SEVEN

 

It all made sense. Lance had agreed to do this, and if there was going to be any point to it at all, then, of course, he needed to be seen out in public with Ken. Of course, they had to go on dates so that everyone could see them. Otherwise, there was really no point in even doing this fake boyfriend thing.

Still, the full scope of it hadn’t really kicked in for Lance. Not until Ken casually looked at him and asked him when they were going out. Not until Lester told them both that he had gotten Noah, who was Darien’s boyfriend and who was still the social media manager, to start carefully placing rumors on the internet that Lance and Ken had started dating.

Or maybe it didn’t even hit then. Maybe it wasn’t until he and Ken were out at a movie at a theater in San Francisco, having made a big entrance, walking close together and giving each other secret little smiles. Or maybe until Ken gripped Lance’s arm and drew it over his broad shoulders, cuddling up to him as the lights went down.

People were looking. It was working. But the whole movie, Lance was uncomfortably aware of his best friend’s body, and the strangeness of having it so close to his. Not that he minded touching Ken, it was just a little bit bizarre. Or a lot.

As they left the theater, Ken took his hand, slipping his fingers through Lance’s. Uneasily, Lance let it happen. Ken was, it seemed, much better at this than Lance was, and truthfully, Lance was grateful that he’d been paired with him. Imagine trying to do this with Aaron!

“Okay, handsome,” Ken said, grinning at him. God, the guy was enjoying this, wasn’t he? He probably knew how uncomfortable Lance was with this. “Let’s just walk around. Let people see us.”

It made sense. There were a few paparazzi around already, snapping pictures, and they only attracted more the more they walked. They would be in all of the tabloids, the same ones that had reported Lance being with different women. Within a week, everyone in America who cared, or even who went through a supermarket checkout, would know that they were dating.

And all they had to do was walk, hand in hand. Everyone would just make their assumptions from that. Was it so great a price to pay? It wasn’t like he and Ken wouldn’t be hanging out together anyway.

Lance did his best to ignore the photographers. He hadn’t gotten used to it yet, how people cared about his life so much. He really didn’t feel like he’d changed that much, he was still the same person that he’d always been, it’s just that people seemed to care a hell of a lot more now than they had before.

He stopped as his eyes skimmed over a plate glass window and then caught on the scene within. It was a pet store and framed neatly in the clear glass of the window, there were three adorable little balls of fluff batting at each other, playing with each other, tumbling over each other’s head and waving their tiny paws at each other ferociously.

“Huh,” Ken commented, drawing to a stop beside him, looking at the display as well. “I didn’t know you were into cats, babe.”

Would that ever get to be something he was used to? Ken was right to call him by those affectionate names because anything that they said to each other might be overheard, but it was just subtly wrong. Not gross or anything, it just didn’t feel right.

“Yeah. These guys are pretty cute,” Lance admitted, before turning his gaze away and continuing to walk. The little creatures were pretty cute, but Lance didn’t have any faith in his ability to take care of something that tiny. Hell, he barely trusted himself to take care of himself, much less anyone else.

Finally, they made it back to the hotel where they were staying, and it was a relief to step into the suite of rooms that the band was sharing, all linked by a common space. It felt like a huge, awkward weight was lifted from him as he was able to release Ken’s hand and step away from him.

Jamie was there, idly watching TV as he brushed his hair, which was, Lance couldn’t help but notice, wet from the shower. It was darker than usual with the moisture, almost a deep brown, with only hints of the fire that normally gleamed within it, and it made his skin look even more flawless than it usually did.

Jamie glanced up as they came in, his face expressionless, and then went back to what he was doing with nothing more than a nod of greeting. The tension which simmered between Ken and Jamie made things deeply awkward whenever they were together, so it didn’t shock Lance at all when Ken disappeared off to his own room without saying anything at all, without even a grunt or the slightest acknowledgment of Jamie.

For a moment, Lance considered going to his own room. He could use some time alone, after that strangely awkward experience with Ken. But then, as he just so happened to look at Jamie, he saw a rare unguarded moment as the beautiful redhead looked at Ken as he shut the door just short of actually slamming it.

Jamie looked so tired, for just a second. So vulnerable and much younger and less cynical than usual. The sight of him touched Lance’s heart, and even though Jamie pulled himself together quickly, even though he looked back at the television like it meant nothing to him that Ken was, even Lance had to admit, being an enormous dick to Jamie, Lance knew better.

It bugged Jamie, just like it would bug most people. No matter how tough Jamie liked to pretend he was, he was human, and maybe even more sensitive than a lot of people. For whatever reason, he just didn’t want to show it.

Maybe Lance was wrong, but that was the sense he got. And even though he knew it was a terrible, no good, very bad idea, he found himself dropping down onto the couch beside Jamie, who didn’t say anything but who moved a little to give Lance room.

The silence lingered, and Lance found himself wanting to say something, anything, to fill it. He wanted to apologize for Ken, but then, he would need to apologize for his own actions, too. Or lack of actions, really, was more accurate. He knew that Ken was being a jerk, and he knew why, and he wasn’t doing nearly enough to stop it.

