Copyright November 24, 2002-February 4, 2005 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

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 sixteen...

        He loved Nick, and he wanted to give Nick everything, and he didn’t want to hide anything from Nick, but he felt oddly shy, undressing for Nick’s inspection.  He hadn’t been willing to do it in the living room; he felt more comfortable in the bedroom, a more private space.  Naked, he got on the bed, assuming the position he’d taken for the piercing; knees and elbows, head down.  He closed his eyes, hoping that he’d pass this test.

        A touch, and JC tried not to tense.  The skin there was sensitive, healing, not quite used to having metal jammed through it.

        “I like it.”  Nick’s tone was impressed.  The caress of his hand spread warmth across JC’s back.

        JC let Nick guide him onto his side.  Stretching out beside him, facing him, propped on one elbow, Nick looked at him with eyes that no longer closed him out.  “You did it for me?”

        “Yes,” JC said.

        Nick’s smile warmed him, surrounded him with love, filled him with light.  “I like it.  It’s perfect.  It looks great.”

        God, that smile, that warmth, that was what JC had been aching for.  It was the ultimate reward.  Everything was worth it.  The stress, the fear, the pain - - JC would do anything for that smile.

        Nick reached out, and long fingers stroked through JC’s hair.  JC almost closed his eyes in rich pleasure, but he couldn’t risk looking away from Nick, not in this moment.  “Does Howie know?”

        “No.”  He didn’t want to talk about Howie.

        “You’d better heal fast.”  Nick’s hand slid his down naked back, then up again, then down, a slow seduction of his flesh.  “He’s going to want to fuck you.”

        Howie didn’t matter.  Not when Nick was looking straight into his eyes.  “Do you want me?”

        Nick’s smile promised, invited.  His hand stilled, drawing his fingers in slowly, slowly, blunt nails dragging lightly across JC’s lower back, making JC shiver, making JC want.  “If I could, I’d already be in you.”

        Nick, god, Nick - - JC couldn’t explain the effect that those words, that voice, had on him, didn’t have the brainpower, didn’t have the time.  He kissed Nick, fast, his mouth pleading, his tongue apologizing.  Nick under his hands, it was good, it was right, it made him moan, made him press himself to Nick’s body.  This was the way things should be.  Nick’s skin, Nick’s hair, Nick’s scent, Nick’s moans, Nick’s body, this was perfect.  No other man could compare to this, to Nick.

        Nick rolled him onto his back, and common sense knew better, but JC wanted Nick to fuck him.  He’d never refused Nick under any circumstances; why deny Nick now?  His tolerance for needles was low, but his tolerance for pain was high, and he was willing to risk infection more than he was willing to risk disappointing Nick.

        “Does it hurt?” Nick asked, looking into his eyes.

        JC rubbed his hands over Nick’s denim-clad hips, wanting Nick out of those clothes and into him.  “It’s okay,” he said.

        Nick kissed him, tilting for a deeper angle, licking slowly against his tongue.  The pressure of Nick’s hand on his hip, firm, thumb stroking, was distracting him out of his mind.  “I’ll be gentle,” Nick whispered, and left his mouth, licking down his chest.

        JC moaned.  Oh…god…  Oh god, this, ah, ah, ah, he couldn’t - - JC groaned, burying his fingers in Nick’s hair, coming out of his own skin as Nick’s mouth surrounded his dick in delicate, wet heat.  Too, ah, too soft, too gentle, too unbearably light, and he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take this.  Nick had never done it like this, he’d never felt anything like this; and coming from Nick, when he’d been afraid he’d never be with Nick again, it was too much.  Too soon, he was coming apart, coming in Nick’s mouth, shocked by the suddenness of it and gasping for air.

        Nick covered his body again, kissing him until he relaxed, stroking his sides with a warm, soothing touch.  “I like it shaved.”

        JC opened his eyes.  “You do?”

        Nick kissed him some more, lazy, casual, making him want to be Nick’s forever.  “Yeah.  It looks good.”

