"Sucker"

Sucker

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Backstreet Boys/*NSYNC/O-Town

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and O-Town are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.

Continued from part fourteen...

The superhero museum had been amazing. They’d spent most of their time in the Superman room, of course, but the Stan Lee shrine had been pretty cool. On their way out, they stopped by the gift shop.

“You want a cape?” Joey asked Ashley.

Ashley grinned. “No, but I’ll buy you Superman boxers.”

Joey glanced at the rack. “I already have all of those.”

Ashley laughed, mostly because Joey was telling the truth. “We can’t leave empty-handed.”

“How about a life-sized blow-up doll?” Joey suggested. “Do you want Batgirl or Catwoman?”

Justin’s security guy, Ty, was waiting for them outside the front door. Justin was back in the bedroom, tying his shoes. “What am I forgetting?” Justin asked. “Key, you have the key, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, putting his hand in his pocket to double-check.

“Wallet, phone,” Justin said. He picked up his wallet and reached for his phone just as it lit up, vibrating. “Fucker,” Justin said softly, and closed his eyes. “Fucker!”

“Do you want me to hold it for you?” Dan asked. Not that it was his place to screen Justin’s calls, but he didn’t want Justin to carry AJ around with him all day.

“I can’t do this,” Justin said, opening his eyes, turning away from the phone. “I can’t - - I thought I could do this, I really thought I could. Just come up here, get away from him, some space to myself.” He looked haunted, tortured, his voice raw emotion, his movements aborted. “I can’t get away from him, there’s no escape, he’s with me all of the time, he’s inside me, I can’t get away from his voice, I keep hearing him inside my head, he hates me, he hates me, he wants me dead and he wants me gone and I love him so much I think I’m going to be in hell forever.”

Justin had been normal all morning. He’d been fine, he’d been holding normal conversations and joking and having a perfectly normal day. Now he was pale and scared and talking in a shaking voice, hugging himself tightly, looking like he was about to sink down to the plush carpet. Dan didn’t know how to comprehend that. Justin was this close to a complete breakdown? At any minute, he could snap like this? How did he function, this close to the edge?

“He hates me,” Justin said. “He thinks I’m worthless, I’m nobody, I’m nothing. I was never good enough.” The self-loathing in Justin’s voice was shocking. “I’ll never be good enough, I can’t be good enough, I’m nothing, I’m nothing, I’m nothing.”

“Justin.” Justin was breaking down, and Dan was freaking out. What the hell was this? How could anyone talk like this? How could Justin think like this? “Justin, listen to me.” Dan took hold of Justin’s upper arms, initiating eye contact. “Listen to me! You are somebody. To some people, you’re everything. You’re a great performer, you’re an amazing person, you’re a loyal friend, and you love yourself. I know you love yourself. How would your friends feel if they heard you talking like this? How would your mom feel?”

Justin was shaking his head, denying, confused. “They don’t understand. They don’t know me. He knows me, he sees me for what I really am.”

Dan wanted to beat AJ with a tire iron. “He doesn’t see shit! He doesn’t know you at all! He’s never fucking met you! You’re going to believe one person, one, over millions and millions of other people? Do you think that everyone on the planet is blind? You are fucking amazing. You, Justin, are fucking amazing. Say it,” Dan ordered, jerking Justin forward slightly to get his attention. “Say it. I’m fucking amazing. I’m fucking amazing.”

“I’m not!” Justin shouted with force, yanking himself free. “I’m nothing! I’m nothing! You’ll see, one day, you’ll all see.” Panting, backing away, Justin was like a cornered animal. “You’ll see.”

“I see,” Dan said. “I see it now, I see exactly who you are. You’re. Fucking. Amazing.” Had AJ alone done all of this damage? “I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what you say, either. I know what I know, and I trust my own judgment. You’re fucking amazing. I don’t care how much money you have, Justin, or how many CD’s you sell, or what you look like. You have more love, loyalty, talent, ambition, determination, spirit, humility, and drive than any other one person I’ve met. That’s what makes you somebody. That’s what makes you special. That’s what makes you important. He hasn’t taken that away from you, and he never will.”

Justin turned his back, hugging himself again, as though he wanted to curl in on himself until he disappeared.

Dan shook his head, frustrated, beginning to lose patience. “Look at yourself. Do you see yourself? Do you listen to yourself? You have everything that anyone could want. Look at this, look around! This penthouse, the jet that brought us here, your houses and cars, your lifestyle. Look at your life, your career! You have everything that you could want! One person isn’t in love with you the way you want him to be, and everything else means nothing? Let him go!” Justin curled further into himself, denying it, so Dan got louder. “Let him go! Let him go and find what you need. Justin, you have never settled for second best in any aspect of your life. Not what you wear or what you drive, not recording and not performing. You only have the best of everything. Why doesn't that apply to the person you’re with?”

Justin made an angry, choked sound. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Dan didn’t buy that for a second. “Why wouldn’t it? It does, it does work that way, you just have to make it work that way. That’s the way it should be. But you have to demand it for yourself, you have to make it happen. You have to make that decision and demand it. Then it’s up to AJ to live up to it or get the fuck out of the way.”

Justin’s shoulders shook. He was crying, but he had his back turned so that Dan couldn’t see. He still had some of his pride left. That told Dan that AJ’s mindfuck hadn't destroyed Justin beyond repair.

“We’re already running late,” Dan said. “You have to be at the studio. Everyone’s counting on you.” He watched Justin’s back. “I know you’re a professional. I know that you play through the pain. I don’t even have to tell you to suck it up and get out there, because you’re going to do it regardless. If you were nothing, could you do that? If you were nothing, you wouldn’t be that strong or that driven. You are that strong. You know it. You know what you’re capable of.”

“I don’t have to go,” Justin said. His voice was tight with the struggle. “I’m not performing today.”

“They’ve been publicizing it,” Dan said. “Your fans are out there, in the studio, on the street, waiting for you. Everyone’s counting on you. They’d have to scramble to cover for you.”

“Why don’t you go?” Justin snapped.

“Those fans are holding up signs for you,” Dan said. “Not for me.” He studied Justin. “Do you really want to prove him right? You really want to chicken out and give in and not go?”

“He is right,” Justin said.

“Only if you make him right.”

There was a long moment of silence.

Dan waited.

Justin rubbed his face with both hands. “Jesus.” He turned, facing Dan. “We’re going to be late. Can you get my phone for me?” He walked out of the room, head up, back straight.

Dan pocketed Justin’s phone and followed.

Chris was sitting on the floor in his bedroom, gazing at the face of Brian’s watch, feeling a tiny internal snap with every tick of the second hand. He’d licked the inside of the watch, and the bracelet, because they’d rested against Brian’s skin for hours, days, months.

When his cell phone rang where it was sitting on his bed, it jarred him from his reverie. He glared across the room at it, pissed off that it would dare to interrupt his contemplation. He set Brian’s watch back into the case and stood. “Kirkpatrick.”

“Go to Trevor’s house,” Kevin said. “When he pulled away from you this morning, you realized what you might lose, and you want to try. Be vague on the emotional commitment, but go ahead and get physical. No sex, not yet, but you can give him head. Or see if he’ll give you head.”

“Right now?” Chris asked, eyeing Brian’s silver bracelet. He’d tongued the links of it, remembering all of the times he’d licked all of the places on Brian’s body.

“Now,” Kevin said. “Wear something black, you look good in black. And fitted, stop hiding your body under baggy layers.”

Kevin had given him that bracelet and that watch. Kevin had fucked him. Kevin might fuck him again, might let him get closer to Brian. “You’re the best ever. How can I thank you? What can I do for you? What can I do for you, to get more back from you?”

“I’ll let you know,” Kevin said, but he almost sounded amused. “Have a good time with Trevor.” Kevin hung up on him.

Chris closed Brian’s jewelry back inside its box, then took it to the closet, and locked it inside the padlocked box inside the hidden shoebox. He wasn’t proud of himself for having Brian’s possessions; it didn’t seem like a very healthy kind of behavior. And he felt guilty about having something of Brian’s, without Brian’s permission. Brian wouldn’t like it. He had to give it back.

But he had so little of Brian, it was like he had nothing anymore. Nothing but memories. And kisses, Brian had started talking to him again and kissing him again and making him hurt in all of the right ways again, all of the wrong ways again.

Brian had this way of making Chris feel every single emotion possible to man, all in the course of five minutes. He threw in some new ones, too, for variety. Being with Brian meant, among other things, riding the emotional rollercoaster from hell, backwards, in the dark, with no restraints.

Brian gave him everything, and nothing, all at once. Brian gave him everything, and took it all away again, in the space between words.

Kevin, Chris had noticed, was a lot more consistent. Kevin wanted certain, specific things, and asked for them directly. There was no guesswork involved. Of course, since it was Kevin, after all, Chris was sure that Kevin wanted things not yet specified that might cost him dearly. But Chris was willing to deal with that, when the time came. Dealing with Brian had taught him to be prepared for major emotional trauma without notice. And until then, Kevin was being very clear about what he wanted, what he expected, and what he was willing to give in exchange.

