Private Rhythm

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)


Author's Notes: Um, I am aware that this is not my best work. It's not meant to be a work of art, just a fun and hot first time type fic. *shrugs* Thanks also to my beta, beth, who gave me very good advice, all of which I ignored.

***IMPT NOTE*** I realized after writing this that it doesn't really work if Bobbie exists. So I just erased her entire existence. Hope you don't mind.


JC was surprised to hear the muted throb of music when he stepped off the elevator. They'd managed to secure the entire floor, and he'd just left Chris, Justin and Joey at the club, which meant Lance must be playing the music. It didn't sound much like his usual taste.

Curious, JC strolled down the hall toward Lance's room. He could feel the bass beat vibrating beneath his feet. The closed door blocked out the majority of the melody. JC raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. He wasn't supposed to be back for hours yet. Hell, it wasn't even 11 o'clock yet. There was no way for Lance to know that JC would grow tired of the club so quickly.

JC didn't often go clubbing with the guys, but when he did he usually threw himself into it with as much vigor as Justin tended to display. Still...there were those nights when he sat at the table, beer in hand, looked out over the dance floor and found himself unable to summon a spark of interest in any of the girls there.

Being bi hadn't been that hard for JC. Knowing he found guys equally as appealing as women didn't mean he had to pursue them. So when NSync took off, he turned his concentration to the fairer sex with little more than a faint pang of regret.

He only really thought about it on those nights when he found himself hungry for planes instead of curves, for a weight pressing him into the mattress, for that sweet burn inside. Then JC would sit there in the club, nursing a beer to ease the ache and searching for a girl who might suffice. He never found one.

Night like that didn't usually bother JC. He'd just mentally shrug and ride out the mood. The only problem was, these nights were growing disturbingly frequent. JC had counted the other night. It had been almost six weeks since he last brought a girl back to his room. Before that, it had been four weeks. Normally he had one of his 'off' nights once every couple of months, not every time he went out for weeks on end.

It had gotten bad enough that Justin had called him on it one night. At the time JC had be unconcerned, just shrugging and telling his friend he just hadn't been in the mood lately. JC was beginning to think he might never be in the mood again.

Take tonight. The five of them had planned to go clubbing. Lance had backed out at the last minute with a regretful shrug, pleading FreeLance business. JC had found himself following Lance with his eyes and half-wishing he was similarly busy. But he'd shaken off the mood quickly enough.

That is, he'd shaken it off right up until they'd actually settled at a table with a beer apiece. Joey nudged the three of them and nodded to a particular girl with a little grin, and JC looked over to check her out. He must have made an appropriate comment, but the truth was, his eyes settled on her and...nothing. No little frisson of want, no interest, nothing but a distant aesthetic appreciation. It only made it worse that she was exactly his type.

After that it was hard to tolerate Justin's mild obnoxiousness or Chris's excessive friendliness, or Joey's repeated attempts to interest JC in some girl or another (these inevitably ended in Joey's decision to pursue her himself). Sometimes you really had to be drunk with people to enjoy it. If Lance had been there he might have hung around awhile longer, if only to watch his friend dance with an ease that eluded him when forced into choreographed steps. But Lance had chosen to stay in for once, and JC had ended up back at the hotel with nothing more than a slight buzz from the alcohol.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, JC rapped firmly on the door. He waited. No answer, but the music was easily loud enough to cover the sound of knocking. JC knocked again anyway. Still no answer. Stupidly, he tried the doorknob. The rooms in this hotel locked with keycards. There was no way the door could be unlocked.

It swung partly open anyway.

JC blinked at the cracked door for a moment before realizing that it had stuck slightly, refusing to close completely unless given a solid push. Lance must not have pulled the door all the way shut. JC hesitated for a moment. Lance surely thought the door locked...but he had knocked. Twice. He would just peek in, see if Lance was busy. JC took a small step forward and peered around the edge of the door.

All at once the desire that had been missing in the club went rushing through JC. His fingertips tingled. A ball of heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach and reached out to spread a flush of want. JC felt himself stirring, hardening, and was helpless to quench the reaction. He was too busy watching.

Lance was dancing.