        Somewhere in the back of JC’s brain, he knew that because of this off-hand comment, he’d still be shaving his pubes when he was fifty.  More important than that, though, was the fact that Nick was dressed and definitely hard.  He kissed Nick, moaning at the slide of Nick’s tongue in his mouth.  “What can I do for you?”

        Nick grinned at him, rising up, kneeling astride his hips.  Off came Nick’s shirt.  “I thought you’d never ask,” Nick said, opening his fly.

        Being in AJ’s house was like coming home in a weird way.  AJ’s home was his heart’s home, because it was where AJ lived.  AJ’s body was his dick’s home.  They fucked against the wall, on the floor, and across every available surface between the front door and AJ’s bed.

        Sweating on AJ’s sheets, coming on AJ’s flesh, Joey lived out his fantasies, fucking and rutting and reaching climaxes so intense the air pulsed.

        In Joey’s fantasies, like in his present reality, AJ was the center of everything.  AJ was the driving force behind all sexual pleasure.  AJ was impossible to contain, thrusting and twisting and pushing and pulling and fucking.  AJ was untamed, a wild thing, moving with violent grace and animal control, slamming him into orgasm without warning, the pure embodiment of everything Joey thought of as sex.

        In Joey’s wildest fantasies, things were different.  Joey was ashamed of those fantasies.  They were romantic and sentimental, something Ashley would adore, something AJ would laugh at and make fun of and think less of him for.

        Joey was in love with AJ.  He wasn’t fucked up over it, but he was definitely in love.  Sometimes he thought that it might be nice to express that love.  It might be nice to do something with AJ besides fuck.  Eat dinner, maybe, or hold a conversation.  They’d used to do those things, used to have a full relationship, complete with five-hour phone calls and whispered intimacies.  Joey would have loved to take AJ out, spend time talking, spend time just being together.  He barely even got time to look at AJ anymore, other than when AJ was on his dick.  Of course AJ looked fucking amazing on his dick, the hottest thing he’d ever seen, but with all of the moving and thrusting and climaxing, and all of those naked body parts right there to focus on, he didn’t get a lot of real time to take in the details.

        And it might be nice, to do that.  To look not only at the shape of AJ’s ass, the curve of AJ’s dick, and line of AJ’s shoulders, but at the shape of AJ’s eyes, the curve of AJ’s mouth, the line of AJ’s jaw.  He’d used to spend hours looking at AJ, into those incredible eyes, listening to that incredible voice, just being there, experiencing.

        Joey loved having sex with AJ.  He’d made a concentrated effort to have the most sex possible, to experience as many sexual activities with as many people as he possibly could.  Sometimes he thought that sex was his calling.  And of all of the sex he’d ever had, AJ was the best.  AJ was absolutely, by far, the hottest person he’d ever met.  There was this intense passion to AJ, an animal carnality that couldn’t be denied.

        He’d been fucking Ashley lately, and Ashley was a satisfying lay, a rewarding fuck.  But comparing Ashley to AJ was comparing a frisky kitten to a jungle panther.  Joey had nearly forgotten how fucking AJ could be just like getting fucked, himself.

        He loved having sex with AJ.

        But, more than that, he simply loved AJ.

        And in his wildest fantasies, that was okay.

        “Ashley!”

        Whoa.  Ashley turned to see Trevor and Erik coming from the kitchen.  “Hey,” he said.  They both looked like they had something urgent to tell him; Erik looked ready to explode.  “What?”

        “Do you know anything about what happened?” Trevor asked.

        “About what happened when?” Ashley asked.  “Where?”  Was something going on with Jacob?  Dan?  His parents?  He looked more closely at Trevor.  Was that a bruise on Trevor’s jaw?  “Are you okay?”

        “AJ was here,” Trevor said.  “Last night.”

        “He wanted Dan’s phone number,” Erik said.

        “We weren’t giving it to him,” Trevor said.

