The small house was hidden behind a mass of half eaten brush, the roof weather worn, and an odd shade of orange. From the tiny front yard, the veiw was simply amazing. The Atlantic Ocean provided a postcard picture scene. The real estate woman frowned as she lead her two clients over the heat stroked brown grass, down the broken cobblestone walkway, and to the front door. Slipping her master key into the lock box, she forced a smile upon her painted face, waving her free hand around in the sticky heat. "The owners are willing to come down on the price," she explained, tired of having this monstrocity on her hands. "It's a fixer upper, but you guys look more than capable of shining it right up." She kicked the door open with a grunt, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

The lovers walked hand in hand behind her, following her into the tiny house. Cobwebs hung from every corner and the screen door flopped sadly off it's hinges as they passed through. "I don't know," JC said, scrunching his nose up. "What's that smell?"

Lance forged ahead, a dangerously excited gleam in his eyes. "Jace, it's perfect!"

Both the realtor and JC stared open mouthed at the comment. "Perfect?" JC asked, folding his arms over his chest. "Lance, I think perfect is a bit strong. I mean, we're talking about a total remodel and I thought maybe a condo or something...."

"No," Lance said firmly, crossing the living room to look out the bay window. "Look. You can see the ocean clear as day. And at night you'll be able to hear the waves." His green eyes daydreamed romantically, causing JC to chuckle.

The realtor beamed. She liked this kid, the blonde with the big eyes and romantic heart. The fact she might actually unload the dump was a plus. "Feel free to look around," she cooed. "The bedrooms are down the hall and there is a full bathroom between them."

"Oh, we only need one bedroom," Lance gushed shyly, hurrying to JC's side.

JC rolled his eyes. "Let's take a look anyway," he urged, begging away from the realtors eagle eyes. He pulled Lance down the tattered carpeted hallway. "You sure about this? I mean it is a fuck of a lot of work and I was hoping to buy something in move in condition, ya know?"

Lance eyed him dreamily. "JC, it'll be fun. We can pick out all our own stuff and not have to hire a decorator." He entered the first bedroom which was a quarter of the size of his Mississippi bedroom, with a pathetic fan dangling from the yellow stained ceiling.

JC rubbed the back of his neck, swatting at a string of dust that hung in his eyes. "Well, if you like it," he conceeded. "I just hope you know how much work it's gonna be."

"I do," Lance replied with all the innocense of a child. "It'll be so worth it to have a hideaway with you, a place no one except me and you know about." He planted a kiss on JC's lips. "Come on, just imagine us christening the place." He slid his hand down the front of JC's jeans and squeezed him gently. "We can fuck in every inch of the place."

JC nodded breathlessly. Damn Lance and his abilities to switch gears like that, from little boy to fuck toy in seconds. It was one of the major reasons they were together. Lance was a sweet, rare combination of lust and poetry rolled up in a delicious package that JC loved unwrapping every night. "Fine, it's yours," he gasped, bracing his hands against the wall behind him as Lance's tounge darted into his mouth. Lance could kiss, another point in JC's book. Kisses that could erase a bad day, a rotten mood, or heighten a perfect day, kisses that tasted of summer and roses and tangy sweetness.

"So what do you think?" the realtor called from the front door.

Lance fell to his knees, tugging JC's zipper down. "We'll take it!" JC gasped, stifiling a moan as he was released. Lance gazed up at him with adoring eyes. "Damn," JC whispered, entwining his hands in thick strands of hair.

Moments later, JC came under a barage of intense emotions. Loving Lance was never easy, but they'd managed to find their way to one another in this mad sea of people that consumed the world's population, and for that he was eternally grateful. His heart throbbed against his ribcage as Lance stood, licking the bittersweet liquid from his lips. "I think I love you," he grinned, wiping the dust from his knees.

JC nodded, unable to speak. He zipped his jeans up quickly as the realtor's footsteps fell down the hall. She poked her head inside the room, holding back a grimace at the shoddy condition. "Shall we head back to my office?"

Lance cocked his head with a smile. "Yes," he confirmed, shoving his hands in his pockets to cover his own erection.

"Then let's go," she said, standing aside to let JC out. JC blushed, sure she knew just what had transpired in that room, against that hideous wallpaper and sorry excuse for hardwood floors. Lance lead the way, with his happy face on, and not a care in the world. That was just his way.

An hour later, Lance and JC were homeowners, registering the home under an assumed name for privacy. Lance dangled the keys in front of JC's eyes. "We did it, Jace," he exclaimed in a fit of pride. "What we talked about all tour, being together."

JC nodded as he drove away from the realtors office. He couldn't help but get wrapped up in Lance's infectious mood, driving through Ft. Lauderdale with the top down. He laid a hand on Lance's knee. "I'm glad you're happy," he said, his own mind whirling with trepidation. If this got out, in any way, things would be over, and they would go out in a tangled mess. He sighed dispite himself, glancing at the laughing figure next to him. JC let his spirits rise again. There was nothing he would not do for Lance to make him forever happy. Including being outed.

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