Incandescent
by northern

For Music Diamond. Part of the Maybe challenge. Thank you to betas pierson, sniss and Kim G. Sequel to The City of Angels, Revisited.

Life in high places isn't easy to get used to. The towers grow tall and grey-green out of the green-grey mud. The thin wooden bridges connecting them move when they're walked on, and sometimes just sway gently on their own. No one goes down to the ground level if it isn't absolutely necessary. The long, bright robes that they wear up here don't go very well with mud.

Lance thinks he's succeeded in making it look effortless when he sweeps through the Council chamber these mornings. His robes are heavy and touch the ground, but that's not what takes effort, even though he used to stumble on the hem when he first started wearing them. No, it's the weight of their stares on him that hits him in the back every time he walks into the chamber, making him strain to maintain his posture.

But the struggle is not what it was. Nor has it been for several days, now. It could be the fact that he finally managed to hold his own and win a debate with Councilman Kevin, earning a lifting of eyebrows and reassessing looks from all around. Or it could be because of what he did to celebrate. When he gets home now, there's always someone there. Someone slender and beautiful, still a little wary of meeting his gaze.

He's still a bit giddy that he actually did it. Went down to the lowest level, looking, and when he saw him, he couldn't believe how perfect. How beautiful. He'd been astonished that someone like that could exist, right there for him to see. And pay for.

He hadn't been able to resist. He had brought him home that very day, fearful that such a beautiful creature might be snatched up by someone else if he delayed. And now he is happy he didn't resist, because a lovely man called JC awaits him every day, just there to be whatever he wants, just for him.

Lance dresses JC in beautiful clothes, arranges him carefully on large pillows on his bed and admires the clean lines of him. He loves sinking down beside him and running his hands through his hair. JC will push his head carefully into Lance's hand, encouraging the caress. There is a lot of JC to explore. Dips and planes of soft skin, slender wrists and waist, all for him. Limbs trembling, but not shying away, never away, when he touches. Soft irregularities in breathing when he kisses, tastes the skin where it's thinnest.

Lance looks up and sees JC's eyes closed to the world, but his mouth slightly open. He looks so beautiful. Like a wild bird, or something that's trapped and cornered. A rapid heartbeat under his hand.

His fingers move to JC's mouth as if drawn there. He brushes his thumb across his lower lip. His other hand rests along JC's throat, and Lance can feel the blood rushing by so close to his fingertips, the quick pulse. JC's mouth is warm and soft. The weight of his thumb against his lower lip makes him think of other things. It makes him want to push inside that mouth, between those lips, and so he does, with trembling fingers and then his tongue. The warm taste of JC slams into Lance, making his cock almost hurt in sudden, violent pulses. He turns his head away, breathing deeply, to collect himself, and JC makes a sound of dissatisfaction and follows with his mouth as far as he can with Lance's weight pressing on his chest. It stretches his throat in a long, pale arch, and Lance stares, transfixed.

Collecting himself is something unimportant, and he nuzzles with the side of his face along JC's throat, turning to dig his tongue into the hollow under his ear, beneath his jaw bone. He stretches out half on top of JC, pressing one of his legs between JC's, and rocks slowly against his thigh while he mouths and bites softly along the side of JC's throat, wanting to fill his mouth with the taste of his skin. One of JC's hands comes up to rest hesitantly on his back, but he takes it and pushes it down to the pillows, to stay there.

JC's wrist is almost delicate in his grip, and Lance feels like if he squeezed just hard enough, he could break it. Not that he would want that. JC is a precious thing, to be treasured and taken care of. And there for him to enjoy, in whatever way he wants.

The thought makes him harder still, and he pulls back and undoes the belt of JC's voluminous robe, pushes the rich fabric away. JC smiles and sits up and takes it the rest of the way off, only pausing to gently pull at his wrist which Lance still holds. He reluctantly lets JC's warm hand go, so the clothing can come all the way off. Impatiently, he pulls his own robe over his head and lets it fall to the side, and when he looks again, JC is stretched out naked on his bed.