        “He and Trevor got into a scuffle,” Erik said.  “He was being a real asshole, major attitude, insinuating shit.”

        “He said Nick’s fucking you,” Trevor said, giving him a Look, complete with a capital L.

        Ashley had not been ready for everybody to know about that.  “He did?”

        “I thought Jacob was going to have a conniption,” Erik said.

        “Jacob was there?”  Was his voice squeaking like that?

        “And Chris,” Erik said.  “Trevor has some interesting stories about that,” he added, nudging Trevor.

        “Wait,” Ashley said.  “What?”

        “What part of Trevor’s sucking Chris’s dick did you not get?” Erik asked.

        “Hey!” Trevor said, looking startled.

        “What?” Ashley asked.  He was getting too much information at one time.  “You, you, Jacob, and Chris were here.  AJ showed up, wanted Dan’s phone number, said shit about me being with Nick, and hit you?”

        “Trevor threw the first punch,” Erik said.  “Technically, he missed, but I was still impressed.”

        “Nick was here this morning,” Trevor said.

        Nick?  Ashley’s body was caving in on itself.  “Here?”  Why did his voice sound like he was some sort of dying duck?

        “He got Trevor right in the stomach,” Erik said.  “I missed it.”

        “We just had an argument,” Trevor said.  “He’s just pissed off that AJ and I got into it.  And he thinks Dan stole Justin from AJ or something.”

        “And he’s pissed that you’re stealing Joey away from him,” Erik added.

        This was bad in at least eighty-four different ways.  Ashley dropped onto the sofa, resisting the urge to groan.

        But Nick thought that he was stealing Joey.  That was good, right?  That meant that he was winning.

        He didn’t want to win.  Not if it meant losing Nick.

        God, this was fucked up.  He was fucked up.  He was in lust with Nick, and Nick had come over to punch Trevor, and AJ had told everybody that Nick was fucking him, and it sounded like Erik hadn’t believed it but what was he going to do when Jacob asked him about it?

        When was the last time he’d seen Jacob, anyway?

        He was stealing Joey away from Nick.  Nick even said so.  He was winning.  That was good.  He’d get Joey, and Nick would cease to matter.  He’d never have to deal with Nick again.  And neither would Joey, really.  That meant he’d never have to have sex with Nick again, so there would be nothing to explain to anybody.

        Good.

        Right?

        He looked up at Trevor.  “I’m…  God, I’m sorry.”  He stood, wondering when things had gotten this complicated.  “I…”  He didn’t know what to say.

        “This makes twice AJ’s come in here throwing fists, and the third time Nick’s shown up to do his intimidation routine,” Erik said.  “I still say it’s only a matter of time before the rest of them start coming around to harass us.”

        Ashley knew that he was probably supposed to feel better now - - he was taking Joey away from Nick, and that was a good thing, because obviously Nick didn’t deserve Joey - - but he didn’t.  He felt worse.  He felt guilty, and dirty, and ashamed, because he still wanted Nick.  He was in love with Joey, and Nick had come to his house expressly for the purpose of assaulting his best friend, but he still wanted Nick.  What did that say about him?

        He knew what it said.

        Now that he was finally getting into gay sex, he’d abandon all morals for good dick.

        Really not what he wanted to believe about himself.

        “I have to go take a shower,” he said, averting his gaze, heading for the stairs.

        He’d let Nick fuck him in front of Joey until he’d been on the point of physical collapse, and he didn’t have the guy’s phone number.

        Trevor opened the door, saw him, and said, “Oh, god,” getting a doomed look.

        Howie didn’t know what that was about, and didn’t care.  He gave Trevor a puzzled smile and asked, “Is Erik here?”

        “Erik,” Trevor said, as doomed became relieved.  “Right.  Come in.  He’s upstairs.  Erik!” Trevor shouted, closing the door as Howie entered the house.  “Howie’s here!”

