The Rule

When Lance decided to start his own business, he had known he would run into problems from time to time. He hadn't thought this would be one of them. Looking at JC and Justin, the guys who worked as personal trainers at the small, private gym Lance ran, he wasn't sure why he hadn't anticipated it. But he hadn't, and now he was unprepared to deal with the situation.

Lance had made a rule at the beginning: no getting involved with the clients. He had had to rewrite the rule later to specify no sex with the clients, since Justin and JC didn't seem to feel that one necessarily implied the other. He should have known then that it was a losing proposition.

There just wasn't much Lance could do about it. They were both extremely sexy guys, as Lance was well aware, and they worked in a very physical profession. It was unavoidable, really, that they would get hit on by clients from time to time. And when the clients were attractive enough, and the right gender, both JC and Justin had been known to take them up on their offers. Lance had considered scheduling all the female clients with JC and all the guys with Justin, but that hadn't really been practical.

So for a while, Lance had lived in fear of some kind of sexual harassment suit if one of their flings went sour. Then, when it became clear that they were both very good at getting themselves out of tangled situations, and that most of their partners weren't interested in more than a casual thing anyway, Lance's feelings about the situation changed.

Now, Lance felt like a pimp.

He set up their appointments, collected their fees--for the training, he quickly reminded himself--and, occasionally, gave warnings about taking things too far when it looked like warnings were needed. In theory, his rule against sex with clients still stood. But the guys knew he'd given up hope of enforcing it, no matter how many times he reminded them.

He did manage to divert JC every now and then, ever since the day Lance had found him changing in the locker room after a session with a guy who had all but felt JC up by the treadmill. He had also had JC demonstrate everything he wanted him to do, so JC was tired and sweaty when Lance stepped up to him, planted one hand on the lockers by JC's head, leaned in, and kissed him.

JC looked surprised when Lance pulled away, but not very. Nothing really seemed to take him by surprise, ever. He also looked...hot. Lance swallowed. Very hot.

"That guy," Lance jerked his head towards the door. "He wanted you. He got you all worked up, didn't he?" JC nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. "I don't want you to have sex with him." And Lance had said it before, many times, but he hadn't said it in quite that tone, and his hand hadn't been sliding down the front of JC's pants. Maybe that was why it had never worked before.

It had worked that time, though. And it was a good thing Lance had remembered to lock the door when he'd come in, because Justin was banging impatiently before they were done, whining something about a shower. Lance had looked up from what he was doing just as JC groaned loudly, his head thudding back loudly against the lockers. The only sound after that was Justin's "Uh...guys?" just before he'd apparently decided to shower at home, instead.

So, now, Lance knew he had a way to keep JC from going after the clients, most of the time. Sometimes he wished he could handle Justin as easily, but he was pretty sure Justin wouldn't react as well as JC had to Lance's offer of himself as an alternative. Straight guys were funny that way, Lance had noticed.

His method wasn't foolproof with JC, either. There wasn't anything between them except friendship and occasional really good sex, so JC could still be tempted. Watching him now with their newest client, Lance was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to do anything about this one. The guy was an actor whose agent had set up the appointment, driven him over, and all but dragged him to the door. Clearly, he was pissed about being told he needed to lose weight, but after twenty minutes of JC discussing food plans and menu options, he had grinned and nodded agreeably when JC suggested they move on to the cardio machines.

They'd done some time on the bike, and now JC was talking him through a weights routine. "Come on, Joey," he encouraged him, as the guy looked ready to let go of the handles on the shoulder press machine and let the weights fall. "Just give me two more. You can do it."

"Fuck you," Joey swore at him, gritting his teeth, but he pushed up again. That, Lance reflected, was one of the reasons that scheduling training sessions according to gender hadn't worked out. Justin didn't take it well when clients swore at him, but JC didn't take anything personally. Given the things Joey had been saying to his agent on the way in, Lance had known that assigning Justin to him would be a mistake. Still, seeing the looks Joey had been giving JC before he'd started cursing at him instead, Lance was pretty sure that pairing him with JC was going to have its own consequences.

