Lexicon
Sometimes Lance feels like he's drowning. Like the water's over his head and he can't breathe. Fluid seeping into his lungs and he feels like he might die.
Most of the time, he convinces himself he's fine, that there's nothing there, but it's times like this when his mind can't overrule his feelings and he's left to drown again.
And those times are becoming more and more frequent lately.
You'd think by now that there was nothing Lance wouldn't know about him. But that couldn't be further from the truth. JC seems to be the only one Lance can't gauge with just one look.
Or maybe it's more that Lance can't comprehend how JC will react, or if he'll even react at all.
He could always talk to Joey about it, it's not like Lance could say anything to surprise him, let alone scare him off. Or even Chris. Chris would probably punch him in the arm and tell him that he shouldn't fuck around if he wanted something so much.
Even Justin would listen to him and then Lance wouldn't need to wonder how he'd react.
That only leaves JC himself, and Lance isn't sure why he's the one person he couldn't talk to about this. Besides the obvious of course.
He wonders exactly when it was that he started feeling like this. When he started harbouring those kinds of thoughts about his friend.
Maybe he'd started to really notice the close proximity that JC always shares with him. The way he always leans into Lance when they're sitting together, thighs so close they're almost touching.
It's the ‘almost' that makes it unbearable.
Lance sometimes wonders if it makes it even worse that JC's so comfortable around him. That there's this air of familiarity that inevitably leads to the two of them touching. The way JC, without thinking rests his hand against Lance's back. Slight pressure that he can feel throughout his whole body.
He can't help but wonder what JC would say if he knew what Lance was feeling, how JC makes him feel. Is he breaching some sort of trust? Some unspoken word that says thou shalt not covet the way thy friend's ass looks when he's dancing. When he moves so fluidly across the room as they rehearse.
JC always looks like that to him, like he's melting. Thick and sinuous and Lance just can't bring himself to not think about how good JC would feel wrapped around his own body. How good the two of them would be together. If only JC would let there be a ‘together'.
Lance is sure that they'd be good.
If only.
But he doesn't think like that because that wouldn't be right. He shouldn't be thinking like that at all.
Lance tries hard not to give in to those thoughts, but sometimes he finds it impossible to not imagine what it would be like. To not let those images play across the back of his eyes in a vivid splash of colour. He tries to shut them out but once his eyes are closed that's all he can see.
Especially when JC falls asleep on the tour bus with his head resting on Lance's shoulder and Lance can feel the heavy weight of JC against him, warm breath on his neck. JC is a restless sleeper and he always moves his body ever-so-slightly so that Lance can feel him, feel the corded muscles moving so fluidly against his own body.
And when Lance moves a little to adjust his weight, JC only burrows closer. Lance can feel the heat from his body despite the layer of clothing that separates them. JC doesn't even think anything of the way that he presses himself against Lance. Unconsciously resting his weight just there, it's not like Lance doesn't like the way that it feels, like the way that JC touches him, like he matters.
They're so close now that even if Lance was to whisper words softly under his breath JC would hear every one of them. The movement as he speaks would echo through his ribcage and JC would feel what Lance wants to say.
JC doesn't think twice about it but that doesn't stop Lance from thinking about nothing else but the way they touch.
Shit, it would just be so easy for Lance to turn in a little and brush his lips across JC's forehead before softly kissing the corner of his mouth. Maybe work a hand under JC's shirt and skim his fingers across skin that's smooth and creamy and… hot. Pads of his fingers exploring JC's torso before brushing against one hard nipple, Lance smiling as he hears the sharp intake of breath and feels JC begin to move his hips involuntarily, fluidly.
Lance reaching out and touching him and JC moving even closer. Like he doesn't want anything else but to have Lance touch him.
Almost like a natural rhythm that builds inside Lance and spreads through the tip of his fingers as they push against the hard muscle of JC's shoulders. JC's skin is hot under his hand, slightly dewy and Lance only wants more. They're touching, JC has this heat, like he's burning against Lance's hand and when Lance moves, his hand ghosting across the muscle of JC's shoulder the other man presses back against him.