        “Hey!”  Erik jogged down the stairs.  “Hey, hi.”

        “Erik-Michael.”  Howie put a hand on his upper arm, pulling him in for a soft brush of lips over his cheek.  “Hi.”

        Erik was blushing, and Trevor was openly watching, his expression curious and overly interested.  Erik recovered, giving Howie a conspiratorial grin.  “Tell Trevor you’re not here to kick his ass for fighting AJ.”

        “It’s all right,” Howie said.  “AJ’s an adult.  He makes his own choices.”  Eventually, Kevin would tear Trevor limb from limb, and watching that would be good enough for Howie.

        “I’m almost ready to go,” Erik said.  Of course he wasn’t quite ready; that would have been a minor miracle.  “Come on up.”

        Howie gave Trevor a brief smile and followed Erik upstairs.  Stepping inside Erik’s room, he said, “I’ve been in here before.”

        “You have?” Erik asked, sounding surprised.  Remembered shock and arousal flared in his eyes.  “With JC,” he said, faltering slightly.

        “Yes.”  Howie smiled fondly.  “That was a good night.”

        “Yeah,” Erik said.  He seemed to be registering important information, like maybe that he was alone with Howie, in his room, where Howie had already proven willing to commit illicit acts.

        They were on Erik’s turf now.  Winning on his own turf was one thing; winning on the enemy’s turf was even better, and Howie intended to experience it today.  “Erik-Michael,” he said, sliding his hand up Erik’s arm, over soft skin, beneath the sleeve of Erik’s T-shirt.  “Maybe you should close the door.”

        Erik took a look at him, took a look at the open doorway, took another look at him, and then practically ran to the door, closing it firmly, locking it quickly.  “Okay?” he asked, immediately back in Howie’s space.

        “We shouldn’t do this,” Howie said, putting his hands just above Erik’s hips, feeling the heat of Erik’s body through the cotton of Erik’s shirt.  He leaned in, gazing at Erik’s mouth from beneath lowered lashes, murmuring, “We might get caught.”

        “It’s okay,” Erik said quickly, pulling him closer, already getting hard against his body.  “We’ll just,” and Erik kissed him, wet and hungry.

        Howie kissed back, slowing Erik down a little, taming his tongue.  Stroking Erik’s thighs, Howie backed him towards the bed.  Erik was trying to lead, used to having the upper hand, but Howie didn’t intend to let him keep that role.  If anyone had the upper hand, it was Howie, and Erik was on the path to learning just how far that went.  “Erik-Michael,” Howie said, licking at Erik’s lower lip, panting softly as Erik’s hand slid down his chest.  When Erik’s hand closed over his arousal, he made a breathy moaning sound, tightening his grip just so.  “Erik-Michael,” he panted, making it sound like a question.

        “Yeah,” Erik said, rubbing his dick, making him harder, kissing him hard.  “Okay.”  Erik knelt, opening his pants, pulling out his dick.

        Howie smiled, closing his eyes.  Victory was sweet.  Fucking Erik’s mouth wasn’t bad, either.

        Jacob was responsive to his touch.  He always got a reaction, some sort of shiver, a somewhat panicked look, as though Jacob liked it too much and didn’t know what to do about that.  It seemed like Jacob had started wanting to touch back, and that was good.

        Brian hadn’t had much opportunity to stroke his love’s skin.  It was smooth, pale, beckoning his fingers, calling for his touch.  He wanted to touch it, to mark it.  Jacob already had tattoos, but Brian didn’t like them.  No, Brian wanted to mark Jacob for himself.  To carve his initials into his love’s flesh.  To write it across Jacob’s back, sharp edge of blade over naked skin, blood welling up like ink.  Brian Was Here.

        There were things that they never talked about, but all of those things, every one of them, centered around five attractive men who seemed to want them dead, or at least horribly psychologically (and sometimes physically) maimed.  The fact that Lance had come to him specifically, and was having a difficult time starting a real conversation, suggested that Lance wanted to talk about one thing in particular.