He thought about trying to catch JC in the locker room, but he didn't really think it would help. Since that first time, he'd come to know the difference between times when a client's interest had just gotten JC generally aroused, and times when JC was genuinely interested himself. When it was the latter, there wasn't much Lance could do except postpone the inevitable, and he was already pretty sure that JC liked Joey. There was something in his voice, something in the way his hand rested on Joey's back as he explained how to use the next machine. Lance sighed, just hoping that Joey's agent wouldn't find out. She sent them several new clients a year, and they couldn't afford to lose the business.

When Lance went home that night, he tossed his keys on the table by the door and then stood still for a minute in the hallway. He had planned to watch a little TV and then go to bed, but with images of JC and Joey in his head, he went upstairs and pulled out his favorite clubbing outfit instead. He got dressed quickly, running his hands through his hair instead of combing it so that it fell slightly askew. Sliding a few condoms in his back pocket, just in case, he headed out the door.

The place was crowded, more crowded than Lance remembered it being. He hadn't been here in a while, but he saw a few familiar faces. He made his way to the bar and ordered a drink, swallowed it quickly, and then got another. Leaning back against the counter, he looked out at the crowd as he sipped his second drink more slowly.

Gradually, he became aware that someone was watching him. Turning his head casually, he met the guy's eyes. He was sitting alone at a table on the other side of the room, and he didn't look away when Lance looked back at him. He was hot, so Lance inclined his head slightly in his direction before turning back away with another sip of his drink.

When he looked again, the guy was still watching him. He didn't seem inclined to leave his table to approach Lance, though, and Lance wasn't in the mood to wait around. Setting his drink on the bar, he started to weave his way through the crowd.

He got derailed, though, when some drunken idiot stumbled into him and made him lose his balance, almost tumbling to the floor. "Woah," the drunk guy said, laughing hard. "Sorry about that, man." He had ended up holding onto Lance, leaning on him really, and didn't seem to want to let go.

Still trying to disentangle himself, Lance glanced over just in time to see the man he'd been about to approach sliding out of his chair, another guy's hand on his shoulder. His heart sinking a little, he turned back to the guy draped over him. "What's your name?" he asked him.

He thought he said Mark, but the bar was loud and he couldn't be sure. It didn't really matter. Mark, or whatever his name was, blew Lance in the alley behind the club, and tried to get him to come home with him when they were done. Lance considered it, but remembering the intensity of the other man's gaze, sex with a guy who seemed likely to pass out before they were through just didn't seem as appealing. He patted Mark on the cheek, thanked him for the blow job, and got him a cab. Lance prided himself on being polite like that.

The next day was uneventful, if you didn't count the fact that JC showed up to work tired but happy, relaxed in a way that Lance recognized all too well. Justin gave him a hard time about it when he thought Lance couldn't hear, and JC just laughed and ignored him. Lance didn't say anything.

The day after that, Lance was lost in his financial planning spreadsheets, trying to decide if they could afford to buy several new machines that Justin wanted, when Joey came in for his second session. He heard the door open, but since JC was waiting for the appointment and had already gotten up, Lance didn't bother looking up from his computer. So he didn't realize that Joey hadn't come alone until he heard an unfamiliar voice say, "Look, Fatone, just because you've got to do this, I don't see why I should have to suffer with you."

"Yeah, and who was it who kept bringing pizza and beer over to my house at least three times a week for the last six years?" Joey retorted. "You know, this is at least partially your fault, Chris. And you're the one who's turning thirty this year. If I need this, you need it. And there's no way in hell I'm going to suffer through this alone." Lance looked up in time to catch the smile Joey gave JC, and wondered why he was complaining so much. He was getting laid out of it, after all. Figuring he'd call Justin over to work with Joey's friend, he turned to look at the other man.

Lance froze. He hadn't looked at Lance, yet, but Lance recognized him instantly. It was the guy from the club, the one whose stare had stayed with Lance long after he had gotten lost in the crowd. When he finally turned towards Lance, a slow smile--almost a smirk, really--spread across his face, and Lance knew he'd been recognized as well.

JC was already guiding Joey away from the front desk, one hand between his shoulder blades. The guy--Chris--leaned up against the counter, looking down at Lance. He would have to look up if Lance was standing, Lance realized suddenly; Chris was shorter than he had realized, that night. "Well, hi."

And suddenly, Lance was completely flustered. It was one thing when he was at a bar, out to see and be seen, and hopefully get laid or at least a good blow job before the night was over. Lance knew how to do that; he was pretty good at it. But that was a mood that he put on, a mindset he had to get into before he went out and did it. Because most of the time, Lance wasn't really a very smooth guy. And caught off guard, in his own gym no less, he didn't have a prayer.