Not like he did on stage, so careful, so precise. Not even like he did in the clubs, with half an eye on the people around him and his attention on whoever he was dancing with. If that was dancing, this was...JC didn't know what this was. Lance's body swayed with the heavy beat of the music. The motions of his hips traced sinuous curves in the air, guided by the undeniably erotic rise and fall of the vocals. Lance danced for himself, with himself, unselfconsciously. His hand touched the air, his torso, his thighs... His eyes were closed, but instead of concentration his face displayed simple contentment and, perhaps, just a bit of wistfulness.

JC couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the personal performance. Lance was dressed in ordinary white boxers and a white wifebeater, but leather and glitter and vinyl couldn't have made him sexier. He looked real. JC would have said primal, if the overwhelming impression hadn't been one of seduction. He had no idea Lance could dance like that.

Lance's movements stilled. The music had stopped. JC held his breath, waiting to see if Lance would open his eyes and see JC lurking in the doorway to his room. Maybe he ought to duck out now. Lance would hear the door shutting, but if JC ran for the elevator and got out of the hotel, he wouldn't know who it had been...

"JC?" Too late. Lance hurried over to the sound system and turned off the music just as a new song came on. JC struggled to get himself under control. How Lance had failed to notice his arousal he didn't know, but he wasn't about to waste the reprieve.

"Sorry to interrupt," he began, genuinely apologetic. "I left the club early and heard the music..." JC trailed off, unsure of where to go from there.

Lance waved the apology off, though he seemed to be fighting down a blush. "How'd you get into the room?" he asked, looking a bit worried. He had a right to be, JC figured. The locks on their doors were the last line of defense, so to speak.

"It was partway open," JC remained in the doorway, somehow reluctant to invade Lance's space. "I guess it didn't close all the way when you shut it. I knocked twice and, uh, then it just swung open." A lie, but a little white one, JC thought.

"Oh. Thanks." Lance paused, the seemed to give a mental shrug. "You want to come in?"

In answer, JC walked over to the bed and settled himself on it, back to the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. After a moment Lance sat facing him, Indian-style. "Lance?" JC asked after a moment, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you dance like that on stage? With that kind of energy, I mean," JC hurried to explain. The questions seemed to break the discomfort of the moment, though JC had expected the acknowledgement that he had...watched to make things worse. Instead, Lance visibly relaxed, as though he'd expected JC to object to his dancing.

Lance leaned forward, propping his elbows up on his knees. "I always figured you shouldn't dance like that for just anyone," Lance shrugged. "It's personal, you know? I don't want to give something like that to millions of fans. They get enough of us."

JC looked down at his hands for a long moment, trying to resolve the question that had just occurred to him. "I don't...you...when I..."

"Spit it out, Jace," Lance said, but he was smiling.

JC sighed. "You don't...mind...that I dance like that all the time, do you?"

Lance just blinked at him for a moment. "God, no! Why would I mind? I give what I'm comfortable with, and you give what you're comfortable with. Sometimes I wish I could put that much passion into every performance. When you're out there, Jace, you," he paused, searching for a word, "you vibrate. Energy just crackles off of you. I envy that."

"Don't," JC smiled over at his band mate. "If you sang yourself into exhaustion every show, then who would take care of me when I do the same?" Lance just laughed and gently slapped JC on the leg. JC fought down a little shiver at the contact.

"Why did you leave the club so early, anyway?" Lance asked, glancing over at the clock. It read 11:23 in glowing red numbers.

JC shrugged. "Just not interested."

"Yeah, I've had nights like that."

JC looked over at Lance, surprised. "You do? You're almost always out with the guys. Must not happen very often."

Lance shrugged and plucked at the blanket on the crisply made hotel bed. "I like going out. Doesn't mean I want to pick up a girl...every time."

"I call nights like that off nights," JC said thoughtlessly. He let himself slide down the headboard until it supported only his head and shoulders.

Lance tipped himself forward until he was sprawled on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands. "You've been having a lot of those lately."

JC looked down the bed at Lance, surprised. "I didn't think anyone had noticed."

"Just me," Lance said softly.

Quiet.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay." Quiet. "JC?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone I dance?"

"Okay." JC wasn't quite sure how his next words made it around the mental filter that usually prevented dangerous comments from reaching his lips. "Hey, Lance? Would you ever let someone watch you dance?"

"Depends on who's watching," Lance answered immediately.

JC shifted onto his side and propped his head up on his hand so he could look more directly at Lance. "Um. Just me."