        Chris’s favorite subject.

        Brian.

        Chris’s favorite subject, however, was something that he actually didn’t want to discuss with Lance, because Lance was in closer physical proximity to Brian than he was lately, and that made him want to attack Lance with a butcher knife.  And that wasn’t the sort of behavior that Chris thought might be good for their friendship.  So he watched Lance avoid the subject, and hoped that Lance would chicken out and go home so he could go lick Brian’s watch some more.

        Lance was many things, but essentially not a coward, and eventually he said, “I’ve been talking to Brian.”

        Well.  Chris mentally reviewed his kitchen for the placement of the knife block.

        “Do you trust him?”

        Chris wanted to laugh, either merrily or maniacally.  Trust Brian?  Trust?  Brian?  The very idea of it was preposterous.  Ludicrous.  Insane.  “Have you met him?”

        Lance looked like he regretted starting this conversation.  “I know he’s hurt you-”

        Chris knew that Lance understood how thoroughly incomplete it was to say that Brian had hurt him - - that was like saying that the atomic bomb had done a little damage to Japan - - so he let it go.  “Brian and reality are like oil and water.  They’re like black and white.  They’re like - - they don’t even have a passing acquaintance.  It’s the same way with Brian and the truth.  You can’t trust Brian.  You can’t trust anything he does or anything he says.  You can’t trust the air he breathes.  There’s nothing about Brian that’s actually true.  Sometimes I think the color of his eyes is a lie.  Brian doesn’t live his life the way everyone else does.  He’s in his very own world in his very own universe, and we’re just toys he entertains himself with.”

        “It sounds like you’re saying he’s insane,” Lance said, clearly not sure how seriously to take him.

        “He’s beautiful,” Chris said.  “He’s perfect.  He’s the reason there’s life on this planet.  The universe exists only for him.  I love him so much my blood is his blood, my life is his life.  But he’s deadly.  He’ll kill you if you let him.  Some nights you’ll beg for it.”

        Lance looked disturbed, which was sad, really, because Chris had toned down his rhetoric to make it more palatable to an inexperienced audience.  “He’s not insane, he’s evil?” Lance asked.

        “You don’t believe me,” Chris said.  Here was this problem again.  Warn Lance about Brian - - really warn him, tell him everything, make it crystal clear exactly how much damage Brian could do - - or not?  Chris was probably the only person standing between Lance and utter devastation, and since Lance was his best friend and everything, he didn’t want to see Lance writhing in agony.  But if he warned Lance, he’d betray Brian, and that couldn't happen.  Especially because Lance had a tendency to confront people about things, and Brian would figure out that he’d fucked up Brian’s plans for Lance, and that wouldn’t be good for Chris.  So he could warn Lance to an extent, and hope that Lance took it to heart.  The trouble with that was, since he had a tendency to sound completely insane when he talked about Brian, people didn’t take him all that seriously.

        “Chris, he’s been in my house, he’s made me dinner, we’ve talked for hours - - he seems totally normal.”

        “If I talked to Howie, he’d seem like a perfectly nice guy,” Chris said.  “I’d think he was a friendly person.  I’d think he was totally normal.  Would I be right?”

        Lance studied the air behind Chris, thinking.  “Yes,” he said, meeting Chris’s eyes.  “You’d be right.”

        “You’re delusional,” Chris said.  Lance had gone over the deep end.  It was a real shame, too, because usually Lance was dependable.

        “Howie is nice, and friendly,” Lance said.  “He is normal.  He’s just…”  Lance gestured, at a loss for words.

        “Completely taken over your brain and sexuality,” Chris said.

        “Yeah,” Lance admitted, sitting back.

        “Is he dangerous?”

        “To me,” Lance said.

        “To JC?”

        Lance hesitated.  “I don’t know.”

        “Brian’s dangerous,” Chris said.  “Not to everyone, not to children on the street.  But he’s dangerous to me, and to Jacob, and to you.”

