"Dude." said Joey, "this theme is lame." He was dressed in tatty jeans, black T-shirt and a leather vest with leopard-skin collar, with a skull tattoo drawn inexpertly on his forearm and a 'scar' lined across his forehead. There was a toy saxophone on the back seat. He still didn't know what he was supposed to be, but his instructions had been clear. Nonetheless, he was not happy about this. Halloween was practically his favorite holiday, except for Christmas, and he should have been allowed to decide on his own costume, and there was nothing wrong with being Superman again if he wanted to, whatever Lance might say.
"Ya think?" Joey couldn't see Justin's costume, he was wearing a huge overcoat, but aside from an unexpected gleam along J's cheekbones, and maybe a little extra blond in the hair, there didn't seem to be much excitement about his costume, either.
They didn't bother with the bell, if Lance's party was in full swing there was no way anyone would hear it. Just dashed through the rain to the open side door.
Justin took off his overcoat, and smirked as Joey gaped at him. Justin was wearing gold boxers. And a lot of gold paint. And his hair *was* extra blond. And—wait—no way! "Man, are you wearing pantyhose?"
"It's a costume," Justin said, defensively.
The legs looked good, all shiny and smooth and shapely. Joey didn't know if you could get padded pantyhose, but if anyone could, he reasoned, Justin Timberlake, he of the chicken legs, definitely could.
Then all of a sudden his dormant musical theater geek reawakened, and he blurted, "Rocky!"
"That's me!" A blinding grin. Of course, Justin would have to be cast as the perfect guy, but what did that—oh! Yes!
He was Eddie.
What's more, that meant... Oh, yeah! Joey looked around the room with voyeuristic intention. Stockings... garters... everywhere. "Maybe it's not so lame," he said under his breath. "Whoa! Redhead at three o'clock."
The redhead had on a glittery gold top hat, a matching short jacket, and a shiny, tiny little black skirt. And cute little black heels, and oh, yeah, stockings with a seam right up the back leading to...
"Man, that ass!" Justin said reverently.
"Hey, I saw it first! Uh, her first!"
Justin grinned at him. "Fifty bucks?"
It was bad and wrong to wager on such things, and his mom would not approve, but then, Joey thought, she was never going to find out. "Fifty," he agreed.
He won the coin toss for precedence, and sauntered jauntily over to the redhead with a detour by the bar to pick up a beer and a margarita. Although... as he got closer, he thought there was maybe something familiar about this one. If he'd already slept with her, it might cause difficulties, particularly if he didn't remember her name. Still, no way was Justin going to win by default.
"Hey, sweetie," he crooned cheerfully into her ear.
"Hey yourself," came the reply, in a very familiar voice. "Is that for me?" Lance took the margarita from Joey's wavering grasp, and batted long, lustrous false eyelashes as he sucked pornographically on the straw.
"Holy fuck," said Joey.
"Man, is that the best you could do?" Lance eyed the toy sax with disapproval.
Joey hid it behind his back. "You might have told me this was Rocky Horror! I didn't figure it out until I saw what J was wearing!"
Lance's gaze roamed the room, and a sly grin spread across his face. It looked very, very strange, Lance's grin outlined in scarlet lipstick.
"We bet on you," Joey offered. "Which one of us would get to, you know. Didn't recognize you from, um. Behind." He gulped at his beer. Lance was almost as tall as he was, in those heels. "Guess I'm going to lose."
"Not necessarily," Lance murmured, and licked, cat-like, at the corner of Joey's startled mouth. "My libido hasn't been controlled." Then he sashayed off and was lost amidst a throng of underdressed women. Any of whom would be perfectly good company at the end of the evening. Really.
Joey needed another beer.
* * *
He kept a wary eye on Lance's imperious progress through the party, and managed to station himself close enough to enjoy the sight of Lance sneaking up to ambush Justin.
"Such a perfect specimen of manhood," Lance said, in honeyed, mocking tones.
Justin turned. "Hi, L—Lord Almighty!"
"Truly beautiful to behold. Love the pantyhose. I hear you and Joe got a bet going."
"Uh. Huh. Well." Unusual to see Justin groping for words. "Have you got breasts in there?"