"Um," he said. "Yeah."

Chris cocked an eyebrow at him, looking amused. Lance flushed. "Uh, Joey didn't tell us he'd be bringing a guest," he said quickly, "but our other trainer should be free in a few minutes." He glanced around quickly, seeing Justin nowhere in sight.

"My friend had to leave," Chris said, as if it was part of a conversation they had already started. "I would've waited for you to come over, but you seemed to have gotten lost." He grinned, and Lance felt like he was laughing at him. Which didn't explain the heat Lance felt as he met those dark eyes again.

He cleared his throat, torn between relief and disappointment, as Justin finally bounded up to the desk. He was chattering away before Lance could even make introductions, pulling Chris away from Lance and towards the machines. Chris glanced back at Lance as he left, but he and Justin seemed to hit it off pretty much right away. For what might have been the first time, Lance found himself extremely glad that Justin was straight.

He tried to get back to work, but he had a hard time focusing on the numbers. Like Joey, Chris was rather vocal about not wanting to work out. He didn't curse at Justin, but he grunted and moaned and sighed enough that Lance was completely distracted.

Joey and JC were finished with Joey's workout, and Joey said something about meeting Chris at a restaurant in the next block. JC said something about his lunch break, and then they were both gone. Justin rolled his eyes at Lance, like he hadn't done the same thing with a pretty little blonde thing the day before. Lance looked down, curling his fingers slightly on the keyboard, as a sudden realization hit him.

He slipped into the locker room a few minutes later, hoping to grab his wallet and be gone on his own lunch break before Chris and Justin finished. It seemed luck wasn't with him, though, as Chris stepped into the room just as Lance was closing his locker.

"So," Chris said casually. "Where were we?"

He was doing it again, Lance realized. The quiet stare, the look that said that he wanted something and was intent on getting it. Unconsciously, Lance licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

There was something he needed to say, but he lost track of it when Chris stepped closer, running his hand lightly from Lance's wrist to his shoulder. Lance caught himself getting ready to lick his lips again and stopped, but not before his tongue had pushed forward and parted his lips slightly. Chris focused on Lance's mouth, then, and Lance knew he was about to be kissed.

"Client," he blurted out suddenly, a tiny fragment of the thing he'd been trying to say. Chris stopped, confused. Lance took a deep breath, hoping oxygen promoted sanity. "You came to work out. You're a client, now. We have a rule."

Chris, thankfully, seemed to piece that jumble of words together. He laughed. "Um, Lance, you know JC and Joey are probably doing it right now, don't you?"

Lance nodded. "I made the rule. They don't follow it. But I'm always telling them they have to. If I..." he trailed off as Chris took another step towards him, leaving mere inches between them.

"Lance," he said, his voice smooth and tempting, "it's a stupid rule."

It wasn't; Lance was pretty sure of that. But the reasons why escaped him as Chris reached up and slid a hand around his neck, pulling him down until their lips met.

He pulled away after a moment, and Lance caught his breath. "Well?" Chris looked at him expectantly.

"It's a stupid rule," Lance agreed, one hand sliding under the hem of Chris's shirt as he kissed him again. The shirt was damp with sweat, and Lance's hand slid easily over the slickness of Chris's back. Chris turned slightly, pressing in so that Lance was trapped between the cold of the metal lockers, and the heat of Chris.

He wasn't thinking much about JC or Justin or rules at all after that.

It wasn't until later, when he was lying on the floor with his head in Chris's lap and Chris's hand idly stroking his hair, that he realized that no one had locked the door this time.

When JC got back from his lunch break, Justin was grinning widely. Lance was hiding behind the computer again, knowing his face was bright red and would probably stay that way for the rest of the afternoon. "What's up?" JC asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Lance had sex," Justin said cheerfully. Lance ducked his head, not wanting to meet JC's gaze. "With a client," Justin added gleefully.

He heard JC's suppressed giggle, and sighed. Reaching over to the desk, he slid his fingers over the piece of paper where Chris had written his phone number. Despite Justin, Lance smiled.

He looked up at them, just a bit sheepishly. "It was a stupid rule," he said.

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