He still hasn't become used to looking at this uncovered beauty. It's like every part of JC speaks its own language to him. The curve of his forearm. The slight dip alongside his hipbone. His collarbone so close to the skin. And his cock, lying half-full against his long thigh. Lance had been almost reverent when he first unwrapped this gift, and that feeling hasn't faded much in these few days. He runs his fingers along JC's jaw line, watching JC watch him through slitted eyes like a cat observing his every move.

He continues the caress and runs his fingertips down over one of JC's nipples and watches his eyes close. He does it again, slowly working the nipple to hardness and sighs when JC's mouth opens a little. He likes to slowly coax JC into a fever; likes feeling him become desperate with want. This is only the beginning, and JC already sighs and arches his back a little. He is the perfect plaything, really. So responsive.

He bends down and nuzzles behind JC's ear, into his hair. The smell is herbal, and JC. He continues playing with the nipple while he breathes warm air on JC's throat to feel him twist his head to be as accommodating as possible. Then he licks a broad firm stripe up the tendon on his neck while taking the hard nipple between his fingers and pinching, not too hard. JC inhales sharply and shudders under him, pushing up against his hand and tongue. It makes him feel like he's achieved something, and the feeling is addictive.

He worries the nipple a little more and bites his way along JC's jaw to his mouth, enjoying the way he squirms under him. He brings his hand up to his mouth and licks his fingers briefly, then he starts in on the other nipple with soft brushings over it to make it hard. JC's breath is coming faster, and Lance licks along his half-open mouth, thoroughly wetting the soft skin. He brings his other hand up to rest behind JC's head and tongues his lips more firmly, gradually transforming the licking into kissing. The taste is still the same, and he can't help a slow moan escaping into the kiss while he settles himself against JC's thigh again. He is so very hard now, and it's difficult to not just lose himself in tasting JC's tongue and rocking against his thigh. But he wants more, wants to feel JC desperate with need.

He draws back and gives JC's lower lip a final nip, twisting the nipple gently between his fingers as he does. JC moans and gives that shudder again, his hands moving restlessly across the pillows. Lance takes hold of his wrists to still them while he sucks and licks a path down the arch of JC's throat. The effect is beautiful and exciting — the more he presses JC's hands down into the pillows, the more the rest of him arches up to meet his mouth. He takes one hard nipple into his mouth and tongues it, while JC strains to push up against him. Lance can feel JC's cock pushing against his stomach and manuevers himself out of its way. He doesn't want JC to come too soon. He carefully bites down on the nipple, and JC makes a sound that is part moan, part sob. Lance keeps his grip firm as JC twists his head back and forth, then releases the nipple and pushes hard licks against it, over and over. JC gives a strangled cry and falls back on the pillows, panting.

JC's pulse is resonating through his own hands and wrists, a fast, strong beat, and it occurs to him that maybe his grip is too hard. He can't really tell, but he eases up anyway and massages JC's wrists and hands with his thumbs in small circles while he drags his lips along JC's ribs, pausing now and then to lick long wet stripes. JC's cock lies against his stomach now, flushed and hard. The tip of it catches the light and Lance's mouth waters, but he doesn't want to bring JC closer now. He has to make do with sucking on JC's hipbone, and JC shifts his hips, doubtlessly wanting him to move his mouth somewhere else. Lance releases JC's wrists entirely, instead, and turns him over.

He sits back on his knees and looks at JC, who is bringing his hands up under himself. Even his back is beautiful. Almost painfully so, and Lance strokes his hand in a long caress up JC's spine. The skin under his fingers is damp and warm. His hand rests on the back of JC's neck, laying there, feeling taut muscle beneath the skin as JC slowly heaves himself up onto all fours. Lance strokes back down his back again. He taps the inside of JC's thighs for him to kneel with them wider apart, and he does. Lance strokes his hands up and down those long thighs to where they are joined. Ghosts his fingers along the cleft of his ass, and JC shivers and strains to pull his knees even further apart. Lance urges him to put his head down on his hands, pushes on the back of his neck until JC's head bows down and down. He's so beautiful like this. Clean line of his back. Knees wide apart. Open.

