Pairing: Chris and JC
Words: monogram; castrate; boyhood; sex object


At first, it'd seemed like a good idea to Chris.

He didn't have a whole lot going for him besides his voice, and
there was no guarantees he'd keep his voice past puberty.  In fact,
much the opposite.  He might be left with something scratchy and
not worth singing with at all, but even if his voice was still
good, there was the unassailable fact that his pure, high sweet
voice would be gone.

Plus, he was nine at the time.  What'd he know from sex?

So, still in late boyhood, he'd agreed to the castration.  And
preserved his voice and got a sweet little deal out of it, what
with NSYNC and all.  And never regretted the trade one bit.  His
mother and sisters are taken care of -- Chris has everything he's
ever wanted.  Anything else is just extra.

Until now.

JC loves Chris.  He does.  Completely.  Utterly.  And it has
nothing to do with the fact that they're both sex objects.  It has
to do with complete adoration and mutual appreciation.  It's about
caring and knowing each other.  It's about feeling safe and happy
and joyous.

That said, JC is also a rather sexual being.  And Chris... is not.

JC tries not to care.

Chris jumps and lands in the middle of JC's stomach.  "Hey.  You
look deep in thought.  All about me, I hope?"  He settles himself
in JC's lap and wraps his arms around JC's neck.  "For Christmas,
I want a Grammy, another golf trophy and a shot at George Dubya. 
With a shotgun."

JC laughs and holds Chris's hips.  "Oh, yeah?  I suppose I should
send back that new Harley, huh?"

"Hmm.  I'll take the Harley, too."

JC kisses Chris.  "Greedy boy."

Chris kisses back, because it's rude not to.  "But I've been
*really* good."

"Not that good."  JC pets Chris lightly.  He can tell that Chris
isn't in the mood to make out at all.  Sometimes, the adult part
comes through.  And sometimes it doesn't.  It's hard to tell what
will trigger Chris.  It is not the same for him as it would be for
most guys.

"So.  I've been getting this vibe off you lately, Chasez."

"What's that, baby Chris?"

Chris sticks his tongue out at JC for the 'baby' comment.  "That
you want and desire the Fine Kirkpatrick Ass, that's what."

"Mmm," JC mumbles noncommittally.

"And I wanna know what's at stake here.  Are we talking about,
'ooh, that's a hot ass, I wanna tap it'?  Or are we talking about
specially monogrammed towels that say JCK and CKC?"

"I'm about the towels, actually."

"Oh."  Chris brightens for a moment.  Then his mouth twists. 
"Would these towels be needed to, say, mop any sudden spills that
might occur due to coincidental ass tappage?  Or are we talking
about a higher love?"

"Higher love," JC says.  He's said it before.  Not so clearly, but
he's said it.  Chris tends to ignore what he's not ready to hear.

Chris' grin is bright, broad and relieved.  "Good.  Me, too.  With
the towels and the Steve Winwood thing."

"Steve Winwood thing?"

Chris does a few bars, "Bring me a higher love, oh yeah, a higher
love..."

JC grins.  "Oh, okay, yeah."

Chris grins at him and puts his head down on JC's shoulder.  "Pet
me!" he demands imperiously.

JC does.  After a few minutes he says, "Not that I object to ass
tappage.  But I love you.  A lot.  And that's more important."

Chris freezes.  Cautiously, he asks, "So, um, you love me, but the
ass tappage is still an important factor?"

JC sighs.  "Not so much an important factor as something we're
gonna have to figure out.  And not necessarily ass tappage.  Just
sex.  What do you want to do, Chris?"

Chris stares at JC, stricken.  "You love me and want to have sex
with me?"

"I do.  But... Chris, I know you don't."  JC's voice is as soft as
his hand as it strokes Chris's face.  "We need to figure out what
to do about that.  I can't *not* do sex things.  Even if we decide
I should just do them with myself."

"But you want sex things," Chris says, still in the same stricken
voice.  "If you want sex things, you should get sex things."

"Yeah.  But I want you. I want to be with you so very much," JC
insists.  He won't let go of Chris.  His voice is firm, strong. 
"So we need to decide what I should do about the sex things."