It was like a whole new world. A world with clarity, a world with concretes. Brian, Brian was a wonderland of confusion, of unspoken expectations. Brian never said what he wanted. Oh, he said a lot of things, but half of the time, when he said what he wanted, and Chris did it, that didn’t get Chris anywhere, because suddenly Brian didn’t want that after all, or wanted something else, or wanted that but not the way Chris was presenting it to him. But if he said what he wanted, and Chris didn’t do it, things turned out even worse. So Chris obeyed Brian to the letter, and hoped that one day, by pure chance, he’d end up doing the right thing the right way at the right time. Although Brian changed the rules so often, completely on a whim, that Chris was pretty sure that no matter what he ever, ever did, it would never be the right thing the right way at the right time. Brian was going to make sure of that.

Kevin was much more reasonable. Do what Kevin wanted, and get a reward. It was like an experiment with lab rats and pellets. Chris could handle that. And Kevin was never vague about what he wanted, either. He’d even told Chris what to wear, what to say, almost how to feel. Or how to pretend to feel. And that made Chris’s life a hell of a lot easier, because he didn’t know how to feel anymore, about anything. Especially about Trevor.

Trevor was fun, sexy, sensitive, interested in Chris’s dick - - all great things. He danced well, he kissed well, he had dealt with Chris at length and still wanted more. Chris liked him a lot. Chris was falling for him a lot. But there was also this weird emotional distance involved, because Chris was numb to anything that wasn’t Brian. And, to complicate matters, Chris was supposed to be on a mission to fuck Trevor up.

So, all in all, being told how to act, what to do, what to wear, and how to feel made his life easier. It meant that he didn’t have to think, only follow a script. He could do that. It even helped him not to be fully engaged in what he was doing, so he wouldn’t become any more emotionally attached than he already was. Good thing.

Brian was the ultimate, Brian was everything, Brian was the light of the world. Chris was so in love with him it was like dying inside to breathe without him.

Trevor was fun, and interesting, and everything Chris would want to be with if he were capable of falling in love again. Chris couldn’t ruin him but also couldn’t save him.

Kevin was the new master of Chris’s domain. Kevin wasn’t Brian, would never come close to Brian, wasn’t even in the same hemisphere. But he didn’t seem to mind running Chris’s life for him, which was nice, since Chris had become completely inept at running it himself. Chris did Kevin’s bidding, and in return Kevin gave him sex and Brian, and everyone was happy.

Jacob was sitting beside Brian on the grass, talking to Mark and Kyler about getting together to hear their new stuff, when Mark looked at something behind Jacob, squinting. “I know that guy.”

“Never seen him,” Kyler said.

“No, I know him,” Mark said. “I’ve seen him somewhere.”

“I know everybody you know, and I’ve never seen him in my life,” Kyler said.

“Where the hell do I know him from?” Mark asked.

Somebody had to get Mark off of marijuana before it ate holes through his brain. Jacob looked over one shoulder to see if he could identify…Lance?

“I know! I’ve got it!” Mark said. “He’s one of the Backstreet Boys!”

At that, Brian looked startled and turned to see. Jacob watched warmth fill Brian’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Brian said to Jacob. “Excuse me, guys,” and Brian was up and moving.

“He’s in *NSYNC,” Jacob told Mark and Kyler, shifting positions so he could watch Brian and Lance.

“Justin Timberlake?” Kyler asked.

“No, that’s Britney’s ex-boyfriend,” Mark said. “This one’s what’s-his-name, the astronaut.”

“Britney’s dating an astronaut?!”

Jacob tuned Mark and Kyler out, watching Brian and Lance. They were talking quietly enough that he couldn’t hear their voices, but he could see the quick, amused smiles they were sharing. Brian put his hand out, touching Lance’s forearm, and that touch lingered, fingers curling warmly around Lance’s wrist. Jacob didn’t know what the hell Lance was doing there, but it was way too obvious that they were way too fucking close.

He didn’t like it.

He got up, walking over to where they were standing. “Hey,” he said to Lance. “Lunch is supposed to be on me,” he reminded Brian. “It’s getting pretty late. We should probably go.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, his hand dropping from Lance’s. “Lance came all the way over here to track me down, and he needs me to - - I’m going to have to miss lunch. Why don’t we meet up at the club?”

Jacob kept his gaze locked on Brian’s. Questions were filling his mind, suspicions, jealousies, doubts. He was used to saying what was on his mind, but he’d never talked to Brian about Lance. He didn’t know what to say, how to accuse. How close was Brian to Lance? How close was Brian to Jacob? Was Jacob overestimating some things? Underestimating others?

He didn’t want to surrender Brian to Lance. This was supposed to be their day together. Brian was supposed to choose him over all others. If Brian was jumping up to run off with Lance, what did that say?

“Could we have a second?” Brian asked Lance.

Lance glanced at Jacob. “Yeah,” he said, and stepped away.

Brian held Lance’s hand in public, and not his. But that made sense, because Lance was his sexual partner, and Jacob was his friend. A good friend, a close friend, but only a friend.

Why only a friend? Was Brian not sexually attracted to him? Why would Brian want Lance, that astro-poser, and not him? Maybe because Lance was experienced.

But Lance’s connection to Brian was superficial. Jacob’s connection to Brian was real, and lasting, and went a lot deeper than mouth-on-dick.

“I know we’re supposed to spend today together,” Brian said. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll meet you at the club, it’ll be my turn to host the sleepover, and then we’ll have all day tomorrow, if you’re not busy.”

Jacob wasn’t so insecure in their friendship that he had to spend every second of every day glued to Brian’s side. Brian had other commitments and other friends, and he was mature enough to understand that. “Go ahead,” he said. “Take care of your business. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” Brian said, eyes shining softly. “Have a good time with these guys.” Suddenly, Brian hugged him, pulling him in quickly for a brief embrace. The abrupt shock of body contact slammed through Jacob so intensely that his dick got hard. Hell, his nipples got hard. One second, he and Brian weren’t touching at all, and then Brian’s arms were wrapping around his shoulders, Brian’s chest hard against his, Brian’s cheek brushing his, the light scent of Brian filling his nose. On instinct, Jacob’s hands rose to Brian’s back, barely brushing cotton before Brian released him with an affection-bright smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Jacob watched Brian walk away with Lance. He walked back to his friends, his body burning with remembered contact.

The theater was nearly empty. Joey and Ashley sat in the back, applauding the wild explosions, cheering for the car chases, betting on how long it would take before the buxom love interest gave it up. (One hour, two minutes in.) If this was a date, it was a great one, because Ashley got to watch a violent movie and he got his own bucket of popcorn. Not only that, since Joey was bi and Joey knew Ashley was bi, Ashley could moan over how hot the male sidekick was, and Joey agreed with him.

Brian dropped into Lance’s sofa with a tired groan. “He’s killing me.” Brian scratched his scalp with a shudder. “I swear he makes my damned head itch. It’s his damned hair, it looks like it’s crawling with lice.”

“Does he glare at everyone like that, or does he hate me in particular?” Lance asked.

“Oh, he hates you,” Brian said. “And he’s jealous.”

“I hate him, but I have enough sense not to glare at him like that in public,” Lance said. God, Jacob pissed him off. Two seconds near the guy, and Lance wanted to start throttling. “I don’t know how you can stand to be around him all day.”

“I slept in his bed last night,” Brian said, dropping his hands. “With him. He’s sleeping over at my house tonight. I have to decide what I want to do.”

“Wait until he’s asleep, and then shave his head bald,” Lance said. “Getting rid of that hair has to be the first step.”

“Talk to me about something else,” Brian said. He was stroking the arm of the couch, lazily petting the fabric. “I’m sick of Jacob. Now that I finally have time alone with you again, I want to talk about you. What did you do today?”

There was such honest interest in Brian’s eyes, a desire to learn and connect, that Lance almost answered. And then he realized that “fucking Howie” might not be a good answer. “Not much. That emergency rescue call from the Port-a-Potty was one of the highlights.”

“I thought that I could spend all day with him, but I couldn’t take it,” Brian said. “He’s obnoxious, he’s pretentious, his laughter makes my skin crawl, every time I see those damned tattoos on his elbows I want to rip his arms off and beat him with them.”

Whoa. “He’s really getting to you,” Lance said, slightly alarmed.

“I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” Brian said, slouching down slightly and dragging a throw pillow into his lap, fingers idly caressing. “The worst part of it is, I barely get to see you. I had to call you from a Port-a-Potty to stage a dramatic rescue to get time with you. I’m trapped at his side twenty-four hours a day, and we’re not getting any time together. I’m in hell.” Brian’s gaze became pained and desperate and comically miserable. “You’d tell me if I had head lice, wouldn’t you?”

Lance laughed in amused sympathy. “You don’t have lice.” He ran his fingers through Brian’s hair, then scratched lightly.

Brian moaned in pleasure. “God, you’re the best.” Blue eyes closed. “I think I’ll just stay here with you. He can sit in that club all night, waiting for me, listening to that crap he thinks is music, and rot. I’d be happy if I never had to see him again.”

“The point of this isn’t to suffer through being friends with him, it’s to seduce and destroy,” Lance reminded Brian. “You’re getting there. If you give up now, you’ll have spent all of this time with him for nothing.”

“No way,” Brian said. “If I have to suffer, he has to suffer.”

“Good,” Lance said. Brian’s hair was silky-soft. “How do you want to make him suffer tonight?”

