Day Twenty-Nine
May. 29th, 2003 11:27 pm
The concentration on his face as he walks and signs at the same time. The way he's almost almost biting his lower lip, his admitted bad habit. The line of scruff along his jaw that I love so much. This picture is unglamorous and he looks like he barely had time to wake up much less grab a shower before having to run to whatever is next on the agenda. It's charmingly (instead of creepily) candid. I like that between shows and industry events, they're just as real and normal as anyone else, wearing mundane things like jeans and T-shirts and rolling out of bed rumpled. Except they probably have to sign a few autographs before making it back from their front yard with the newspaper.
The Wedding Song by Sandy Keene
"God, what's with you?" Justin looks over at Lance, and he's flushed, right, from the blowjob and the booze. And pissed. Justin doesn't want to deal with this, fuck, doesn't he have enough shit in his life. Now Lance gets all pissy. A song. Fuck. Justin shakes his head and moves as fast as he can, straddling Lance. "A song. You know what song you are to me?"
Lance doesn't push him off, so Justin's happy again. And he loves the way Lance's thighs tremble a little under him. Lance says, "I don't know, Justin, 'Oops I did it again'?"
There's a kind of dichotomy to Lance that becomes compromised when he does his Hollywood thing and drinks and parties and schmoozes with the best of them, and all that plausibly rendering him almost terminally incapable of honest emotion for a long minute. In a business where loyalty only extends to traded favors and love is more safely bought than accepting what's offered, it's understandable. And it's not like Justin himself couldn't use a lesson or two in sincerity sometimes. But it's the Sandys! So in the end, it's love.