"I need to talk to Lance," Chris says, and bolts from the room.

JC sighs and curls up.  If he fucks up with Chris, he's going to
kill himself.  He'd do anything for Chris.

****

Lance pushes the door closed on Chris.  "No, no, a thousand times
no.  I do not know Satan personally, I cannot help you make a deal
with the devil, *and* I'm a Baptist."

Chris is a persistent little fucker.  He's got his foot in the door
and he's leaning on the door.  Lucky for him, it opens in, so he's
got the leverage.  "But Lance!  Baptists can still make deals with
the devil!  We all know you did something to Lou!  Help me!  It's
a matter of life or JC."

Lance sighs and lets the door open.  "What are you talking about?"

Chris immediately comes inside.  "I need the help of an entity with
mysterious and miraculous powers and since it's for the purposes of
having sex, I'm pretty sure praying to God won't do me any good."

Lance throws up his hands and takes a seat.  "Okay, start at the
beginning and tell me all of it."

"I love JC.  JC loves me.  JC refuses to let our love be a mere
meeting of minds -- the Chasez requires sex to survive.  I love him
and want him to get sex.  From me."

Lance shakes his head.  "Dude, you're totally wrong.  He talked to
me about this.  He does *not* require sex the way you think he
does.  He's more than happy to jerk off forever.  He really, really
loves you."

Chris shakes his head stubbornly.  "He deserves sex.  Full-blown,
full-out sex.  Besides, it looks like fun."

Lance's eyes go distant.  "Oh, it's fun.  But it's not worth your
soul."

"How would you know?"

Lance looks at Chris.  In his eyes, the flames of hell sparkle. 
"You were right.  I did get Lou."

"Whoa.  I thought you said you were a Baptist, dude."

"I am.  Making a deal is not the same as worship."

"Good point.  So.  Since you've already taken the plunge, so to
speak, do you think maybe you could throw my little problem in as
well?  Like a package deal?"

Lance's lips twist bitterly.  "No.  New deal.  Your soul."

Now Chris is staring, fascinated, at Lance.  "I dunno.  I thought
I'd do anything for JC's happiness, but this whole misery and
torment thing you've got going on here kinda sucks.  You *are*
miserable, right?  Or was it payment on delivery and I'm actually
talking to Lance in demonic form?"

Lance smiles.  It's not a pretty thing.  "Overthrowing Lou took a
slightly bigger payment than usual.  I'm a soul broker.  I never
wanted to get yours."

"Doesn't answer my question."

"I don't know."

Chris whistles.  "That's pretty bad.  So, what about the whole,
renounce-your-life-of-evil thing and getting God to fix it for
you?"

"I'm Baptist, not Catholic."

Chris rolls his eyes.  "Yeah, because God only forgives Catholics. 
Don't give me that."

"The rules are very clear.  It has to do with which dogma you come
from.  In my dogma, once you're damned, you're damned."

"So switch dogmas."

"Can't.  It's like switching country clubs.  If you join one rich,
they forgive you when you get poor.  But you can't join poor."

"Can so," Chris says stubbornly.  "God forgives *all* sins."

"See?  That's your dogma."

"You idiot.  There's one God.  You can't let someone else set the
terms of the contract for you.  The terms aren't what your church
tells you -- and definitely not what the devil tells you.  They're
in the Bible.  Plus, what's with this soul broker thing?  Even if
-- and that's a big if -- this so-called contract for your soul is
valid, why keep working for the guy?  Why not stab him in the back
and work against him as long as you're still here?  Have we taught
you nothing?"

"I do, and our success is gone.  Some lawyer will push through
Lou's case, and NSYNC is over.  I'm going to enjoy myself while I'm
here.  Also, the broker thing?  I get other people to give their
souls.  Why d'you think I became a manager?"

"So we lose our success.  Big deal.  We're set for life.  We'll
live.  You're more important than that."

"We'll lose everything we gained by beating Lou, as well."

"Okay. that's harder to deal with.  I'm kinda attached to my
millions of screaming fans who want to lick my underwear and steal
my geraniums, and it'd really suck having to work eight hours a
day, five days a week, for a living, instead of all day every day. 
But I could deal with it."

