Clairvoyant
Copyright © 2001 Em

Sex with Chris is hot and furious with select moments of tenderness. Lance likes it that way because it's so different from their working relationship, which is cold and distant with select moments of tenderness. It always starts with Chris being annoying somehow; tapping him on the shoulder repeatedly and refusing to respond to the "what?" that it prompts. Or, like now, shooting bits of candy or spitballs at him from across the lounge.

No matter how often it happens, Lance never gets it right away. He's not like Justin, for example, who simply levels Chris with a glare and says "fucking stop right now, Chris," and Chris stops. Instead, Lance delicately shakes the offending item from his ungelled hair, picks up his laptop, and scoots over on the couch, hopefully out of reach, all without saying a word. And the next time he's mildly annoyed, but he plasters on a sweet close-lipped smile and nods at Chris in that "okay-I-get-what-you're-doing-very-funny-har-har-you-can-stop-now" way, and moves a little further. After the next time, and the time after that, he starts to get really pissed, but he doesn't let Chris know that he's getting to him, because he knows that's what Chris wants, and Chris won't win this. No way.

Eventually, though, Lance finds himself backed up in a corner of the lounge, with Chris crawling over his lap, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, and oh, he finally realizes, he wants that. And then he gets angry again, because why didn't Chris just say so? But he isn't really mad; he just wants and needs to be, because it's better this way; somehow, it's better when they're angry and it's hard and fast but still not over too quickly, and he doesn't know why it works, but it does. He doesn't open his mouth to Chris right away, keeps his legs clamped together even when the blood pooling in his groin is begging him to recline and open up, because it's his turn to get to Chris now, to make Chris make him ready.

"You're such an asshole," he growls, when Chris pries his legs apart with his knee, grabs at the crotch of his jeans and squeezes cruelly, bites roughly at his chapped lower lip. He thrusts up into that hand and digs his fingers into the back of Chris's neck, brings up a knee between Chris's legs and massages the hardness there with it, lets Chris force him back on the couch.

"And you're a fuckin' tease," Chris replies, dangerously irate, fingers squeezing his thigh, pinching him roughly.

Lance hears JC enter the lounge to ask for something or the other, and then hears JC cut off apologetically and leave as quickly as he came. He doesn't pay that any mind, though, because now Chris's hand is down his jeans and is kneading him through his underwear, and it only takes moments to remove both of their clothes, and even though there is pain, exquisite pain when Chris thrusts himself inside of him, that's the way Lance likes it with Chris. He does groan in discomfort when Chris doesn't slow down at all, inconsiderate of his pleasure, but that's all right, because now it doesn't hurt, in fact now it's pretty damn good and the look of rage on Chris's face is, well. "Selfish bastard," he spits out breathlessly. And Chris touches him then, and it's all he needs, and the orgasm is as hot and furious as the sex, and Chris is pretty much done, too. But before he gets dressed and goes back to the bunk area, Chris kisses him softly, and Lance opens his mouth willingly this time.

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It's usually Lance who goes to Justin; trailing him in the hall to his room, or fetching drinks for him in the club, or just turning off the movie they were watching and looking at him, unblinking, until Justin presses him back into the chair or wall or bed with kisses. Despite this, Lance thinks that he might be the only one alive who doesn't care much for sex with Justin. He knows that Justin can render Chris docile like a puppy after a good screw, and that he can make JC scream and wail as though he's singing an aria. Lance thinks that he could just as easily be brushing his teeth, though.

It's not that the sex is bad; not at all. Justin has a gift, and knows it, and there's nothing wrong with that. But Lance isn't fond of the slowness and the talking; Justin drawing out the pleasure and teasing him, refusing to let him speed himself to climax the way he wants to. And he doesn't care for the eye contact, even though Justin's got that other-wordly beauty that makes him look like he has a halo when lit by backlight. Also, Justin tends to jackrabbit near the end, and Lance doesn't like that much, either; or the way Justin smacks his ass when he rolls over, and says, "you're loose," as if Justin's tight like a virgin, because Lance knows from first-hand experience that Justin is definitely not. Lance really hates when Justin does that, because shit, where does Justin get off, anyway?