Lance gave him a long look. Long enough that JC was about to retract the request when he answered. "Yeah. I'd dance for you."

Somehow, that sounded a lot different from what JC had asked. It also sounded better, so he kept his mouth shut and nodded his thanks.

JC didn't know what he expected to change after that, but nothing did. Well, nothing between him and Lance, anyway. He had caught himself checking Lance out a few times, which was odd, because for five years he'd managed not to act on the always-lurking desire for the younger man in any way. Their conversation that night kept creeping into his mind at odd moments.

It was like seeing Lance dance had dissolved some sort of block in JC's mind. He started noticing stuff, stuff he'd been doing for a long time but never wondered about. Like, unless specifically directed by the photographer, he always managed to sit beside Lance. Like lying down for naps on the bus even when he wasn't really tired, because it was four more hours to the venue and Lance was on the other bus. He slept better when he was rooming with Lance than with anyone else, even though he tended to stay up far later, talking.

And then there was the stuff that he'd never done before, even if it had crossed his mind more than once. On top of catching himself watching Lance, JC realized that he was letting ordinary friendly touches linger a little longer than usual. And his friendly teasing had changed its tone.

He was flirting.

It would have been weird, if Lance hadn't been flirting back. None of the other guys seemed to noticed anything unusual, which made JC wonder sheepishly how careful he'd really been before.

Besides flirting, JC found himself waiting. Waiting for some sign that Lance was going to stay in that night. Waiting for an invitation to watch him dance. It came, quietly, almost a month later.

"Hey, Lance," Justin poked his head into the latest hotel room JC had found himself sharing with Lance. Lance was peering over some documents, presumably from FreeLance. "You coming out tonight?" Justin asked.

"Don't think so, Just," Lance answered with a shrug. "I've got some FreeLance stuff I really should take care of tonight. Tomorrow, okay?"

It was the same excuse as last time. Exactly the same.

"JC?"

JC glanced over at Lance. Lance tilted his head back just slightly and flicked his eyes over at the boom box he'd hauled into the hotel room.

"Not tonight, J," JC shrugged. "Not in the mood."

Justin snorted. "You're never in the mood lately," he said, but left without protest.

"I suspect I've been putting a damper on the partying," JC said dryly.

"He certainly didn't put up much protest," Lance agreed, chuckling. He set the sheaf of papers he'd been holding aside and climbed off the bed. Going to his bag, he crouched down and began digging through it. Soon the muffled clatter of jewel cases sliding against each other emerged.

"Do you actually have FreeLance stuff to take care of, or is that just the standard excuse?"

"I do have business to take care of...it's just not that urgent. So a little bit of both." Lance finally seemed to settle on a CD. Taking it out of the bag, he set it on top of the stereo and strolled out of the room. JC assumed he was checking if the other guys were actually gone and left his bed to check out what CD Lance had selected. To his surprise it was a homemade mix labeled simply, "Dance".

JC put the CD back down on top of the player just as Lance reentered the room. "Where do you want me?" JC asked uncertainly.

Lance seemed a little surprised by the question. It figured - he'd never had an audience before. "Anywhere," he shrugged, and waved in the general direction of the two beds.

JC settled for perching on the end of Lance's bed, since it was directly in front of the stereo. Lance crouched to put the CD in the player and hit the play button. He didn't straighten right away, though. Instead he knelt by the boom box and slowly turned up the volume from a whisper until JC could feel it pulsing through him like a second heartbeat.

For a long moment, Lance did nothing but stand there. JC began to wonder if Lance felt uncomfortable dancing knowing he was there. No sooner had the thought occurred to him than Lance started almost grinding his hips in a tight but definite circle. Movement seemed to spread through him from that point until his entire body was twisting to the beat.

JC realized he'd caught his breath and forced himself to exhale and inhale again. Then he had to lick his lips to moisten them, because his mouth seemed to have gone dry. He remembered, faintly, thinking that it sounded better to have Lance dancing for him than to just watch him.

He was right.

Lance had thrown his head back, eyes shut, but he was facing JC as he danced. Every roll of his hips, every ripple through his body, every motion of hands and feet was directed at JC, for his benefit. And yet somehow Lance still radiated the sensuous abandon JC had sensed the first time.

JC was aching with desire before the chorus repeated itself for the first time. By the second verse, it was all he could do not to stand up and join Lance. To place his hands on those hips, to grind back against him... Instead, JC watched every movement with rapt attention.