        “And you’re still in love with him?”

        “If the ship went down, and there was only one space left in the lifeboat, and it was the four of you, my mom, my sisters, and Brian in the water…”  Chris smiled weakly.  “Sorry, Lance.”

        Jacob was on his back, the covers tangled around his legs.  His chest was bared, and Brian wanted to stroke his ribcage, trace the delineation of each rib, lick up his torso to soothe the hard points of Jacob’s nipples with slow, burning caresses of tongue.

        Brian wanted Jacob naked to his hands, vulnerable and responsive, twisting and arching and pressing into his touch.  He wanted to stroke Jacob’s naked, quivering thighs, feel the tension of muscle, caress in between and press questing fingers to unexplored privacies.

        Jacob rolled onto his side, curling up on himself, looking young and small and vulnerable, like he didn’t have a brutal tongue and an ego the size of Texas.

        But tongues could be silenced.  Egos could be squashed.  As far as Brian was concerned, Jacob was young, small, and vulnerable.  Those blue eyes said it all, and when they looked at Brian, they begged for glorious suffering that only Brian could provide.

        Erik kissed him again, and Howie allowed it.  Things had gone well; he wasn’t going to have to get Erik off, since Erik had taken care of that with one hand while giving him head.  Sucking softly on Erik’s bottom lip, Howie lifted one hand from Erik’s chest to fluff out his own hair, restoring its style.  He wished there were a videocamera in the room.  The guys would have loved to see him moving backwards to the bed, Erik crawling after him, sucking his dick.

        Breaking the kiss, Howie rubbed the fuzz on Erik’s scalp.  “Maybe we should go.  I don’t want your friends to get the wrong idea.”  He knew that Erik already had told those assholes against his wishes, but he wasn’t going to call Erik on it just yet.

        “Okay,” Erik said, glassy-eyed and breathless.

        Howie left a soft kiss on his cheek.  He couldn’t wait for the day he could destroy Erik’s life.  It couldn’t arrive soon enough.

        Sex with Joey was the only time AJ felt like he was fucking someone who could handle him.  “Fuck it, fuck me, harder, harder…”  He could be as physical as he wanted to be, could get a little rough, and Joey just took it, gave it back with enthusiasm.  “Harder, oh yeah…”  AJ knew he was a very demanding lover, and Joey met his demands.

        He rode Joey’s dick, fucking himself on it, holding Joey’s gaze.  Joey was starting to moan, starting to try to control his movements, reaching for his hips.  AJ had Joey’s dick at just the right angle, and he wasn’t about to let anybody mess with his rhythm, so he shoved Joey’s hands away, growling, slamming down hard.

        Joey grabbed his hips, lifting him up and dropping him onto his back, fucking in faster, groaning, hips pumping roughly, hands trying to hold him down.  It felt good, it felt fucking fantastic, and AJ wanted more of that aggression.  He shoved Joey off of him, rolling over and rising onto his hands and knees.  When Joey’s hands were on his hips again, yanking him into position, he pushed back as Joey pushed forward, and their bodies came together, Joey’s dick plunging in deep.

        AJ stayed in motion, rocking steadily, meeting Joey’s every thrust.  “Fuck my ass, Joey…”  Joey was groaning loudly, driving into him hard, gripping his waist, hands tightening to the rhythmic sound of skin against skin.  “Fuck it, give it to me…”  The feel of it, rising inside him, “fuck yeah,” closer and closer, pushing right up against it, “fuck my ass, give it to me,” god, AJ slammed back against Joey, gritting his teeth and reaching for it, “give it to me, give it to me,” reaching for it, “give it to me,” so fucking close he could feel it fucking coming-

        Fuck!  AJ pushed and rolled, rising up and pushing Joey down, getting on top from behind, smearing precum over his shaft.  Joey was spreading his thighs, ready for it, and when AJ pressed in Joey leaned back into it, groaning low and desperate, hand already working on his dick.  Oh, yeah, this was what AJ wanted, this was it, right here, tight on his dick.  Fucking into Joey’s hot ass was like nothing else; AJ rode it low and hard, quick short strokes that had Joey cursing and begging and damning him to hell.  He was close, he was close, almost there, almost, fuck it, almost, almost, almost - - yes, yes, yes!  AJ came, getting off deep inside Joey’s body, moaning with the final bursts of pleasure.