"Could JC?  If he never got a job in music again.  Could he deal
with it?  How about Justin?  Joey never getting a job in theatre or
music.  Probably having Kelly move to Europe with Bri."

"We'll ask them.  I'm betting they care about you at least as much
as I do.  You know Joey'd give you the shirt off his back and then
beg you to take the pants as well.  And JC doesn't care about fame
or fortune or even a job making music as long as he can still do it
at all."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Lance warns.  "Besides, they'll never
believe you.  No one will, unless they're thinking of selling their
soul.  Through me."

"Wanna bet?  Or are you just scared?"

"I'm telling you the terms of the contract I signed."  Lance smiles
again.  "So.  Your soul for, what?  Working nuts?"

"Nope.  You're miserable.  I don't want that.  And you did it for
us.  We can give it all up for you."  Chris sets his jaw
stubbornly.

"I did it for me."  Lance raises an eyebrow.  "So, you're gonna go
make it work without your nuts?"

"Look, Bass, you can just shut up.  You selfishly gave up your soul
to make as rich and famous and didn't even ask us first.  I think,
under the circumstances, we have a right to rescind that decision."

"I did it to make *me* rich and famous, so I wouldn't have to go
back to Mississippi.  Anyway.  You and JC?  Gonna work it out
yourselves?  You know he's freaking out by now, right?"

"Not til I know you're okay."

"I'm fine.  I'm exactly the way I've been for years.  Go kiss JC. 
Go make love to him.  You don't need a dick for it.  And I'm sure
you'll like it just fine."

Chris sticks his tongue out at Lance and goes for the phone.  "JC? 
Yeah.  It's me.  Chris.  Yes.  Yes.  No, it's not your fault.  It's
definitely my fault-- never mind.  Emergency group meeting, Lance's
room.  And I love you.  Period.  So get everyone."

Lance sighs.  "Oh, Chris."

Chris sets the phone down.  "What?"

Lance stands and walks over, hugging Chris close.  "Thank you. 
It's too bad.  I'm sorry."  And he takes the memory from Chris.

JC knocks until Lance lets him in.  He goes to Chris immediately,
hugging him.  "What's the meeting about?"

"Um.  Something important?  Something about Lance.  I think."

"Huh?  Chris, we don't need a group meeting over that girl.  I
swear, I did *not* go to a tattoo parlor with her," Lance says
smoothly.

"No.  It wasn't a girl.  Definitely wasn't a girl.  Girls don't
have balls, and I know it had something to do with balls."  Chris
scratches his beard.

"Yours?" Lance suggests.  "And JC and sex?"

"But why would I come to you about that?"  Chris looks suspiciously
at Lance.  "And how do you know anyway?  I never told anyone."

"You were talking about it in the hall."  Which is true.  Chris had
been mumbling all sorts of things in the hall.

"Was not!" Chris says, but he probably was.  He does that.  Usually
no one listens though.

"So, before the others get here.  JC loves you, Chris.  Chris loves
you, JC.  Two functioning cocks are not needed for sex, and JC
knows that, Chris.  You don't need a cock to come.  Go forth,
experiment.  Love."

Chris looks at Lance.  There's *something*.  It's on the edges of
his mind, though, and he can't figure out what it is.  Something
important, and something to do with Lance.  "Are you happy?"

"Of course I am!  Two of my best friends are in love.  And I knew
before Justin and Joey.  Speaking of, you two should get out of
here, unless you wanna hear a whole bunch of jokes.  I'll hold down
the fort."

"Okay."  Chris nods grudgingly.  "But if you *are* unhappy, you do
know that all of us would do anything for you, right?"  Beside him,
JC's nodding his head.

"'Course I do," Lance says, his voice offended.  "And... ditto," he
adds more softly.

Chris nods then.  "Okay."  He gives Lance a one-armed hug.  "Love
you, man."  Then he turns to JC.

JC smiles.  "Bet I love you more."

"I'd put money on that," Chris says, and leans in to kiss him.

JC kisses back.

"Hey, hey, move the floor show," Lance insists.

Chris flips him off, but they do.

Lance closes the door and smiles.  Ah, young love.