When the song came to an end JC felt a sharp pang of regret. Lance simply stood, eyes closed, and waited for the next track on the CD. JC almost moaned when Lance slid into the dance again, then flushed in embarrassment and bit his lip to silence himself. The second track, the second dance, was seduction distilled. JC actually found himself reaching out to touch once or twice. Whether or not Lance knew it, his every movement invited, no, begged JC to touch him. JC had no idea what the words of the song were, he only knew that the throaty voice spilling from the speakers was aching to be touched, to touch, as painfully as JC was. Lance brought that ache to life with his body.

It took a moment to register when blue eyes met green. JC didn't know how long Lance had been watching him watching. He expected to feel disconnected from himself when he reached out a hand to Lance. He expected to feel as though the entire situation were unreal.

Instead JC found himself almost overwhelmed with the bone deep connection he felt to this moment. The music possessed him, pulsed through him, drew him up off the bed. No, that was Lance. Lance had clasped his outstretched hand, and JC realized that sometime the song of seduction had given way to a faster, almost Latin beat.

Lance drew him close and wrapped JC's hand around his waist, settling the palm of it against the small of his back. JC lifted the other hand on his own initiative and settled on Lance's hip. Lance's arms wrapped around JC's neck and they were moving together now, hips grinding together to the beat, and JC didn't even care that he was hard as rock, because damn if Lance wasn't, too...

JC tucked his head into the curve of Lance's neck and breathed in the musk of warm skin and just a little sweat. Before he had even really realized he was going to do it, he flicked his tongue out and tasted the tempting slope of neck and shoulder. Lance's throat trembled with some unvoiced sound. JC couldn't help it - he wanted to hear that sound. He nibbled a little higher on Lance's neck, and oh yes that was a moan...

The song had changed again. The two of them changed with it, movements growing slow, languid. Their hips slid together, long strokes instead of tight circles. The seduction successful, desire brought to the surface, now they teased each other. JC slid the hand that rested on Lance's hip all the way around his back and slipped the other under the thin fabric of Lance's t-shirt. Warm skin greeted his questing fingers. Muscles rippled under JC's splayed hand as Lance continued to dance. JC just rode the movements, his cheek pressed against Lance's, lips trailing along Lance's jawbone.

Then both of Lance's hands were at the small of JC's back and he found himself leaning back against them, his hands coming around to stroke Lance's chest through the t-shirt. There was a harsh beat in the sensual song. Lance hit it perfectly, jerking JC close to him, pressing JC's hands between them, leaving their lips bare centimeters apart.

Blue eyes met green and then JC was closing his eyes, closing that narrow gap, and their lips met. JC forgot the music. The lips on his were soft but strong. They claimed him, opened him to Lance's questing tongue. JC met Lance's slick caresses with is own, tasting, exploring, kissing so deeply he felt lost, so beautifully lost.

Insistent hands pulled at JC's shirt. He surrendered it gladly and reached out to return the favor only to find Lance had already discarded his own shirt. Instead, his hands met the smooth expanse of Lance's chest. Catching his breath, JC choked a pleased little moan in his throat and bent his head to taste.

Lance chuckled softly and tangled his hands in JC's hair, not guiding, only encouraging. JC's warm mouth left wet spots that quickly cooled in the open air. Then he laved Lance's nipple with his tongue and capture the tight bud between his teeth, not biting, just...tugging. Lance moaned aloud and held JC there arching into the caress.

JC smiled against Lance's skin and released the nipple, turning his attention to the other and lavishing similar attention on it. "Jace," Lance moaned softly, fingers tightening almost painfully in JC's hair. JC lifted his mouth from Lance's chest and leaned in for another kiss. Lance captured his lips hungrily. JC gave himself up to the kiss even as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Lance's sweatpants and pushed them down.

Lance released JC's mouth with a last tug on his lower lip and walked JC backwards a step or two, stepping out of the sweats at the same time. His hands moved over JC's chest and back, sliding up and down his arms. JC had never thought his forearms could spark such trembling pleasure until Lance trailed his fingers over them. Lance found ordinary spots on his body and turned them into bright points of heat that left JC trembling, eyes half closed, aware of nothing but his hands on Lance - his grip holding himself up rather than caressing, now - and Lance's hands on him.