One of the rules at the Townhouse, along with “don’t tell Dan the secret to getting to level three of Knights of the Rage Crusade” and “don’t touch Ashley’s hair,” was that if anyone came home with fast food, he’d better have enough to share with at least one other person. Bringing home fast food and eating it alone in front of everyone else meant having fries shoved up the nose. Saying “I didn’t think anyone would be home” was not an excuse, because there were five of them. Someone was bound to be home.

So, when Trevor parked the car and got out, he was trying to find a way to carry food and three drinks without spilling, and still unlock the front door. He was an idiot, a hard-core idiot, because the girl at the window had asked him if he wanted a tray for the drinks, and he’d said no, because he’d thought, hey, there were enough cup holders in the car, no problem. Brilliant. Now he had to get from the car to the house without cup holders, and he wasn’t taking two trips, because only wimps took two trips.

He’d just had to get three drinks. He’d gotten a soda and a shake, and then he’d thought that if Ashley or Erik were home, they’d want the shake, but he’d ordered the shake for himself, so he’d better get two shakes. But Jacob and Dan would want the soda, so he got the soda, too. Except, hard-core idiot, they had soda at the house, right in the fridge.

Next time, he was ordering only for himself, and eating it in the car before he got home.

He made it inside the house and set everything on the kitchen table without dropping anything. Then he yelled up the stairs and got no answer, and checked Jacob’s room to find it empty. Great. All of this for nothing. On the other hand, more food for him. He was just heading back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

Whoever it was, Trevor wasn’t sharing his fries. He opened the door.

“Borrow a cup of sugar?” Chris asked.

He looked good. A little less jittery and tense, maybe. A little more relaxed. Black jeans, black short-sleeved button-down open over a white T-shirt, silver beads around his neck. Head down just slightly, eyes looking up, penetrating, and Chris had to know that was sexy.

“Come in,” Trevor said. “I can give you fries and a Big Mac.”

“What, no Quarter Pounders?” Chris asked, coming into the house.

Trevor grinned, closing the door. “You’ll have to beg for it.”

“Sugar first.” Chris’s hands were on his hips, pulling, and then Chris was kissing his mouth, tongue licking across his lower lip. It was a slow, intense, heated kiss, and when Chris let go, Trevor heard himself moan. “So, where’s this Big Mac?” Chris asked him.

“You can have the Quarter Pounder,” Trevor said. His head was still spinning. Oxygen deprivation, maybe, or Chris overload. “And all of the fries.”

JC could still remember the first time that Nick had kissed him. A slow, seductive brush of lips over his. He’d opened his eyes, gripped with a not-so-sudden need for more, more, more. Nick had smiled at him, a smirk just for him, and touched his cheek with long fingers. “I’ll see you later,” Nick had said, and it had sounded like a promise.

JC could still remember the first time that Nick had made him come. On the sofa, half on his back and half against the armrest, Nick on top of him with a hand between his legs, fingers fucking up into him with deadly precision. He was used to having more class than that, not used to coming from making out on the sofa, and he’d been trying to hold back, trying not to look desperate and inexperienced. But Nick’s too-talented fingers had felt better than anything he’d had in years, and Nick had been kissing him in ways he’d never known he’d always wanted to be kissed. And then Nick had said, “Let go, baby, just let go,” like Nick could feel the tension in his body, the suppression of his body’s natural desires. At those words, JC hadn’t been able to hold back anymore; he’d ground up against Nick’s thigh, moaning desperately, feeling every second of every surge Nick’s fingers induced. Almost immediately he was coming, shaking in Nick’s embrace, moaning with pleasure so intense it hurt.

JC could still remember the first time that Nick had made love to him. A hotel room in L.A., after an awards ceremony. They’d skipped the after-parties and gone straight back to JC’s hotel room, where JC had experienced the most erotic, passionate, exquisitely powerful night of his life.

JC could still remember the first time that he’d told Nick, “I love you.” It had been a few weeks after L.A., from the bus, on the way to Chicago. At the end of a phone call, blurted out without finesse, spoken from the very throb of his heart. Nick had said, warmly enough to be an acknowledgement, “I’ll see you in a few days.”

JC could still remember the first time that he’d heard “I love you” from Nick. It had been in Detroit, a few days after he’d said it to Nick. After dinner, after sex, tangled and sweaty in the hotel bed. JC had shifted to a more comfortable position against Nick’s body, spooning back into him. Nick’s hand had slid down his chest, arm wrapping securely around his waist. Nick had nuzzled the back of his neck and whispered, “I love you,” against his nape. It had been the most perfect, poignant moment in JC’s life.

JC could still remember the first time that Nick had made him cry. Could still remember the first time that “Can I fuck you?” had been at once the most beautiful and the most brutal phrase in the English language. Could still remember the first time that Nick had made him claw at his own flesh to get the pain out.

JC could still remember the day that Nick had become the most important person in his life. They’d known each other for years, as rivals and acquaintances, but he’d stopped giving a lot of thought to the Backstreet Boys a long time ago. Until one day, one bright afternoon when he’d been stepping off of a basketball court with Chris and Justin and Brian, and Nick had walked up to them. Nick had said hello, and they’d said hello, and then Nick had stepped in closer, shifting to get the sun out of his eyes, and looked right at JC, and said, “Can I talk to you?” Lance had been spending a lot of time with Howie, and it looked like something was about to happen there. Chris and Brian were together every second of every day, which had seemed a little odd at first, but everybody was used to it. It hadn’t been anything to worry about. JC had assumed that maybe Nick wanted to talk to him about Lance and Howie, maybe as Howie’s friend, maybe as someone concerned about the risk of publicity. JC had said okay, and everybody else had left, and then…

JC closed his eyes, remembering. Remembering everything.

Nick was the sum of JC’s world.

Losing Nick would be losing life.

He’d do whatever he had to do to get Nick back. Whatever it took.

Spending time with Brian was bringing everything together clearly in Lance’s mind.

This was what he wanted. This was what he’d used to have, or thought he’d had, with Howie. Someone open, someone who shared, someone who cared about him and was interested in him. Someone who asked and someone who gave. Someone with real, honest, raw emotion.

Brian was emotionally available and openly attracted to him, as opposed to Howie, who gave him no emotion whatsoever. Brian sought him out, as opposed to Howie, who simply accepted his presence whenever he showed up. Brian wanted to be with him and wanted to spend time with him and had a hundred emotions all right there on the surface, with a thousand more underneath. This was what he wanted.

Except Brian wasn’t Howie. Brian didn’t have those beautiful dark eyes, that pretty smile, those soft lips, that thick dark curly hair. Brian didn’t have Howie’s flawless creamy skin or Howie’s defined musculature or Howie’s laugh or Howie’s sense of humor or Howie’s sweet nature. Brian didn’t have Howie’s rich, seductive sexuality.

Howie had gorgeous eyes, gorgeous hair, a gorgeous body, a gorgeous smile, a gorgeous everything. Lance was so sexually attracted to Howie, and so emotionally invested in Howie, that he kept trying to pick up guys who reminded him of Howie. Anyone with those eyes, anyone with that ass, anyone with that laugh.

Brian was nothing like Howie. But that was appealing, in a way, because Howie was so fucking frustrating, it was impossible to connect with him. The sex, the sex was great, the sex was awesome, but sex wasn’t everything. It wasn’t enough, when Lance had used to have much, much more.

Brian wanted to give him more. Brian seemed willing to give him everything.

Howie was all surface gloss, highly polished veneer, with nothing underneath.

Brian was spilling over with emotion and energy and interest.

Lance didn’t want Brian. But he did want to be wanted. And Brian wanted him. And he wanted what Brian had to offer.

Dan had been on TRL before, but it hadn’t been quite like that. The crowd outside had been crazy, even by TRL standards. In another year or two, Justin was going to have to start traveling in a bullet-proof Popemobile.

Justin’s phone had been vibrating all afternoon, sometimes just twice an hour, sometimes ten times in three minutes. Dan checked the caller ID every time, in case it was someone other than AJ; and now he had AJ’s number memorized. He was tempted to answer when it rang, to tell AJ off once and for all. But it wasn’t his place to do that. Justin was his friend, so he was invested in Justin’s well-being, but AJ was out of his jurisdiction.

How had Justin gotten into this situation? How had Justin gotten to a point in his life where he felt that much self-loathing? It was incredible that someone as friendly and driven and experienced as Justin could be taught to hate himself that strongly.

AJ was sick. Anyone who’d do that to another human being was fucking twisted. There was a lot more to this than physical abuse. There was some serious psychological damage, emotional abuse, that Dan couldn’t believe could happen to someone he knew.

After TRL, in the back of the car, Justin said, “I was thinking, we should just go home.”

Dan frowned. “What about the spa, and the clubs, and shopping?”

“Tell me you really want to stay,” Justin said, facing him. “Last night I broke down fucking crying from a phone call, today I turned into a psychotic mental patient - - even I don’t know what I’m going to do next. I’m fucked up, and it’s something I have to deal with, but I’m not trying to put you through something this crazy.”

“You asked me to come with you for support,” Dan said. “You need a friend, and that’s why I’m here. I want to stay. It’s too soon to go back.” Justin had to avoid AJ until he was strong enough to face AJ and walk away. Dan didn’t want him to go back too soon and get sucked back in. “It’s great spending time with you. You’re going through a rough time, and it’s okay to go a little nuts. AJ did some bad shit to you. I want to help, if I can.”