But he always comes the hardest with Justin, so he always goes back, because he can't get that from brushing his teeth.

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JC is sneaky about it, often coming to Lance's room under the pretense of playing some new song for him, or suggesting a card game, or something equally innocuous. Lance likes the time he spends with JC on principle, but it certainly doesn't hurt when he inevitably feels JC's lips or fingers brush the back of his neck, feels JC nuzzle that spot with his nose. JC has a breathy way of kissing that Lance could endure all day, and JC is also nothing if not considerate, and that doesn't hurt either. He's got a thing for watching, so Lance usually takes his clothes off for him, touches himself, acts prettier than he thinks he is, anything if he can get JC to kiss him all over, breathing in little puffs against his skin.

Lance knows that JC is into kinky shit. He knows that when JC and Joey get together they go through silk handkerchiefs and blindfolds and that they have six pairs of handcuffs -- three apiece -- and a paddle, and who knew what else. But JC never suggests that kind of thing with him, and for that Lance is grateful, because he's not sure if he could really go along with it; he's not exactly vanilla, but he thinks that what JC and Joey do might be too chocolate for him anyway. Sex with JC is gentle and precious, and "hey," JC moans sometimes when they're both gasping for air and Lance's legs, wrapped around JC's waist, are trembling because he's so close, and he can't speak through his clenched teeth so he simply nods -- "you're so beautiful," JC says. JC is the only one who can make him cry, saying that kind of thing. Lance is JC's favorite, he knows. He tries.

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If Chris is violent, Justin is self-absorbed, and JC is considerate, Joey can only be described as clairvoyant. Lance doesn't understand how Joey knows what Lance wants before even Lance knows, but that seems to be the way it works. Lance hadn't known that stroking the spot behind his knees made him hard, for example, but there it was. Joey's versatile, too, and it's never the same twice with him. He always just knows when Lance has recently been with JC and therefore is feeling exposed and vulnerable, so Joey will turn off all the lights and give Lance a slick, hot blow job, not teasing for a moment, not tender, not treating him like a china doll, even when Lance comes and slides to the floor bonelessly afterwards.

Joey knows when Lance has been with Justin and feels fat and dirty, and he kisses Lance with passion that is not lust, threading his fingers through Lance's hair and stroking his face, covering Lance's body with his larger one so that Lance feels dwarfed and maybe even a little bit tiny. And they won't have sex then; they'll just kiss and cuddle, and Joey will rub Lance's side until it tickles, or Lance falls asleep, or both.

He also knows when Lance has come from Chris; Lance doesn't even have to indicate that he's sore because Joey just knows that, too. On days like those they can still have sex for extended periods; hours, all night. On days like those Joey asks him, "what do you want to do?" and Lance doesn't answer because Joey always does the right thing anyway, and so far it's worked perfectly. Joey's almost too skilled with his mouth, and hands, and just about everything else; his hips lack Justin's fluidity, but who needs fluidity when Joey can make Lance scream, licking behind Lance's ear as he thrusts within him, hands splayed across his stomach, moving up to tweak a nipple.... no, Lance doesn't need fluidity at all.

"Do you like this?" Joey asks him now, reaching behind him to pull Lance's legs up on to his shoulders. He stretches out a hand to smooth the sweat from Lance's temple, brushes Lance's hair back. Lance blinks to clear his double vision, peering up at Joey, and he thinks for a second that the backlighting is giving Joey a halo; he wants to answer 'yes', but before he can he's coming, he feels himself coming, and then he's screaming yet again, in a hoarse broken cry that oh man, Chris is in the room next door and he'll get teased tomorrow but fuck. Joey doesn't make the others scream, and Lance can't imagine why.

Lance thinks that Joey is definitely his favorite, and not just because of the screaming. But mostly because of the screaming.

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