Then Lance drew him in past arm's length and JC realized that somewhere along the way Lance had stripped them of any remaining clothing. JC's only response was to sigh in satisfaction and press himself closer against Lance, savoring the slide of skin against skin. He could feel Lance's hardness pressed against one thigh, smiled and rocked into Lance.

They both gasped and pressed closer. JC felt the familiar ache of want course through him. A desire so long denied, but now he didn't hesitate to whisper it to Lance.

"Make love to me," he pleaded. It never occurred to him to wonder at his phrasing. He just flicked the lobe of Lance's ear with his tongue and repeated the request.

"Yes," Lance breathed, and pulled JC close and kissed him passionately for a long moment. Their lips parted sooner than Lance would have liked, but JC was pulling him eagerly towards the bed. Lance would have laughed if JC hadn't looked so unbelievably sexy crawling up onto the bed.

JC knelt on the bed, waiting for Lance to join him. Lance crawled into his lover's arms and rubbed up against him for a long moment before reaching over and pulling a small tube from the nightstand.

"JC?" Lance asked, uncertain for a moment.

JC leaned in and kissed him, reaching up at the same time to wrap Lance's fingers firmly about the tube. "Yes," he murmured. "I want this. I want you." He lay down on his stomach but propped himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder to watch Lance.

Lance uncapped the lube and paused, running an appreciative hand down the slope of JC's back and up over the curve of his butt. "So beautiful," he murmured, and leaned down to place a kiss at the nape of JC's neck. JC squirmed, pressing up into Lance's hand where it rested on one cheek. "So impatient," Lance chuckled, but squeezed some of the gel onto his fingers and rubbed them together to warm it.

JC lay, relaxed, eyes half lidded, head turned to watch Lance though his attention was more on the spots on his back that Lance had touched. Warm, slick fingers gently touched his tailbone, then slid downwards from there to find the hidden opening. JC moaned softly and pressed back against the tentative fingers. Lance pressed one finger inside of JC, biting his lip when he felt the tight, grasping heat and released it in a gasp at JC's uninhibited moan of pleasure.

"More," JC half murmured, half moaned. He looked almost draped over the bed. His head was pillowed on his arms. His legs lay splayed without shame, one knee bent more than the other. His hips rocked against the bed sheets. JC pressed his ass eagerly back against Lance's touch, then let himself sway forward to relieve tensed muscles, only to repeat the motion. Lance was transfixed by the rhythm of JC's desire even as he slid another finger within, dragging another heartfelt moan from his lover.

"Lance," JC's voice was breathless, strained with the threads of control. "Want you. Now."

Lance wanted to say, 'Wow, monosyllabic,' but somehow all that made it past his lips was, "Yes." Moving to kneel between JC's legs he quickly spread the gel over himself and moved to press against the opening to JC's body. He paused for a moment, hands braced beside JC's shoulders, forehead resting between JC's shoulder blades, and gathered his control.

When JC was trembling beneath him in anticipation, soft pleas tumbling from his lips, and Lance felt he could move without coming he pushed forward. He slid into JC in one long, slow stroke. JC sobbed, not in pain but in pleasure. Lance was buried in him and it burned a little, that sweet burn he'd ached so desperately for.

Then Lance was moving and somewhere JC found the strength to rise to hands and knees, to surge back against Lance's thrusts. He had to lock his elbows when Lance grazed his prostate and ride out the waves of ecstasy. A perfect thrust fractured JC's control and sent him down on his elbows. Lance lay heavily against his back, bearing his down into the mattress, taking control of their movement from JC. Rhythm and pace were both left to Lance, who slid his hands down JC's arms and tangled their fingers together.

JC couldn't contain his pleasure. Moans and gasps and incoherent words, fractured phrases and choked gasps poured from his lips. Lance drove into him, now fast and hard, now slow, deep, sweet...

When at last JC came he bore down hard on Lance and they came together. Lance wrapped his arms around JC and rode out their climax with his lips pressed against his lover's damp skin.

At last, weak with their release, Lance pulled JC onto his side so he could hold him without crushing him beneath Lance's own weight.

Both of them were drifting towards sleep when JC reached up and took one of Lance's hands, clasped over his chest, in his own. "Save this dance for me?" he asked sleepily.

"Always," Lance murmured, and pressed a kiss against JC's shoulder before drifting off.

The CD player, forgotten, spun with a soft hum, the last song long finished.