"All right," Justin said. "All right, I'm doing it." He snapped his phone shut. "Although man, if that's not the definition of irony, I don't know what is. Lance Bass bitching about someone else's phone use."
"You wouldn't know the definition of irony if it bit you on the ass," Lance said. "Besides, it wasn't my phone ringing all morning."
"Three times!" Justin said.
"Three. The last time didn't count. I hung up on Chris by accident. He was just calling me back."
"Whatever." Lance held out his hand and Justin gave up the phone. "I'm just saying, I'm not the one who's been on the phone all morning. In fact, my phone hasn't rung once."
Justin sat up and pushed his sunglasses back onto his head. "It hasn't," he said. "Is it broken?"
"No," Lance said, "no, it's not broken. But there's this little button you can push that keeps it from ringing when you don't want it to."
"You turned your phone off?"
"Oh, you've heard of it."
"I can't believe you turned your phone off. Why would you do that?"
"Maybe because I wanted to spend the afternoon doing something more important than answering the phone. Like maybe spending some time with you."
"No, really," Justin said.
"Is that so hard to believe? That I just want to have you all to myself for a day, no interruptions?"
"No," Justin said. "Really."
Lanced sighed. He didn't really blame Justin. It sounded stupid when Lance said it out loud. Hell, it sounded stupid inside his head. Four phone calls in a morning was nothing. Lance knew that. He was used to it, used to their lives being sliced and diced into hour-long pieces, thirty minutes, three, shows and interviews and songs. Everybody got a piece of them, all of them, but Lance got the biggest piece of Justin, the best piece, and usually that satisfied him. Usually he never even wanted more.
Lance slid out of his chair and crawled across the deck to Justin's towel. Justin grinned and spread his legs obligingly, and Lance knelt between them and braced himself on his hands, crouching over Justin.
"I just want you," he said. "For today. I just want you."
Justin licked his lips, bent one knee, pushed his sunglasses back down. "Well, okay," he said. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?"
Lance kissed him, hovering over Justin, nothing touching but their lips. Lance tried to hide his hunger, but he knew he'd failed when Justin pulled away a little and put his hand up to Lance's cheek. "Hey," Justin said, "hey," and Lance kissed him again.
"Lance," Justin said, "what's wrong?"
"I want you," Lance said, and dropped his mouth to Justin's stomach.
"Well, you've got me," Justin said, and put a hand in Lance's hair and tugged. Lance knew what Justin wanted, knew Justin would try to pull Lance into his arms and rock him easily and whisper to him until Lance would tell him what was wrong. But Lance had already told him. He shook his head, mouth still against Justin's stomach, and Justin gasped as Lance's lips skated over his skin.
"I want you," Lance said again, and Justin dropped his hands to his sides and tilted his head back. Lance's lips moved over Justin's body, not softly, leaving behind traces that spelled out a word only Lance could read. "Want you," Lance said again, mumbling against the marks he'd left, "want you, want." Justin's breath hitched and his back arched, and he was rocking Lance now as his body twisted beneath Lance's. All Lance wanted to do was to push inside him, as deeply as he could, deeper than anything had ever been, but he held back. He was afraid that he'd still want, after he did it, while he was doing it. He was afraid he'd always be wanting. He was afraid.
Justin thrust up against him and moaned, his head tossing from side to side on the wooden deck. Lance moved up and covered Justin's mouth with his own, swallowing every sound he made. Justin was shaking under him, his legs spread, his arms still out at his sides. Lance didn't move until Justin stopped shaking.
Lance rolled over onto his back and lay staring at the sky. Justin knelt next to him. Lance shut his eyes. The sun was very bright. He pushed at Justin's hands when he felt them tugging at his swim trunks, but Justin persisted. Lance kept his eyes shut as Justin draped himself over Lance, burying his face against the curve of Lance's neck. Justin was warm and smooth and Lance could feel him against every inch of his body. Justin's lips moved against Lance's ear, and Lance put his hands up to push Justin away. There was one word pulsing in Lance's veins, over and over again, shrieking against his skin from the inside, and he was afraid there was nothing Justin could say that would drown out that word.
"I love you," Justin whispered, and Lance let his hands fall to his sides.
Lance didn't know how long they lay like that, Justin's body heavy on his, Justin's voice light in Lance's ear. He felt drugged, by the sun and by something he'd only felt a few times before, in fleeting moments that passed almost before he recognized them. He felt full.
He thought they might have stayed like that all morning, all day, forever, until Justin's phone started to ring. Justin laughed against his neck. Lance swung his arm out across the deck and swept the phone into the lake.
"You fucker!" Justin said, lifting his head to watch the phone sink to the depths. "I can't believe you did that."
Lance kissed him. "Mine," he said.
"No it fucking wasn't! That was --"
Lance kissed him again, and didn't stop until Justin was moaning. "Mine," he said again.
"Yours," Justin said, and kissed him.
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