Lance looks to make sure that JC's hands are nowhere close to his cock. He mustn't come now. That would end it all too soon. He puts his hands on JC's hips and places a sweet, wet kiss where the skin begins to dip inward. He licks further down into the cleft and tastes more of JC. He needs to taste all of him. He uses his hands to hold JC more open and runs his tongue lightly once along the entire length of the crack, down to right behind his balls. JC whimpers with a high sound and his legs twitch in reflex, like they want to close, or maybe open more. Lance licks again, slowly this time, up to the darker ring of muscle, feeling it spasm as he rests his tongue against it. Warm and wrinkled, and JC breathes quick and shallow. Lance points his tongue and pushes it just inside, just enough to feel the resistance, again and again until JC is moaning and shaking and trying to push back onto his tongue.

He sits back on his knees, ignoring JC's vocal protest. There is oil in a pot on top of the little bedside table, and Lance coats his fingers thoroughly and strokes himself a few times, keeping his other hand on JC's back. JC has turned his head, watching him. His hair almost covers his eyes and he looks wild like that, the dark just glinting through tangled curls, his face flushed, one hand curled up next to his chin gripping the linen tightly. He's perfect.

Lance pushes his oil-slick fingers into JC, one at a time, just a dip inside and then away again. He likes teasing him like this, never giving him enough. Lance takes his cock in his hand and lines himself up to push against the hot slick opening. Not inside, but he slides past it slowly, over and over until it becomes a rhythm and just a little more. It's warm enough, slick enough, that he can do this for a long, delicious time. JC's back is heaving and he tilts his hips, trying to catch Lance's cock where he wants it. Lance teases him a few more times, then grips JC's hip with one hand and lets his other guide his cock, driving it in, all at once, hard.

JC keens and goes completely still, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, his whole body one tense arch and clenching around Lance's cock. Lance grunts and holds on tight, waiting it out, even though the pressure is between pain and pleasure intense enough to make him come. Finally, the grip around his cock becomes less rigid and JC's hands are moving over the sheets again, grabbing fists of fabric and pushing them, pulling them. Breathless, whiny noises as he begins to move, cut short every time he thrusts. Both hands on his hips now and JC squirms like he's fighting himself. Lance pulls him up on his knees and the new position is fleetingly awkward, but then JC settles back against his chest, the heat and solidness of him sudden and thrilling. Like this he can hear every breath JC takes, feel everything. He keeps one arm wrapped securely around JC's chest, while his other hand takes hold of his cock, finally stroking it after not having touched it at all for so long. He keeps the rhythm and his strokes firm, not teasing anymore, and JC gasps for air, letting his head fall back on Lance's shoulder as Lance starts thrusting in time with his strokes. In and in, and there might be begging words between those gasps and moans, but he can't make them out if there are. There is only the quickly building pleasure, and the wet heat over his hand is only a small distraction as he shoves in, in, deepest.

After he's pulled out and wiped the sheet between their bodies to get rid of the worst of the mess he lies down, still breathing hard. JC lies on his side, turned away from him, and makes a contented noise when Lance fits one leg between both of JC's, buries his head in his neck and breathes deeply. He loves the smell of him. Like something green and rich, come from far away. He rests a while, still revelling in the novelty of having someone to hold, someone who will stay for as long as he wishes.

Lance's sleepy brain wanders back to the image of JC sitting on the marble steps in the out-of-the-way corner of the Pillar Hall. He hadn't looked out of place, that wasn't it, but maybe... outlandish, compared to the others, with their painted eyes and smiling faces. Suddenly, it strikes him that JC might have stories to tell, if he would just ask.

"Where are you from, JC?" he asks. "What was it like there?" and JC is no longer sleepy and pliant in his arms. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, hands pressed together between his thighs.

Lance is slow to react, but then he sees the tension, the hunched shoulders, and slides over the bed, sitting beside him. He takes JC's face in his hand, turns it against him. JC's eyes don't follow. They look down and away.

"You didn't ask before," he says quietly, his voice a little scratchy.

Lance gives JC's chin a small shake. He knows that. What he doesn't know is why JC doesn't answer him. "Well, I'm asking now," he says, stating the obvious.

JC still won't meet his eyes.

"It was different from here," he says, and for a long while, that's all that he will say.

Lance looks at the slim curve of his back and waits, but nothing else comes. In the end, he grows tired of waiting.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now." He threads his fingers through JC's hair, pulling gently on it, liking the way it feels so alive. "Do you like it here?"

"Yes, Lance."