Some Nights
by Shine

It didn't happen very often.

JC looked drowsily up at Joey as he slipped into the room, fatigue laying like a mask over his face. Right behind him was Justin, and Chris, sprawled out on the other bed, made a pleased sound and straightened up, making room for him. JC shifted under Lance, felt the bed dip as Joey joined them, reached for his hand and held it tight.

It didn't happen very often, because usually it didn't need to happen.

Joey murmured something and began to rub his palm, strong fingers stroking the muscles until his hand was limp and tingling, surrounded by warmth. JC inhaled and hummed quietly, and Lance chuckled and ducked his head to lay a liquid kiss in the hollow of his throat. Joey laughed too, and began to kiss his fingertips, one by one. When Joey let go of JC's hand Lance picked it up, and JC watched them kiss, tongues tangling lazily.

On the other bed, Chris was holding Justin close, running a gentle hand over his head, down his back, over his sides. Justin was soft-eyed and pliant under the gentle touches, mouth parted slightly where Chris was licking it with lazy care. There were no words, but Chris was eloquence with hands and mouth, Justin speaking with his body, the way his legs moved against Chris, trying to get closer.

Usually they were all fine, doing their own thing, part of the group but separate from it. They went to clubs, danced and drank until dawn; they slept alone in cool, expansive beds, or entertained girlfriends or dates or one-night-stands. Justin and Britney would fight and make up and fight and make up, sometimes all in one night. JC would write songs, Lance would do business. They all had their things, they all loved them.

But sometimes...sometimes the fans were a little too crazy, or the critics a little too cruel. Sometimes the fights with Britney grew too hard to take; sometimes the words dried up, came like acid in his mind, etched in steel and painful to imagine. Sometimes the girls wouldn't bite, and the bed was too cold, too empty. Sometimes the clubs were too loud and public and smoky and like sandpaper, flaying the spirit.

Sometimes the world was Mt. Everest, cold and high and rocky and lonely. Sometimes they just needed each other, needed to be close, to touch and be touched and be loved.

And so some nights there was this.

The kiss was growing stronger, and Joey slid a broad hand under Lance's tank top, moving the fabric up as he stroked to his shoulder. Lance arched into it, and JC slid out from underneath him, bent over to help Joey get rid of Lance's shirt and shorts. Lance groaned when JC's hands brushed his ass, twisting into the touch. JC smiled, and when the shorts were gone lay liquid kisses along the sleek rise of muscle, loving the way Lance rose to the caress.

Chris and Justin were twisted up in each other, now, Justin making small noises in his throat as Chris steadily worked his clothes off, tracing the shadowy lines of satin muscles with his tongue. Chris was smiling, careful bites punctuating silky kisses, and Justin was breathing hard and had his eyes closed, lines of tension gone.

JC watched them as he watched Joey and Lance, watched the way soft light glanced over the curves and planes of two bodies together. Emotions sleeted through his head, affection and amusement, love that made him ache inside for the ability to express it. Friends, brothers. Lovers. His world.

Lance's hand slid up his side, and he shivered into the touch, the soft cashmere of Lance's hair against his bare chest. Joey was down at Lance's hips, and the touch was making Lance tremble, hair brushing fine lines of sensation with every hitched breath. Justin moaned suddenly, sharp in the silence, and they all paused, looked over. Chris was licking a nipple with deliberate steady care, and Justin had his head back, panting, his skin honey and plush in the golden light.

Joey was naked now as well, and he and Lance were well into it. Lance was breathing hard, whimpering high under his breath, rocking into the slow movement of Joey's mouth on his cock, and when he touched JC it was wild, unthinking, increasingly unguided. JC closed his eyes, loving the sensation of Lance so drunk on the brandy-heat of Joey's mouth that he couldn't even react to JC bare and hot against him.

When Lance came it was quiet, understated--a choked sigh, a final poised arch, the convulsive clench of his fingers in JC's hip. Joey licked him calm again, like a cat, and Lance purred under his mouth, green eyes slitted and sated. JC leaned down to kiss him, slipping gentle tongue into his mouth, and Lance smiled into the kiss and captured the roving tongue with his teeth, making JC laugh.

He was hard, but the burn was slow and languid in his brain, sending sparks of sensation from his fingers to his toes, making him fizzle and glow. It felt absolutely wonderful. He wished he could be here forever, trapped in the unhurried pace, feeling the sweetness of touch, of blessed contact with another living soul.

Now it was his turn, and JC fell back against the bed as Joey and Lance moved over him, Joey hard and solid against his hip. Lance slipped away for a moment, came back with slow idle movements and lubricant and easy words in ragged-soft deep tones, and when he moved between JC's legs they parted easily.

When the first finger slid in, he arched, and his cry made Joey smile and kiss him hard, clean and sweating and hot against his side.

God, he loved this.

Justin was kneeling by Chris now, head down and moving hollow-cheeked to the sound of Chris panting harshly. One nail-bitten hand was on his head, sliding down the stubble to the nape of his neck, rubbing steadily, frantically, while Justin made ludicrous eyebrow-waggles and smirks and his hidden tongue danced wickedly over the cock he was sucking.

Chris was laughing weakly at Justin's antics, free hand clenched in the sheets, eyes bright and clear as they stared at the ceiling. Justin let him go when Chris was shuddering, on the edge, and slid up his body in a rush of power and skin and grace. Chris kissed him hungrily as Justin thrust against him, erections pressing together. Muscle bunched and jerked under the skin as they came together, rubbed against one another, and JC let his eyes fall half-closed, let the steady rhythm of their movements blend and meld with the rhythm of fingers inside him, friction and pressure and so good so right *there*...

And then Joey was inside, slow and nasty and hot and sweet and he couldn't see anymore, couldn't see Lance licking his chest and his mouth and his throat, couldn't see Chris as he swore steadily, voice catching when Justin keened under his breath, edgy voice crying out helplessly. The scent of sex was suddenly heavy in the air, and it filled his lungs, filled his brain, carried him away from everything in the world that hurt.

Nothing hurt now.

Joey shuddered and came, moaning continuously, and JC felt it in his bones, felt his body spasm in response. When he came, it was like purity, like hell, like everything that had ever gone right in his life. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and his body was music, they were all music, a perfect five-part harmony reaching a climax of sound together.

When he came back to himself Lance was sweating to his back, and Joey was dropping a washcloth onto the floor, eyes sleepy and relaxed. Tired, but that numbing fatigue was gone, JC noted blurrily, and when Joey slid into his arms he held on tight. Chris and Justin were already curled under the covers, dark head and light close to each other, sharing a pillow. Justin was snoring, and one of Chris's arms was wrapped around his neck, a lucky charm held close to his heart.

Sometimes he forgot that it was always this way.

Sleep called, and he rested his head on Joey's shoulder, felt Lance press close to his back. Breathing soft in his ear, sweat wet and salty against his mouth, like tears.

He slept.

Fin