Justin studied him, looking suspicious and a little surprised. “You really want to stay.”

“I really want to stay,” Dan said.

“You don’t have to baby-sit me,” Justin said. “I can take care of myself. If things get too bad, there are people I can go to. You don’t have to feel obligated to look after me.”

“I’m not trying to baby-sit you,” Dan said. “If you couldn’t take care of yourself, you wouldn’t have gotten this far in life.”

“Yeah.” Justin looked disgusted with himself. “If I had any common sense, I wouldn’t be dealing with assholes like AJ.”

“Then learn from this,” Dan said. “Nobody expects you to get it all right the first time. Just fuck up in new ways each time, not the same old way. Stop dealing with assholes like AJ, starting today.”

Justin’s gaze was direct. “Have you ever been in love?”

Dan hadn’t expected that question. “No,” he admitted. “Not real love. That’s why I don’t pretend to be an expert on it.”

“When you’re in love with somebody, you can’t stop dealing with him.” Justin looked away. “Even when he’s not with you physically, he’s still with you. He’s inside your head and inside your memories and all over your body. Once he becomes a part of your life, he’s a part of your life forever.”

“You don’t have to talk to him, ever again,” Dan said. “You don’t have to think about him. Do other things. Find someone else.”

“Find someone else?” Justin repeated, turning to him again. “Who? Where? Everyone I’ve ever been with, they use me, they hurt me, they cheat on me, they’re bad for me - - I’ve never found anyone who’s good for me all of the time. I’m just trying to find someone who’s good to me half of the time, and what goes on the other fifty percent of the relationship is just something I have to deal with.”

“It’s not!” Dan couldn’t believe that Justin would buy that crap. “That’s bullshit, that’s complete bullshit. Cheating on you, using you, hitting you - - how can you put up with that? Why do you expect it? They’re taking you for granted because you’re letting them. Don’t let them.” He heard how angry he sounded, but he couldn’t hold it back. “No one deserves that, and you’re too good for it. There are people out there who can love you, really love you, who will be good to you, who can even be good for you. People who will support you and appreciate you and not tear you down. People who might even lift you up.”

Justin laughed. “Lift me up? Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Dan said. “I’ve been with girls who’ve cared about me, supported me, looked out for me, and had fun with me. I’ve done the same for them. That’s what relationships are about.”

“That’s what friendships are about,” Justin said. “If I want support, I have friends for that. Relationships, that’s about sex and drama.”

“You keep getting into bad relationships,” Dan said. “You’re attaching yourself to people who are bad for you. There are good people out there, millions of them, searching for good relationships.”

“One,” Justin said. “Name one.”

“Me,” Dan said. “I’m a good person looking for another good person, to have a good relationship.”

“Oh, what, you’re volunteering?” Justin asked. His grin was teasing. “I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Well, you’re not,” Dan said. “No offense. I’m just saying, I’m looking for a good relationship, and I’m not going to settle for someone out of loneliness or desperation. You shouldn’t settle, either.”

“There’s no one out there,” Justin said. “Good luck trying to find someone.”

Dan wasn’t satisfied with that as an ending to their conversation. “I can’t believe you’re okay with that view of the world.”

Justin rubbed his hand over his hair, studying Dan as though trying to put together ideas in his mind. “It’s not the way I want the world to work,” he finally said. “I hate it. I’d like for things to be different.”

“I’m saying that things are different,” Dan said, trying to get through to Justin. “Things can be different. You just need a better, longer screening process.”

Justin smiled, shifting in the restraint of his seatbelt to face Dan more directly. “I should give my dates a questionnaire?”

“You should date people longer before committing to them,” Dan said. “You should break up with them whenever they do something like, I don’t know, hit you? Cheat on you? That’s one of the signals that they’re really not right for you.”

Justin laughed. “It sounds obvious when you put it like that.”

“It is obvious,” Dan said. “Hit you? Break up. Cheat on you? Break up.”

“What makes you break up with people?” Justin asked.

Dan shrugged, thinking back. “Lisa moved away, and the long-distance thing didn’t work. Gena thought I was too busy with the group and didn’t have enough time for her. Brandy got interested in somebody else, so she dumped me.”

“No matter how good you are, they’re never satisfied,” Justin said. “It’s never enough. There’s always something you’re not doing, something you’re not being. Or there’s someone out there who’s hotter, more fun, more interesting, more whatever.”

“If people will cheat on you, people will cheat on anybody,” Dan said. “If someone’s with you, and is still looking at other guys, there’s nothing the rest of us can do to stop it. Some people are just cheaters. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you can do to make them stay faithful, if they don’t want to be faithful.”

“If there’s nothing we can do about it, then we just have to accept that that’s the way people are,” Justin said.

“No, that’s the way some people are,” Dan said. “Just don’t hook up with those people.”

“You can’t tell who they are,” Justin said. “They don’t wear signs.”

“You have to find out who they are,” Dan said. “Get to know them before you commit to them. Sometimes they’ll tell you they’ve cheated before. And if you think they’re safe, and you do get into a relationship, and then they cheat, yeah, it sucks, it hurts, but you have to get rid of them, get over it, and move on. Not everyone will hurt you like that. You’ll find people who won’t, if you get out there and look.”

Justin was studying him. “You’ve never cheated.”

“No,” Dan said. “I’ve never cheated.”

Justin’s voice was direct. A challenge. “I have.”

Dan didn’t blink. He wasn’t surprised. “Why?”

“Because I could. Because she’d done it to me. Because they’ve all done it to me. Because I was on the road and girls were throwing it at me on the streets.”

“Did you get caught?”

“Sometimes.”

“How’d you feel about betraying someone you were supposed to care for?”

Justin snorted, looking away again. “Not all that bad.”

Dan tried to judge how true that statement was. “Did you ever cheat on AJ?”

“No.” Justin’s gaze grew distant. “When you really love someone, you don’t cheat. You don’t want to. You can’t. I didn’t even try. I could’ve been with someone else, if I’d wanted to, but I loved him too much. I didn’t want to betray that.”

“Have you been in love before?” Dan was still trying to determine the extent of AJ’s hold over Justin. If he’d been in love before, and this was just one more time, then maybe he’d get over this, like he’d gotten over it other times.

“No,” Justin said. “At the time, a few times, I thought I was. But that was nothing compared to this. This is much deeper. Much bigger. This is…” He shook his head, gazing out the window. “Loving him is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

They talked, and they ate, and they talked some more. Trevor took Chris up to his room, because even though no one was home, someone might come home, and Trevor didn’t want to be interrupted on the sofa. Not that anything was going to happen, sexually. Although that kiss at the door had suggested something... And Chris had initiated it, which had only made it hotter.

He’d just met Kevin Richardson for coffee, which was a huge, major thing, but he couldn’t talk about it. Not with Chris, anyway, which sucked. He wanted to talk to Dan, but Dan was in New York with Justin. But that was okay, Dan could go ahead and go to New York with Justin, because Trevor had Chris right here at home, in his bed.

Not for sex, only for conversation, but still: score.

They got horizontal, because they seemed to have their best talks when they were lying down and Chris was touching him. Trevor was on his back, feet by the headboard, and Chris was right beside him, pushing up his shirt, fingertips drawing lines on his stomach. If this was going to keep happening, he was going to have to get a better six-pack.

Chris’s fingers started creeping farther up his chest, under his shirt. Chris’s fingers grazed his nipple, and he stuttered for a second, startled. But he kept the flow of conversation going, because he knew Chris hadn’t meant anything by it. And then it happened again, slower. And then Chris’s hand slid across his chest, and Chris started rubbing his other nipple, pulling on it, twisting it a little, and damn that was making him hard. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Chris said. “Ignore me.”

God, that felt - - ah - - good. “I can’t ignore that,” Trevor said, his body tense.

“Okay,” Chris said. “Then pay attention.”

Suddenly, there was a lot to pay attention to, like Chris’s tongue in his mouth and Chris’s body climbing onto his. Trevor cupped Chris’s ass in his hands as Chris sank onto his body, kissing back wet and eager. He pulled Chris’s unbuttoned shirt off, rolling them both over, sitting up for a second to get rid of his own shirt before going back to Chris’s mouth, untucking Chris’s T-shirt, stroking the skin at Chris’s waist with both hands. Chris’s hands were hot on his back, Chris’s dick getting hard against his thigh, and Trevor kissed him harder, one hand pushing up under Chris’s shirt to thumb a nipple.

Chris made a pleasured, grunting sound into his mouth, kneading his ass with one hand.

Trevor was seriously getting off on this, but it was a little…different. Usually, Chris only let him get so far before pushing him away and radically changing the subject. Now, Chris was initiating things, and encouraging him, and showing no signs of telling him to stop.

If Trevor did stop, and asked Chris what was going on, that would mean no more making out for the next five minutes, possibly the next ten hours. And that would suck, because he was getting some seriously good action out of this one. But he didn’t know what the hell was going on, and that bothered him, because if Chris was doing this for some messed-up Kevin reason - - well, Trevor wasn’t above accepting pity sex, but he didn’t prefer it. He raised his head, slipping his hands out from under Chris’s shirt. “What are you doing?”