That was starting to seem more and more uncool to him, but, of course, the situation was a little bit more complicated than that. Why couldn’t he and Jamie have met when there was no band to worry about? No Ken, and no Lester?

With a sigh, Lance reclined back against the couch, and after a while, he got up, and he did go to his room. But instead of staying there, he just grabbed a sketchbook, one that he hadn’t used in ages, and went back into the living room.

Something about being around Jamie made him want to draw again, and these days, as tired as he was from the work it took to be in the band, inspiration came seldom. When he had it, he had to strike, because mostly, he was too exhausted.

It was strangely peaceful, he realized, sketching while Jamie sat and watched television. The other man drew his legs up onto the couch, his hair dying into wild curls. Quietly, Lance started to sketch him, because as far as drawing subjects went, he could do a lot worse than this gorgeous man.

He looked like a statue, a marble sculpture, except for the dark fire of his hair. Lance tried to be careful, he didn’t know how Jamie would feel about being drawn, but slowly, the other man’s eyes slid around to him, and he shot Lance a confident little smirk.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, but the way he said it, with a coy tilt of his head, it was pretty clear to Lance that he knew very well. It wasn’t like the guy could exactly fail to know just how utterly, breathtakingly beautiful he was.

“You,” Lance admitted, and Jamie’s smirk widened into a grin.

“Okay,” Jamie allowed, and then he stretched out on the couch, placing his feet in Lance’s lap, squirming around until he got comfortable. “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile that came to his own lips.

“Really? A Titanic reference?” That was pretty funny, coming from someone who tried to give the impression that he was way too cool for that sort of thing. And the whole time, too, Lance was far too aware of the casual, intimate way that Jamie had propped his feet up on Lance’s lap.

Before long, Lance had a simple sketch done, not anything fancy but he was pleased with his work. He was a bit rusty, but it had turned out pretty well, he thought, the lines crisp and clear, the face recognizably Jamie’s.

“Can I see?” Jamie asked, and Lance shrugged and handed it over. That was probably a fair enough thing to ask—he figured—since it was pretty relevant to Jamie. Not to mention, while it made him a bit nervous to show his work off, especially since it had been so long since he had, it was also sort of nice to let someone else see.

“Huh.” Jamie looked at the worn old sketchbook for a long time and then smirked a little bit at him. It wasn’t like it mattered if Jamie liked it or not, Lance told himself, but he couldn’t deny the clawing of anxiety at his gut. “You’re pretty good. You know that?”

Lance tried not to like that, he really did. He tried to deny the warm glow that started in the base of his stomach and radiated through his body, but deny it or not—it was there. His hands shifted down to rest on Jamie’s feet, which were still nestled in his lap, and without even really thinking about it he started to rub them.

“Oh fuck,” Jamie whispered, and he wiggled his toes in his socks, giving a soft little noise that was closer to a purr than anything else. He pressed his feet toward Lance’s fingers, and Lance smiled a little at the reaction and rubbed over the toes, cupped the heel, and even pressed into the arches of the feet.

Jamie’s eyes closed, and he slipped the sketchbook onto the coffee table, head resting back on the arm of the couch as he pushed his feet toward Lance. Lance grinned. Jamie was such a sensual being, and unfortunately for him, unfortunately for both of them, they had that in common.

“Does that feel good?” Lance prompted, and Jamie slit his eyes, a flash of cerulean, to peer at Lance, giving him a nod before he settled back down.

“Yeah. Don’t stop,” Jamie demanded, and even though Lance was fully, completely aware that he should, even though he knew that this was a terrible idea, he didn’t stop. Anything that would make Jamie make noises like that, he found far too compelling to stay away from.

It was just a foot rub, though. It didn’t mean anything. Or so Lance told himself, excusing himself from the behavior which he knew wasn’t nearly as innocent as he might like to pretend.

Only he was getting hard, and he couldn’t deny that. His cock was swelling in his pants, and Jamie’s feet were far too close to it. It didn’t seem possible that Jamie could miss it, not for long, and when he saw the smirk of pure mischief on the other man’s beautiful face, he knew very well that he’d been caught.

“Huh. Is this a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Jamie purred, and his eyes opened again, everything about his slender, seemingly relaxed body on the couch seductive and sensual and far too erotic for Lance’s peace of mind.

How was any human being so damn hot? How was Lance supposed to resist, when Jamie was smirking at him like that, when the ball of his foot was slipping up to rest lightly on the bulge which was swelling more than ever, making the front of Lance’s pants feel far too tight and restrictive?

“… Jamie …”

The other man sat up, then, pulling his feet out of Lance’s grasp and shifting closer to him on the couch. He slid into his lap instead, straddling him, gazing down into Lance’s eyes with the sweetest, most aroused eyes, pale cheeks flushed, and that smirk lingering on those beautiful lips of his.

Lance had tasted those lips before, and now that they were so close to him once again, he had no idea how he was going to keep himself from doing it once more.

“Everyone’s asleep,” Jamie whispered—a blatant challenge in his eyes, a challenge that Lance somehow had to resist. Even from the beginning, though, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to, and that it was hopeless. This man was just way, way too good at turning him on, and the harder he got, the more the heat flew through him, the sparks shooting between his eyes and Jamie’s, the more he realized that he wasn’t sure it was even possible for him not to want this man.

