's direction. He found one person smiling at Lance and holding his gaze with happy laughter dancing in his eyes. 'Is that- What- How-' Howie was stunned, but when Marshall Mathers winked at Lance and turned back to his conversation with the other members of D12, there was no room for doubt.
And why was the guy wearing a shirt that looked good on him, but wasn't his usual style at all? Lance had that kind of power over people. Not because he was manipulative or anything. People just wanted Lance to be happy, because Lance was so lovable and sweet and quirky. And now he was dating Eminem.
'Good for him. I guess he knows what he's doing with that boy band basher. He's got to be a wild number in bed,' Howie thought with a slow grin. And then Enrique returned with the drinks and drove all thoughts of Lance and Eminem out of his head.
"What took you so long?" Marshall growled to Lance when he entered the suite. Lance was once again trapped against the door and a hard body. Not necessarily an unpleasant thing.
"Nothing important, Em. I'm here now, aren't I?" Lance answered the rapper gently, meeting his intense gaze levelly. "You don't trust me?"
"I do trust you James. I just hated it tonight, not being able to talk to you or be with you, being forced to look at all those guys making moves on you. You're mine!" Marshall vented and buried his face in Lance's neck.
"Yours, huh?" Lance kinda liked the sound of that. Very Neanderthal. Very arousing. "And nobody made moves on me tonight."
"What about the short dark guy?" Marshall asked, nibbling on Lance's soft earlobe.
It took Lance a few seconds to remember the question. "Howie? He's just an old friend, we talked for a while and he left the party with Enrique Inglesias," he said, craning his neck to give his lover better access to his ultra sensitive neck.
"I felt like shit for not being able to acknowledge you at all. I was so sure you were going to leave me. You looked so hurt the first time I looked through you. I'm so sorry!"
"Don't be. It's ok. I was a little hurt, hell; I was a lot hurt even though we'd talked about this. You can't reason with your feelings, you know? But Josh talked me out it. He reminded me that the world outside with all those superficial and petty people is unimportant compared to what we have together. We have...a chemistry. I feel good with you. I don't need to be the responsible one, or the nice, quiet one. Those are just small parts of me. With you I can be all of me."
"We're good together. We've just got to learn how to show each other that we care even when we can't talk. For example, I'm not allowed to kiss you in public, but I'm allowed to, even expected to glare at you. So every time I look at you heatedly, you're the only one who knows I'd like to lick and bite and suck you all over and fuck you silly. Remember that," Marshall said with a gentleness that belied his words.
The temperature in the room was going up fast as the lovers gazed at one another.
"Now. Something needs to be done about these men who think they can hit on you. They need to be told that you're not available and that you're very much mine."
"And how are we going to do that?" Lance panted. His leather pants were getting tighter by the second. He squirmed a little, not trying to get away, but wanting to get more comfortable.
"I think I should mark you. I'm going to touch every inch of your skin, memorise it, and put my signature there," Marshall whispered, his breath hot on Lance's ear.
Lance gasped when the rapper sank his teeth lightly into his neck and ripped his shirt to shreds with strong hands. "Hey! I paid a fortune for that shirt this morning!" he complained breathily.
"I'll buy you a new one, you looked so delicious in it anyway. And now, shut up," Marshall said before attacking the singer's soft neck with gentle, possessing teeth and lips again. Lance shivered in pleasure, pulled his lover's groin against his own with impatient hands, and surrendered the last threads of his self-control with joyous abandon.
His last thought was, 'This is what is important.'
TBC
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