“If you don’t know, I’m doing it wrong,” Chris said. His mouth was kissed red, and his hands were still on Trevor’s ass. He shifted slightly, his thigh pressing briefly against Trevor’s erection, and Trevor couldn’t stifle that groan. Chris grinned. “Nope, must be doing it right.”

“Why are you doing it?” Trevor asked. “Why right now is this okay?”

“When you left this morning, I realized something obvious,” Chris said. His hands slid up Trevor’s back, slowly, and Trevor had to fist his hands in the sheets under Chris’s back to refrain from humping Chris’s thigh. “You can walk out any time you want to. I don’t want you to do that. I want you around. I want you with me. I want you,” Chris’s fingers stroked his spine, “in my bed. I’ve been concentrating on old things and not paying attention to what’s right in front of me. I want to try concentrating on you.”

Trevor was loving Chris’s concentration. Chris’s kisses were fast, intense, and Trevor rocked against him, feeling over his hips, wanting, moaning. When Chris rolled them over, Trevor groaned at the heat of Chris’s aggression, watching with dazed fascination as Chris stripped out of his T-shirt. His brain was still filing all of that information when Chris started licking his right nipple, which totally shorted out every thought he’d ever had. That was good, that was great, every muscle in his body was seizing up and - - ah, ah, ah! Chris’s knuckles were rubbing over his erection, the backs of Chris’s fingers pressing into his flesh, and he was going to come in his pants, and he hadn’t done that in years.

Fuck! Chris was nibbling on him, he wasn’t ready for that, sharp teeth on sensitive flesh, but it felt good as hell, Chris was hot as hell, Chris had so much more experience than he did that - - ah, ah, no, he couldn’t, he wasn’t-

“How much thought have you given to sucking my dick?” Chris asked, and kissed him, hand cupping between his legs, stroking, fondling, driving him out of his own skin. That question, he couldn’t believe Chris had said those words, this was all way too much. He’d thought about it, he’d thought about it a lot, and last time he’d thought about it his erection had been in his hand, but now it was in Chris’s hand, and that was a hell of a lot better. He sucked on Chris’s tongue, moaning, hips bucking against Chris’s hand, mind consumed with fantasies of Chris’s dick, body driven to shattering climax.

“You sure do know how to show a man a good time,” Chris said. Trevor shivered as Chris undid his fly for him, moaning weakly as Chris stroked him through his cum-stained boxer-briefs. His oversensitive flesh twitched at the attention, and Chris grinned, stretching out over him again. “You look good after you come.”

“You’re-” he lost higher functions at the slow drag of the bulge of Chris’s dick over his groin “-still hard.”

Chris kissed him deeply until all of the air was gone from his lungs. “What do you want to do about that?”

Trevor wanted to fuck him, but that would require Trevor’s dick to be hard. Or he could fuck Trevor. Chris had specifically mentioned getting head, though, and the idea was doing seriously dangerous things to the sex-related areas of Trevor’s brain.

He stayed with Chris’s kiss, rolling left until he was on top again, reaching for Chris’s fly. God, Chris was hard in there. Chris started sucking harder on Trevor’s kiss, fingers pushing into Trevor’s hair. Trevor got a hand down his pants, feeling him up for a second, and Chris started moaning, naked feet rubbing against Trevor’s legs. Trevor actually had his hand on another guy’s dick, and the awesome, shocking weight of that made him tug down Chris’s underwear so he could see it. He lifted his head, taking Chris’s dick in one hand, lowering himself down Chris’s body to get closer to it. It was hard, thick, satisfyingly solid in his hand, leaking precum from the head, and Trevor fisted it experimentally, reassured by the similarities, fascinated by the differences, aroused by all of it. Chris groaned, dragging him back up, kissing him, kissing him harder, hands tightening in his hair, heel digging into the back of his thigh, and Trevor was falling into the rhythm of jacking Chris’s dick and kissing Chris’s mouth, the spiral of it escalating, when Chris pushed his hand away desperately, moaning sudden curses against his kiss.

Trevor let go, curling his arm around Chris’s waist while taking over Chris’s mouth again. They rolled onto their sides, wrapping around each other more tightly. Trevor filled his hands with the naked curves of Chris’s ass, and Chris pushed Trevor’s underwear down, stroking his naked thighs. There was hair on Chris’s thigh, and more muscle than most girls had, and he couldn’t stop putting his hands all over Chris. “I’ll,” wow, he’d never said this before, “suck your dick, if you want me to.”

Chris moaned, rolling onto his back. Trevor stroked Chris’s jaw with his tongue, shoving his hand down between their bodies to grasp Chris’s hard, leaking cock. He had this steady, low-grade pulsebeat of “I want to fuck Chris” all of the time, in bed and out of it, but at the moment it was fiercely intense, overriding his very heartbeat. Driven to mate with Chris in some way, any way, Trevor slid down Chris’s body, the hand around Chris’s erection guiding Chris’s dickhead to his mouth.

When JC’s house phone rang, he grabbed for it, snatching it up and - - oh. Disappointed, JC said, “This is JC.”

“Are you all right?” Howie asked.

“I’m…no,” he admitted. “Have you talked to Nick?”

“Not today,” Howie said. “JC, I told you, give him time. He’ll calm down.”

“Yeah,” JC said, not believing it for a second.

“I’m calling about Erik,” Howie said. “We should find something to do with him tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m going to be at the compound tomorrow,” JC said. “It’ll be all day.”

“Oh,” Howie said. “Well, maybe I should take him out, myself. Would that look bad?”

“No, go ahead,” JC said. If Howie wanted to spend time with Erik, he was welcome to him. “I’ll catch up with you two tomorrow night.”

“I’d like to give him a show,” Howie said. “Are you all right with that? I was thinking, if we want to convince him to let me fuck him, if I make love to you, we could show him what he’s missing.”

Letting Howie fuck him would be better than letting Erik fuck him. And Howie was right; if they did it right, it would catch Erik’s attention. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great,” Howie said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Bye,” JC said. He hung up, sitting back. He remembered the first time that Nick had called him…

“It’ll be okay,” Lance said, walking Brian to the door.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Brian said. “I’m about to go to a club full of people who don’t bathe and smell like pot, to listen to Jacob sing the praises of people who don’t understand the concept of melody, and then I’m going to invite him back to my house to sleep in my bed.”

“As soon as he leaves, you can burn the sheets,” Lance suggested.

“This all seemed like a great idea at one point,” Brian said. “I had great plans for how to destroy Jacob, before I actually had to deal with him. Now I just want to run screaming in the other direction.”

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Lance said. “Call me when you get rid of him tomorrow.”

“Wish me luck,” Brian said.

Lance brushed a soft, chaste kiss over his mouth. “Good luck.”

Brian smiled at him, eyes suddenly bright.

Lance hadn’t made anyone look like that in a while. It felt good. It was warming, and flattering.

Brian kissed him, a slow, clinging press of lips to lips. “Good-bye,” Brian said, fingers trailing over his hand, and then Brian left.

It was bizarre, that a simple kiss should mean more than a blowjob. But Lance felt like the past few seconds were more intimate and more significant than the times he’d swallowed Brian’s cum. Maybe it was because he hadn’t known Brian then. He knew Brian now, understood him a lot better. He liked Brian now. A lot more than he’d anticipated.

Brian was never going to be Howie, but maybe-

No. No, that was ridiculous. They were only teaming up to get to Jacob. He couldn’t do that to Chris, anyway.

Brian wasn’t even his type.

But Brian was so open, so available…

And that kiss…

It couldn’t hurt to try. They were going to have to get closer to take care of Jacob, anyway. Chris understood that; Chris was having sex with Kevin. Howie probably wouldn’t even care. What was the worst that could happen? Things wouldn’t work out, and they’d part ways. But as long as they were working together, he might as well take a chance.

This was AJ’s favorite part.

Onscreen, Joey was pounding into Ashley from behind. Ashley was making a hot little “uh uh uh” noise and saying a lot of “harder, give it to me, fuck me.” He really seemed to mean it, too; Ashley loved getting fucked, and it showed.

But AJ wasn’t here for Ashley. Ashley was Nick’s type, Kevin’s type. AJ’s eyes were on Joey. And here it was, right here. Joey straightened up more, eyes closing. AJ could almost see him leave the moment and go somewhere else. His hands tightened visibly on Ashley’s hips, and he started fucking Ashley harder, harder, roughly, slamming his dick in there. Hell, yeah. AJ felt his own body tense in preparation for each thrust. Joey’s hands slid up Ashley’s ribcage, up his chest, finding his nipples. AJ knew Joey wasn’t fucking Ashley anymore; Joey was fucking him, pretending it was him, and AJ liked that. No matter who was in Joey’s bed or on Joey’s dick, if it wasn’t AJ, it wasn’t enough.

Joey was fucking with his full strength now, and the sound of his groans of pleasure was different - - fuller, richer, like this was the ultimate, this was the best. One hand was down jerking Ashley’s dick now, and AJ knew the grip, could almost feel it himself, just the way he liked it, just the way he’d taught Joey to do it. Ashley moaned loudly, and Joey planted his hand between Ashley’s shoulder blades, pushing Ashley down, from hands and knees to knees and elbows, head down, moans more muffled. Without the reality of Ashley’s voice in his ears, Joey went right back into his fantasy, fucking, groaning, stroking Ashley’s hips, squeezing Ashley’s ass, gripping Ashley’s thighs.