“Yeah,” Lance breathed. It was late. They’d been hanging out, Jamie watching TV and Lance drawing, for a long time. No one had stirred out of their room in at least an hour, and truthfully, Lance knew that he should go to bed. Jerk off, if he had to release this tension which coiled inside of him.

But his hand wouldn’t feel even half as good as Jamie could make him feel.

“So …” Jamie reached down between their bodies, cupping the hardness that he found in Lance’s pants, rubbing his fingers teasingly over the swollen head. “Let me take care of you. Just once more. No one will know.”

Lance groaned. He rocked his hips up, rubbing against Jamie’s teasing, talented hand, knowing full well that this man could give him so much more. Knowing, just from the one time they’d been together before, that Jamie could make it good for him.

There was really no chance of him resisting. He leaned in, pressing his lips against Jamie’s, feeling the heat and the pressure and the tension writhe and build inside of him. At that moment, something almost crazed woke up in him, something reckless and fearless, something that had probably been inevitable from the moment that Jamie pushed his feet into Lance’s lap.

They kissed, and any restraint that Lance had managed to hold onto was swept away in the pure, burning arousal that Jamie brought up so effortlessly in his eager body. He moaned, and their tongues swept together, bodies straining to get closer, tugging at each other’s clothing.

Lance knew that they should go into a bedroom, his or Jamie’s. Sure, it was late, and sure, everyone was most likely asleep, but they could be caught. That reckless part of him, though, half hoped that they would be. Or he at least enjoyed the thought of it, which added extra urgency to their movements.

Besides, it probably wasn’t a good idea for them to share a bed. Things had already gotten so far out of hand. Or that was how he justified staying right where he was to himself.

Desperate hands plucked at each other’s clothing, and Lance tugged down the fly of Jamie’s jeans just as Jamie was opening his up. Talented fingers reached into Lance’s open fly, easing out his cock, and then, with another smirk that practically dripped mischief, Jamie slid down between Lance’s legs and rested on his knees between them.

There were no more words between them, maybe because they both sensed that if they spoke, they would have to admit how terrible an idea this was. As it was, they could just go, just let their bodies take over.

Lance stifled a little cry as Jamie leaned in, his pink tongue slipping out to rub over the head of Lance’s aching dick. Reaching down, Lance tangled his fingers in those soft curls, groaning as he guided it, his hips pressing up off the couch and into Jamie’s mouth.

Jamie’s mouth, so hot and slick and smooth, slid down his shaft, and though it started off slow and careful, neither of them seemed to have much patience for that. Lance gave another low but erotically charged, little cry as he rocked up into Jamie’s mouth.

“Touch yourself,” he gasped softly. He had never been the sort of person who was comfortable with it when his partner wasn’t having a good time, too, and he knew that, far too soon, he was going to come. He wanted Jamie there with him when he did, and to his delight, Jamie’s eyes crinkled up in a smile and Lance got to watch as the other man wrapped his fingers around his own dick and stroked himself in time with the movements of his mouth on Lance’s cock.

Too quickly, the pleasure built inside of him. It was terrifying, really, how quickly all control could be swept away, his body seemingly molten with desire, with the urge to shoot deep inside of that mouth and claim the man who was giving him such pleasure with his mouth.

Claim him? God, he really didn’t need to be thinking like that. But the thoughts kept coming back. He wanted Jamie. He wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and somehow, even though he knew better than to give in to this, he also knew that he wouldn’t ever be able to resist.

“Jamie. I’m so close,” Lance moaned, and Jamie gave that sexy little smile again, the one that involved the corners of his big, expressive eyes, rather than his mouth, which was so beautifully stretched around Lance’s cock. Jamie nodded, and Lance whimpered as the pressure inside him built until there was nothing to stop it. He was going to shoot off, and that was all there was to it.

Somehow, someway, he managed to hold off until he saw the tension building in Jamie’s body. Jamie’s hand slid over his own erection frantically, and even from this distance, Lance could see the gleaming of precome on the head of it. And the little moans he made, muffled as they were by Lance’s cock, might just be the hottest thing in the history of the world.

At the same moment, Jamie coated his hand with his own release, right at the same time as the pressure finally exploded within Lance, rocketing him up and up, building and spiraling until his body was completely out of control, and he spilled himself deep inside that teasing, gorgeous mouth.

For a moment, they remained locked together in that incredibly intimate pose, Jamie’s mouth around Lance’s twitching dick, but then Jamie was gone, shooting him a knowing smirk as he did up his own pants.

Just like that, Jamie was gone, disappeared off into his own room. Lance was left there to tremble through the remnants of his orgasm alone, and only slowly did he manage to do up his own pants and make his way to his room, to his solitary bed.

So easily, Jamie stripped away all of his defense. He knew now that he couldn’t resist him, and he knew, too, that he would need him again. Somehow, he had to try to fight that, he had to keep all of the things he would lose in his mind, but it seemed like when they were in the moment, and things were getting hot and heavy between them, he couldn’t think about anything else.