Lance smirked, of course. "Apparently you're intending to find out."
"Well, we didn't realize it was you!"
A perfectly manicured hand trailed over Justin's naked chest. "I see you shiver with anticipation," Lance murmured, shot an evil, come-hither look from under his lashes, and was gone.
Justin would probably bluster, and blame the open door (it was still raining outside, but they needed the fresh air) for his tiny, tight nipples. Wasn't the cold, though. Joey knew.
* * *
Joey eyed Justin surreptitiously from the opposite end of the bar. Justin looked a little wide-eyed and witless. Just like Joey felt. There was a sort of dynamic tension in the air. Lance seemed to be everywhere, but in between being the perfect host he'd take thirty seconds to pinch Joey's ass or whisper something lewd into his ear. Justin's too, apparently.
What diabolical plan had seized Lance's crazed imagination?
It didn't bear thinking about. Unfortunately, Joey couldn't actually stop thinking about it, and he was glad of the Eddie costume. Somebody had found him a lanyard, so his toy saxophone was dangling handily in front of his zipper. Justin, in his slinky gold boxers, had better be thinking about something else.
While he was lost in trying-not-to-think, Justin had sidled up next to him. "We should leave!" he hissed in Joey's ear.
"We can't go anywhere until I get to a phone," Joey said, reasonably. He'd had too many beers already. Couldn't drive home.
"Then ask that butler guy to call us a cab?" Justin suggested. He sounded, well, not scared, maybe, but very, very nervous.
"Something wrong?" Joey felt a hand on his shoulder as Lance spoke behind them.
"We, um. Ought to be leaving," Justin said.
"Why don't you stay for the night," Lance said, and somehow, it wasn't exactly a question. "Lots of people are."
"We don't want to put you to any trouble," Joey said, weakly.
"I expect I can find you a bed, somewhere." Lance smiled. "I know you won't mind sharing."
Joey could put up no resistance, and Lance led them up the stairs.
* * *
Joey woke up in velvet darkness. The pillow was soft under his cheek, the bed just firm enough, he was naked, and there was a wet patch under his hip bone. Also, and this was particularly unusual, his ass was... sore? Stretched? Used?
Joey decided not to think about his ass until he... possibly ever. What he did need to know right now was, was he alone?
He groped cautiously with his left hand. Found the edge of the bed. Good. Groped with his right, and came upon—
Something that screamed.
"Fuck, Timberlake, do you have to make that noise?" Joey demanded, reminded of last night's beer consumption.
"You were feeling me up!"
"I was not!"
"You were so!"
"I was—oh, never mind. Uh." Now he was thinking about his ass again, and he had questions, but did he really want to ask Justin if, no, he really did not. Joey's mind was tantalizing him with sensual memories, sins of the flesh, he couldn't quite get the details straight, if that was the right word, but he was increasingly sure that last night had not been an erotic nightmare. "What time is it?"
"How should I know? You can see exactly as many clocks as I can."
"There's a light," he said, patting his way up the headboard until he found a switch.
In the pale glow, Justin stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Joey, please, let's get out of here before Lance finds us!"
"I think it's too late," said Joey. At the far edge of the bed was Lance, stretched out on his side and watching them consideringly.
"No, no," Justin said, "we get dressed, sneak out now, before anyone wakes up. Um." Obviously Justin was remembering he'd arrived at the party in underpants. Joey, grateful for Eddie's comparatively innocuous jeans, stifled a laugh at the thought of Justin putting the pantyhose back on. "I'll find something of Lance's, and—"
"Think it'll fit, J?" Lance, sans red wig, and sans everything else, too, though the black smudge outlining his eyes confirmed that yes, he had been wearing eye makeup (and stockings, Joey thought) last night.
"Lance!" Justin's voice vibrated with outrage. "You—you tricked me! I wouldn't have—I've never—never—" The outrage faded into petulance. "I was saving myself."
Lance smiled, which was just not fair. "I'm sure there's plenty of you left," he said, and slid his hand over Justin's quivering abs.
* * *
It's the pelvic thrust, Joey thought, that really drives you insane.