Suddenly, growling, Joey yanked Ashley’s hips back, spreading his thighs even wider, and fucking rode that bitch. AJ wanted to cheer for him. Hell, yeah, that was it right there, that was the way, that was the shit. Joey fucked him, fucked him hard, and Ashley’s moans were getting loud again but Joey’s were louder, rougher, and AJ knew that sound. Joey was close, Joey was coming, and there, that was it, orgasm hit.

It was the only time where Joey came inside of Ashley, and not on him.

Slowly, sensuously, eyes closed, body relaxing muscle by muscle, Joey stroked Ashley’s back, Ashley’s sides, Ashley’s hips. Enjoying the feel of heated flesh, a masculine body. It was the way Joey wanted to touch AJ, and it felt so good Ashley shuddered onscreen, moving into Joey’s hands. Joey leaned forward, covering Ashley’s back, nuzzling his nape, kissing his shoulder, stroking, stroking, making love to Ashley in reality, AJ in his mind. Joey made a sound, a soft groan of pleasure, and opened his eyes.

Joey froze. It was a second, a heartbeat, so quick Ashley never noticed it, but Joey froze, and briefly, briefly, his hands lifted, like he was repulsed, like he’d never wanted to be touching Ashley at all.

He recovered quickly, went back into it, but it was different now, noticeably so. There was nothing behind it, no real feeling, and when Joey turned Ashley over and kissed him, there was no true passion on Joey’s part.

AJ smiled. So that was the way Joey fucked him when he wasn’t there. Interesting.

Erik walked into the house, dropping his keys, kicking off his sneakers. “Trevor?” Trevor’s car was outside, and so was Chris’s, but it didn’t look like they were downstairs anywhere. He went upstairs, going to his room to-

He frowned. What… Oh. He grinned, wanting to laugh. The noises coming from Trevor’s room were - - Erik put his hand over his mouth, stifling laughter. Hell, Trevor had better stop complaining that everybody else was getting some. Erik leaned closer to the door, curious. Trevor was doing something to Chris that Chris seemed to like. Trevor had stopped making noise, though, so, ew. Oh, gross! If Trevor was giving Chris head, Erik did not want to know about it. Shuddering with disgust, Erik went back downstairs.

Well, they’d be busy for a while, and no one else was home, so… Maybe Erik could finally get the PS2 to himself for once. Food first, though. He hoped Trevor and Chris wouldn’t come downstairs naked or anything. Trevor knew there were other people living there, though; he’d probably have the sense not to come downstairs for kitchen sex.

Gross.

Erik opened the refrigerator, waiting for something inside to interest him. Yeah, so he was having sex with JC and Howie, but, hell, they were a hell of a lot hotter than Trevor or Chris. Besides, what was he supposed to do, ask JC not to suck his dick? Erik snorted.

And fucking JC, damn. He could do that every day and never get tired of it. JC moved on his dick like the air was having sex with JC’s skin. He wanted to fuck JC forever.

And, yeah. Okay. It wasn’t like he wanted everybody to know he was sucking Howie’s dick. But it was like a personal challenge now. A challenge to his manhood or something. Like he must be fucking shitty in bed if he couldn’t get somebody to moan for him. And he wasn’t shitty in bed, he was fucking great in bed, he had JC on his dick, so he had to be able to make Howie beg for it. And he would, he’d figure out how, he’d make it happen. Howie liked it, Howie wanted it, so he had to be doing it right.

The phone rang. Erik closed the refrigerator and picked up the phone. “Townhouse, Erik-Michael speaking.”

“Erik-Michael.” Howie’s voice was so warm, so pleased, that it made Erik blush. “How’s your day been?”

“Good,” Erik said. He’d done jack shit all day, but he didn’t have to tell Howie that. “It’s been good. How about yours?”

“I’ve been thinking about you.” Howie said things like that a lot, but they always sounded true. It was crazy. Howie went through the day thinking about him. Howie thought about him. Howie talked to JC about him. Howie wanted him. Erik had had girlfriends he’d never thought about unless they were in the room with him, and even then, his mind had wandered.

“Yeah?” he asked. He’d never said this to a guy before, but there weren’t any witnesses, so, uh, “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he said, rushing it a little but getting it out.

“I’d like to see you tomorrow,” Howie said. His voice, it was like he was licking Erik’s ear. “JC’s going to be busy, but I thought you and I could spend some time together.”

What? JC and Howie were a package deal. He’d never been alone with Howie. He’d get Howie all to himself? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Why don’t I come over around ten?” Howie asked. “Maybe we can go shopping.”

He didn’t want to go shopping, he wanted to go tongue-sucking. “That’d be great.” He’d have to set his alarm or something. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Erik-Michael.”

God. “Bye.” Erik hung up, rubbing his dick through his jeans. Damn. A day with Howie. When he was alone with JC, things happened, things like in the studio that one time, things like JC jacking him off in Howie’s office. Alone with Howie, god knew what would happen. And damn, was he looking forward to it.

AJ raised his eyebrows at the action onscreen. “I’ve never seen anyone give head like that.” It was almost painfully funny.

“Joey hasn’t taught him anything,” Nick said, slouching, bored. AJ was into watching Joey fuck, and Nick had to admit that Joey was pretty good. Joey’d picked up some tricks from AJ, at least; Nick recognized some of them. But Joey was a better student than teacher; Ashley hadn’t learned anything from him. Nick was going to have to take care of that.

The doorbell rang. “There’s Kevin,” AJ said, rising with his usual predatory grace. “Pause it if it gets to the cumshot,” he said, and walked out of the room. “I hope you brought something to eat,” he said, opening the door.

“Just for you,” Kevin said, handing him a bag. “How’s it going?”

“You’d be amazed at how many times you can stick it to Ashley before he begs for mercy,” AJ said. “That boy can go all night. He has an Energizer ass.”

“I’m sure his mother’s very proud,” Kevin said, stepping inside and closing the door.

“Come on back,” AJ said, leading the way. “How’s Trevor?”

“In awe of me,” Kevin said. He took one look at the TV screen and grimaced. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I was stuck in bed with it,” Nick said. Kevin sat beside him, AJ dropping onto the recliner. “I thought you liked pretty boys like Ashley.”

“Yeah,” AJ said, keeping his voice casual, his eyes on Kevin. “How is Justin?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin said, his expression hardening. “I don’t care. All of my attention is on Chris and Trevor. I spent all morning running after them. I just hope Chris isn’t fucking up again.”

“It’s Chris,” Nick said. “Of course he’s fucking up.”

Kevin was too controlled to let his real feelings show. AJ watched Joey come on Ashley’s face. “I’d like to see Joey tonight.”

“How can you watch this and think, ‘I’d like to get me some of that?’” Nick asked. “You can’t call him, anyway. He’s with Ashley.”

“Call him for me,” AJ said. “Tell him to come over here.”

“If I call him and tell him that, he’ll ditch Ashley and come running over here, and that’ll fuck up my shit,” Nick said. “I’m not fucking up my own shit so you can get some.”

Ashley cried out in agonized pleasure as Nick thrust into him. “Just call him,” AJ said. “He can work it into his schedule.”

“He sounds like he’s being flayed,” Kevin said, watching Nick fuck Ashley.

“You should fuck him sometime,” Nick said. “He’s a natural lay. Once I teach him a few things, he’ll be pretty good. Right up your alley.”

Kevin shook his head. “I’d have to gag him.”

“Wait, he’s about to start begging,” AJ said.

“Really,” Kevin said slowly, slightly interested now.

“You’re such a perv,” Nick said.

AJ snorted. “Pot, kettle.”

“I’m not a pervert,” Nick said.

“Who owns the most extensive dildo collection in North America?” AJ asked.

“That’s for JC,” Nick said. “That’s nothing compared to the shit Kevin has.”

“Kevin likes to keep himself entertained,” AJ said with a wicked grin.

“Kevin likes to keep Justin chained up in his closet,” Nick said.

“He wasn’t chained,” Kevin said, clearly tired of having to explain himself. “He was handcuffed.”

“He was naked and gagged with his hands cuffed behind his back, and you left him in there for hours,” AJ said. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done it. He probably loved it.”

“It was two hours and forty-three minutes,” Kevin said. “Linda came over, and I wasn’t going to let her find Justin in my house. I put him in the closet and told him to be quiet.”

“And then you fucked her,” Nick said.

“I’m not going to let Justin interfere with my personal life,” Kevin said. “I do what I want to do. He never mattered, and he never will.”

“And Chris was the one whose mind snapped?” AJ asked. “I don’t know how Justin makes it through the day without a straitjacket.”

“You should be on medication,” Nick told Kevin.

“Brian should be on medication,” AJ said. “He’s one sick puppy. He knows no limits.” AJ fucking loved him for it. Brian, Kevin, Nick, Howie - - they were some twisted motherfuckers, hot and sick and bad, and AJ was so proud of them he couldn’t have loved them more. Nick burned down the house JC bought him, and JC bought Nick a Jaguar to apologize for suspecting him. Howie seduced Lance, broke his heart, dumped him, and then got him to come out to his family. They still weren’t speaking to him, and maybe never would, since they’d gotten that videotape of Lance with that guy Howie had picked up for him. The list of unspeakable things that Kevin had done to Justin was so long it staggered the mind, but it started with Kevin putting Justin in that closet to hide him during Linda’s sudden visit. Of course it hadn’t been sudden at all - - Kevin had called her the day before, telling her when to come over - - but Justin didn’t know that. Kevin had fucked her, with Justin right there in the closet, unable to see but definitely able to hear. When she’d gone, damn, things had gotten really interesting. And Brian, the things Brian had done to Chris…

“What about you?” Kevin asked AJ. “How far are you willing to go?”

