Sandy the Older sent me this article that managed to use Britney, Justin and Alice Cooper all in the same story. So this is her fault.
"I don't understand," Justin says. "You won it in a bet?" He holds the shirt out in front of him, brow furrowed in a question.
Lance just nods again. It's kind of like a bet. The kind where he paid Alice Cooper's roadie five hundred bucks to snag it for him. He's betting Alice won't kick his ass, so it's not exactly a lie.
"And you really want me to put it on?" Justin's so fucking hot when he asks questions he already knows the answer to, and Lance can't stand it anymore. He pushes Justin back onto the hotel bed and licks his long neck where it's still kind of sweaty. A twist of the wrist and Justin's jeans are undone, zipper stretched out, warm skin almost moist through thin cotton.
Justin's ass comes up off the bed in an arc and Lance stills him with a firm hand on the stomach. "Bet you can't do this without making any noise," he whispers against Justin's ribs, and there's a rumble of laughter that shakes the bed gently.
"Bet what," Justin says, like he doesn't know.
"I want it back."
Justin curls a smile into the pillowcase, murmurs, "Okay. Make me." He rolls over and bites the back of his hand.
They always kiss goodbye long before the bus, something just for them even though the guys know. Joey hits Lance on the shoulder. "Britney wants you?" he reads.
"Nooo," Lance says. "Britney wants me. It says, Britney wants me." He keeps walking to the back lounge.
Joey roars with laughter at the back of the shirt. "Dead," he says, slapping his knee. "Yeah, I imagine she probably does."
END
Credits: Lesa gave insta-feedback. Originally posted to LJ.