Like he wants more, like JC wants Lance, as much as Lance wants him.
Which only makes Lance want so much more.
JC always moves like he dances. A sinuous rhythm that makes Lance stare in awe. A mixture of respect and jealousy but mostly lust, that builds inside Lance and takes over his whole body. JC moves in a way that makes Lance want to move with him, to match the rhythm that his body creates. To move against him.
To move with him.
Then there's those times when they're backstage and JC is towelling himself off: Lance thinks to himself that he could do a much better job removing the sweat from JC's skin. He can visualise it completely, pushing JC back against the wall and running his tongue over all the places that are hot and beaded with sweat. Over all of him.
Tongue moving slowly along JC's collarbone and moving up over the long column of his neck until he reaches that impossibly full mouth. Licking the salt from his upper lip and then pulling back, watching JC's face: eyes closed, long thick lashes flickering as he moans and starts to beg for more. And that's one thing Lance would be happy to give him.
Then Lance can picture himself dropping to his knees, face pressed against JC's cock, JC's hands running through his hair as he pulls him in close. He removes his pants and tells him how good he smells. JC smells like sweat and heat and it's just all so… male.
But that would be wrong, the sort of thing Lance shouldn't be thinking about. The sort of thing he always thinks about no matter how hard he tries not to.
Instead Lance snaps himself out of those thoughts and mutters something about being a little off tonight, saying everything but what he really wants to say. And when JC notices him speak he just flashes him a smile that Lance can feel travel through his whole body and says something that Lance hears but doesn't really take in. When faced with a smile like that, Lance abandons all hope of paying attention.
He turns to walk away and when his back is to JC; he feels a soft touch at his wrist. Warm against his own hand and when he looks back over his shoulder there's another smile. No words but JC says so much more than he could in that short time with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.
He tries to pretend there's nothing there. That it's not what he always thinks about. That it doesn't matter when JC sits next to him, just that little bit too close and their bodies are touching. That it doesn't matter when JC bounces his leg up and down, in time to the rhythm in his head and that motion travels all the way through Lance's body as well. Rhythm that starts in JC and builds and builds and travels all the way through Lance.
Like they're one, connected.
The two of them sharing… something. He pretends there's nothing because if he let himself believe that anything existed, what would that mean? What would JC think? JC who sits there so blissfully unaware, the one person Lance can't quite seem to understand no matter how hard he tries.
It's much easier to pretend that there's nothing when more than likely the only thing there is the sort of thing that Lance doesn't want to imagine. Because that would be the only thing he couldn't handle.
JC reacting badly.
JC not wanting what Lance hopes beyond all hope that he does want.
This time, when JC presses his arm against Lance's body, it's warm and makes Lance's skin pimple up in anticipation. Like it unknowingly wants more, like his whole body knows something that his mind just can't quite process.
They're standing next to each other and as always JC's just that little bit too close, or not quite close enough. Lance wants more but even this much contact is making him react in ways he's not quite sure he can control.
And now he starts to think about it his mind is taken over by wondering exactly why it is that JC always seems to end up standing next to him. Is Lance reacting unconsciously? Or is it something else, somebody else feeling something?
He shakes himself out of those feelings, because if there's one thing he can't allow himself to believe, it's that this is anything other than a fantasy, that there's any chance of his feelings being reciprocated.
Less pain for all involved that way.
He almost wishes that JC wasn't so affectionate. That's one thing about him that Lance always admired, the fact that he's comfortable in his own body and so blasé about physical contact that it just seems so natural. But now? Well now, Lance feels like things would just be so much easier if JC weren't so physically open with people. With him.
But then what would the alternative be? Nothing? Lance can't imagine what it would be like, never feeling the warmth of JC against him again. It may be driving him crazy right now: the heat that he feels from those 'friendly' displays of behaviour, but that's nothing compared to what it would be like if they were taken away from him.
If JC was taken away from him.
Drowning is so much easier than being rescued.