“All the way,” AJ said. “I’m taking this one down.” The other guys were good, but he was better. He knew he was. This time, he’d prove it.

“Yeah, you wish,” Nick said. “You can try. I know what I’m up against. You know what I’m capable of.” He smirked. “I let JC off easy because he was the best thing I’d ever had on my dick. I don’t feel like playing nice this time.”

“I’m playing dirty,” AJ said. “This is a rough one. It’s time to get cutthroat. I don’t care who has to lose as long as I get to win. I have no problem shedding blood.” He hadn’t pushed hard enough last time; he’d underestimated the other guys. That had been his fault, but he’d learned his lesson.

“How much blood are you shedding with Justin and Dan in New York?” Nick asked.

AJ eyed Nick. “Are you challenging me?”

“I don’t see you getting much done,” Nick said.

“I don’t see you getting anything done,” AJ snapped, sitting up straighter. The other guys had had it easier last time. Of course it had been easy for Nick to seduce JC; JC was fucking gay. Joey was so straight, he didn’t notice guys checking him out, but he could spot a D-cup from miles away.

“I fucked Ashley last night,” Nick said. “Who’d you fuck last night, your hand?”

“It’s not about sex,” AJ said. “It’s about psychological control. While you’re fucking Joey and Ashley, what are you controlling besides your dick?”

Nick sat forward, glaring at AJ. “Ashley is exactly where I want him. Where’s Dan? In another state?”

“That reminds me,” AJ said. “I have somewhere to be.”

They’d spent all day together, and Ashley was having a great time. Being with Joey was like being with one of the guys. Easy, fun, no pressure, just guys hanging out. And now they were coming back to Joey’s house for dinner.

Ashley followed Joey into the house, then through the house. Instead of going to the kitchen, they went back to the, oh.

Ashley stepped outside, staring. “Wow,” he said, amazed. This wasn’t for him. This couldn’t be for him. “Wow,” he said again, turning to Joey. “Did you know there’s a fire hazard behind your house?”

Joey laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Oh, Joey, it’s beautiful.’”

“Seriously, was this here unattended since… When did you do this, anyway?” Ashley asked. “You haven’t been home since yesterday afternoon.”

“I hired someone to take care of it,” Joey said. “They were here setting it up and watching it until I called from the movies while you were in the bathroom, to tell them we were coming.”

The evening was cool; the sunset was gorgeous. Candles floated in the pool, a million small flames. Nearby, a blanket was spread over the grass, a large hamper beside it. Ashley smiled, hooking his fingers in Joey’s back belt loop, looking into Joey’s eyes. “Oh, Joey, it’s beautiful,” he said, and batted his lashes. He was teasing, but it was beautiful, and he really was touched. No one had done anything like this for him before. Joey had thought about this, planned for it, cared enough about him to put forth some effort. It meant a lot.

Joey kissed him, licking briefly into his mouth. “It’s not half as pretty as you are,” Joey murmured, kissing him again.

Jacob said hi to Erik and went back to his room, opening his closet. He’d been halfway to the club before he’d decided he wanted to change clothes. He didn’t know what was wrong with him - - he didn’t have to dress up for the club, it wasn’t that kind of place. But what he was wearing suddenly looked…inadequate.

Erik was lounging against his doorframe. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jacob said. He was being stupid. He’d just go, dressed in what he was already wearing. No, he’d been in it all day, he should probably change anyway. And he should fix his-

Whoa. Jacob was almost dizzy with shock. He’d just decided to fix his hair? Something was seriously wrong. Something was really going on with him. Something unnatural.

“You okay?” Erik asked.

“Is that Chris’s car outside?”

“Uh, yeah,” Erik said. “He’s upstairs with Trevor.”

Jacob couldn’t get away from these fucking people in his own house. Chris was upstairs. Lance was with Brian. Dan was in New York with Justin. Joey was fucking Ashley; if he hadn’t been before, he was by now. And Erik was doing god knew what with JC. They were everywhere, they were taking over, they were fucking his friends and fucking up his life.

No more. He was taking his life back. He was taking Brian back. “Find me something to wear,” he said, and went to fix his hair.

When he got home, Nick checked his messages. He’d deleted the messages JC had left on his cell without listening to them, and he did the same with the ones JC had left on his home phone. He didn’t need to hear what JC had to say.

He’d only been home for nine minutes when the doorbell rang. It was JC; he wasn’t surprised. JC wasn’t the type to break and enter, but staking out the house was definitely JC’s style. He could remember one afternoon when he and Brian had counted JC driving past fifty-seven times before they’d gotten bored and gone out. JC had actually followed their car for a minute, until he’d gotten out at a stop sign and told JC to fuck off.

“I have to talk to you,” JC said.

Nick filled the doorway with his body, not granting entrance to his home. “You’ve already made your choice. You want Howie.”

“I don’t want him,” JC said. “I-”

“I asked you not to come here,” Nick said. “I told you we can’t see each other anymore. And now you’re right here, you want to come in - - you don’t respect me at all, do you? You don’t care about anything I’ve said or anything I want. Everything’s all about you, what you want. You want this, you want that, you want Howie - - go ahead! Have Howie! You’re so selfish, JC, you’re so fucking self-centered - - do you give a fuck about what I want? Do you even listen when I talk to you?”

JC looked like he was in physical pain. “Nick-”

“I asked you not to give Estrada head, I told you I didn’t want you to do that, and you did it! You’ve been doing it, I know you’ve been doing it, everybody knows you’ve been doing it! How do you think that makes me look?! I thought you respected me, and you’re out there sucking on his dick every fucking day! Did anything that happened between us ever matter? Was anything that happened between us ever special to you? Do you even fucking listen when I talk to you?!”

JC was in agony. “Nick-”

“You said Howie’s better than me - - I don’t even care if that’s true or not, it’s just the fact that you said it. That means you’re trying to hurt me, JC, and if you’re trying to hurt me on purpose, what the fuck is that? What the hell does that mean? This is all bullshit, this is you fucking with me and playing little games and jerking me around, and I’m not sticking around for it. If you want to fuck with somebody, go find somebody else. If you want me, you’d better fucking learn to act like it.” Nick slammed the door in JC’s face.

The doorbell rang.

Nick glared at the closed door. Playing to win meant not giving in. He wasn’t going to forgive JC unless JC proved how sorry he was and how wrong he’d been. JC knew him well enough to know how to pacify him. And ringing his doorbell was not the way.

Silence.

Better.

Things were winding down again, and Trevor kissed Chris slower, slower, slower. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, I really am this good in bed,” Chris said. “You’re not just imagining it.”

Trevor grinned. “Why did you tattoo your initials beside your dick? Were you labeling it?”

Chris closed his eyes. “I, right now, am mortified. Young man,” he said, his eyes popping open and then narrowing with suspicion, “when were you ever close enough to my dick to see that?”

Trevor laughed. “I’m just wondering, how many guys were you in bed with at once, that you forgot which dick was yours, and had to label it?”

“I try not to get into bed with more than seven,” Chris said. “It becomes a fire hazard. No, really, what happened was, I’m so proud of my dick, I decided to initial it. It’s my greatest work.”

“It’s a great dick,” Trevor agreed. “You should be proud. Maybe I’ll sign mine, too.”

“I can tell you, there’s no greater thrill than having sharp instruments of torture right next to your penis,” Chris said. “But you’re a brave young man, you should go all the way and get the tattoo right there, right on it. And don’t just stick to initials, there’s plenty of room, go ahead and put Trevor right on it.”

Trevor grinned. “What are you talking about? I could write Trevor Penick on that bad boy and have room left over.” Whoa, hey, nice, Chris’s hand was on his dick, checking the length.

Chris smiled at him. “I think you should go for it. Trevor Lee Scott Penick. There’s room.” Chris gave him a friendly little squeeze and let go.

Trevor kissed him. “Why didn’t you put Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick on yours?”

Chris snorted. “I know it would fit, and you know it would fit, but hey, I don’t like to brag. I don’t want to shame the other guys.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Trevor kissed Chris again, and a little more, and then a little more. Chris’s arms came around his shoulders, and Chris made a quiet, aroused sound that hummed up into Trevor’s brain. Mmm, this was nice, this was, yeah, good…

Knock! Knock! “Hey, Trevor, did-”

“Go away!” Trevor shouted. Erik’s footsteps retreated. “Sorry,” he said to Chris.

Chris looked amused. “He might have wanted something important.”

“It was Erik,” Trevor said. If it had been Dan, okay, but Erik only wanted something important about five percent of the time, and even then, there were other guys in the house he could go to.

Chris’s thumb rubbed the arch over his eye. “You have nice eyebrows.”

Trevor raised the eyebrows in question. They weren’t ugly, but he’d never thought they were all that noteworthy, either. They seemed kind of boring, to him. He-

Okay, this was where all things led back to Kevin. Kevin had noteworthy eyebrows. Kevin had noteworthy everything, as far as Trevor could tell, but the eyebrows were definitely one of the first things he noticed.

But, as far as eyebrows went, “I like yours, too,” he told Chris. “They’re one of your best features.” It was a weird thing to say, but it was also oddly true.

“Whatever do you mean?” Chris asked, doing that thing where he raised the outside corners into skeptical arches. “One of my best features?” he asked, lowering his brows into a demonic scowl.

“You look disturbingly evil,” Trevor said.

“Yes, you are in bed with Satan,” Chris said. “Do you think I’m sexy, baby? Do you?”

Trevor laughed, because he really, really did.

Howie was on the phone with Kevin when his cell phone rang again. He glanced at the caller ID and said, “Hold on, one second.” He pushed the talk button and held the phone to his ear.

Silence.

“Lance,” he said softly.

Silence.

“Lance,” he said gently. “This is your fifth call in less than two hours. What do you want?”

Silence.

Howie hung up. “Sorry about that,” he said to Kevin. “Lance is losing it.”

“Because of you?” Kevin asked. “Or because of Brian?”

It was a good question. Brian was an incredible friend, but a dangerous opponent. Some of Lance’s unusual behavior was probably influenced by Brian. But some of it, Howie knew, was because of him. Lance didn’t just want him; Lance was in love with him. Lance needed him. Craved him. Lance was so close to obsession, all it would take was the tiniest bit of encouragement.

But Howie refused to feed Lance’s obsession. And it was driving Lance crazy.

Driving Lance away?

Driving Lance to Brian?

Maybe. Temporarily. But Howie knew Lance better than Brian did. Howie knew Lance’s heart. In any contest for Lance’s devotion, Howie held all the cards, held all of them, every last one.

He’d let Brian play, because it was always fun to see Brian enjoying himself. And he wanted to see how far Brian intended to take it. But, in the end, Lance would be his.

If he decided that was what he wanted.

Erik was having an out-of-body experience. Jacob looked really, really good. He’d twisted his hair in record time, the dreads in the front at least, and pulled it all back into a ponytail. Diamond studs glittered in his earlobes - - okay, so they were fake, and they were Ashley’s, and Jacob hated them, but they looked great. Jacob had only agreed to give in on the earrings if Erik gave up on the boots. Erik didn’t know why Jacob refused to wear boots - - what, he liked looking short? But Jacob said he was going out with Brian, not Shaq, so it didn’t matter. Erik had gotten him into leather pants, though - - Jacob had refused, and Erik had said, “You’re a rock star, aren’t you?” and Jacob had said, “I don’t even wear leather onstage!” and Erik had said, “Do you want to show off your ass or not?!” and Jacob had given him this horrified look and been all, “No, god, no!”

Erik didn’t want to step all into Jacob’s personal business or anything, because Jacob never took that well. He’d finally decided to explain his thinking, and let Jacob decide. “If you’re trying to get a girl’s interest, don’t do the grunge thing, that’s old, man, that’s tired. Rock star in leather, though, that never gets old, especially with the girls you’re going to meet at this place. You know they’re all about it. And if you’re trying to get a guy’s interest, guys are interested in what they’re sticking their dicks into, so either wear lipstick or put on these pants, because all of your jeans sag too much.”

It had been a little too graphic, probably, because Jacob had gotten a brand-new horrified look on his face, and Erik himself had started to remember Howie’s fingers tracing down the divide of his ass, which just made him shiver and try to change the subject. “Besides, you’re hanging out with Brian tonight, and he’s best friends with AJ, and when have you seen AJ onstage not in leather?”

“I don’t watch them perform,” Jacob had said.

Yeah, right.

Jacob’s shirt was a dark blue, short-sleeved button-down. The top and bottom buttons were undone, letting the shirt fall open. Jacob had great abs, so why not show them off? Okay, so he looked nothing like what he usually looked like, but maybe that was a good thing. Jacob’s normal look was “mostly clean but sort of homeless.” It was about time for a break from that.

Erik had made him try some of Dan’s cologne, too, just because it was fun to make Jacob do things he didn’t want to do.

Once Jacob was irritated with Erik and with himself, Erik’s work there was done. Erik walked him to the front door to make sure he didn’t sneak a change of clothes out to the car. Jacob started to have second thoughts, and Erik was convincing him to get his ass out of the house before he stood Brian up, when Trevor and Chris came downstairs.

Trevor had that “I just got laid!” smile on, and that odd, triumphant swagger going. Trevor always acted like he’d never had sex before, or like he’d invented it, or something. He was barefoot, and he was so post-sex self-satisfied it took him a minute to notice Jacob. When he did, he stopped walking and just stared. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I’m getting the fuck out of these clothes,” Jacob said, turning decisively.

“No,” Erik insisted, pushing him back towards the door. “You’re going, you’re going now, you’re going just like this.”

“I look like a fucking, like a, like, I look fucking ridiculous!” Jacob said. “I am not-”

“Do you want to stand up Brian?” Erik asked.

“You’re dressed like that for Brian?” Trevor asked.

“I’m not dressed like this for anyone!” Jacob shouted. At least he was yelling at Trevor now, and not at Erik. “I don’t dress to please anybody! I dress for myself! And I am not wearing this! Who the hell dresses like this?!”

“Lance does, sometimes,” Chris said.

Silence.

Erik wondered how that had managed to shut Jacob up.

“Fine,” Jacob muttered, glaring at no one in particular. “Fine, fucking fine, I’m going.” He turned his glare on Erik. “If anyone fucking laughs at me, I’m beating you when I get home.”

“Looking forward to it,” Erik said, and reached past him to open the door. Whoa. Where had he come from?

AJ stepped forward, into the house.

This guy beat up Justin Timberlake. This fucker hit Dan. Erik tensed, muscles preparing for a fight, as Jacob took an aggressive step forward and Trevor demanded, “What the fuck do you want?”

“Where’s Miller?”

“He’s not here,” Jacob said.

“I didn’t ask where he’s not.” AJ pushed the door shut behind himself; it closed with a sound of finality. “I asked where he is.”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” Jacob sounded pissed off. A brief glance told Erik that Trevor looked conflicted. It was probably rough; on the one hand, this fucker had hit Dan, and Trevor was the last person on earth who’d let that happen. On the other hand, AJ McLean was in Trevor’s house.

Also, it was occurring to Erik that he was in a tight spot, himself. Not like AJ ran around hitting everybody, but if anything did happen, and Erik was involved - - well, AJ and Howie were best friends, brothers, right? If Erik was around when anything happened to AJ, Howie might not like that. But, hell, he was worrying for no reason. They weren’t going to start brawling right there by the front door.

“I decide what’s my business,” AJ said. “Where Dan is, that’s my business. Now it’s your business to tell me where that is.”

“It’s your business to get your ass out of our house,” Jacob snapped.

Time stopped.

AJ raised one hand and lowered his sunglasses a little, looking over them at Jacob. “Which one are you, again?”

He had better eyelashes than Dan. And Howie. And most women. What, was he wearing mascara or something?

“Jacob,” Chris said, while Jacob turned an angry shade of red.

AJ snorted, dismissing Jacob and addressing Erik. “I need Dan’s number.”

“It’s one eight hundred fuck yourself,” Trevor said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jacob asked you to leave.”

Damn. Ballsy.

AJ removed his sunglasses, turning his full attention on Trevor. “Do you have a problem?”

“We’re not going to give you Dan’s number,” Trevor said. “We told you to get out. It might embarrass you if we have to call the cops.”

AJ looked at Chris.

“What, I don’t have it,” Chris said.

AJ’s gaze hardened, like he was making mental note of Chris’s offense. “Where’s the blond one Nick’s fucking?”

“Where’s the what?!” Erik asked, feeling his eyes bug out of his head.

“You’d better fucking not be talking about Ashley,” Jacob said. Snarled, really. Threatened.

“Say that again,” Trevor said, taking a step forward, challenging AJ. “Say it.”

“Where,” AJ said, turning his body to face Trevor. “Is.” He dropped his sunglasses. “The blond one.” He flexed. “Nick’s.” His gaze drilled into Trevor’s, daring. The last word dropped between them, obscene. “Fucking.”

Trevor’s fist flew forward; AJ was in motion before it landed. A few fast, furious punches were exchanged, and then Erik was grabbing Trevor, hauling him back, getting in between them with his own back to AJ. “No, no, stop it, Trevor, stop it. Jesus.” Trevor was glaring, flexing, practically hopping, wanting to get to AJ. Erik pushed Trevor back farther and turned; AJ was seriously pissed off and, fuck, bleeding. “I think you should go,” Erik said.

“You,” AJ said, and raised a hand, pointing past Erik to Trevor, “are fucking dead.”

Jacob yanked the door open. “Get the fuck out.”

“Fucking,” AJ repeated. “Dead.” He spat onto the floor; there was blood in it. With fierce grace he pivoted, picked up his sunglasses, and left, slamming the door.

“Fucker,” Jacob snapped.

“Jesus,” Erik said.

“Ow,” Trevor said.

“That about sums it up,” Chris said.

Continue on to part sixteen...

Wow! This story has everything! Sex! Violence! Love! Hate! Passion! Drama! Justin Timberlake locked up in a closet! (“He wasn’t chained,” Kevin said, clearly tired of having to explain himself. “He was handcuffed.”)

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