        When his head stopped spinning from the whirl of climax, AJ pulled out, moving back; and Joey rolled over, lying back, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.  AJ climbed over him, kissing him, rubbing against him body to body, groin to groin, hands everywhere.

        Joey kissed AJ passionately, rolling him onto his back, muttering sex and awe against his skin, spreading his thighs, ready to push love and passion into his body.

        Ashley touched his cheek.  “Are you?”

        “I’m fine.”  The bruise was the least of his problems; it was faint, and didn’t hurt.  The absolutely certainty that Kevin now hated him, that hurt.  He handed Ashley’s question back: “Are you?”

        Taking a seat at the table, Ashley stirred his cereal, watching the action.  “I don’t know.  I’m in love with Joey, but there’s this thing with Nick, and now Nick’s coming the whole way over here just to, what, scare you?  Get revenge?  I don’t know what to do.  If I push hard and get Joey, this can all be over, and Nick will be out of the picture.  That’s what I want, or that’s what I thought I wanted, but I don’t know anymore.  I want to talk to Nick, more than anything, but I don’t even have his number.  And if I do go see him…”

        “What?” Trevor asked, watching Ashley watch the cereal.

        “Nick’s dangerous,” Ashley finally said, lifting his eyes.  “Not, I’m not afraid of him hitting me or anything, it’s not like that.  It’s just that he has this effect on me, and he complicates everything.  If I go over to his house and…  I’ve never had sex with him, without Joey being there.  I’m afraid of what that’ll mean, if it happens.”

        “So don’t have sex with him,” Trevor said.

        Ashley shook his head.  “It isn’t that easy.  Nick’s…complicated.”

        “If you’re in love with Joey, focus on that,” Trevor said.  “Forget Nick.  It’s just sex.  You’re getting sex from Joey.  And it’s not like that’s bad sex.”

        “Hell, no,” Ashley said.  “Sex with Joey is…  He’s incredible.”

        “So forget about Nick,” Trevor said.

        Ashley went back to stirring.  “You try forgetting about the most intense orgasms of your life.”

        Yeah, Trevor could see how that might be difficult.  “It’s just willpower,” he said.  “Self-restraint.  Don’t give Nick a chance.  Focus on Joey.”

        Ashley sighed, dropping his spoon.  “What are you doing today?”

        “Going to see Chris.  You going to be okay?”

        “Yeah,” Ashley said.  “I’m fine.  I just have to get over a few things.  You know when Jacob’s going to be around?”

        “I don’t know,” Trevor said.  “He’s out with Brian, so we may not see him for a few weeks.”

        Ashley sighed.  “It’s weird.  It’s like we all never see each other anymore.”

        “Yeah,” Trevor said.  “We’ll have to get some time together.  Maybe go out, just the five of us.”

        “That’d be good,” Ashley said.

        “Hey, if you do see Jacob?  Find out for me how far he’s really getting with Brian.”  Trevor grinned.  “Nobody voluntarily spends that much time with Jacob.  There has to be something else going on.”

        He wanted to take AJ, to claim AJ, to spill AJ across a table in front of a crowd of millions and fuck AJ there so they’d all see, so they’d all know, that AJ was his.  AJ was the best lay he’d ever had, the most phenomenal sex humanly possible, and he didn’t want other people putting their hands all over it.  AJ was his, his to fuck, his to experience, and he wished he could keep AJ all to himself.

        AJ rose back, sitting up, easing into a mind-warping stretch.  The rational part of Joey’s brain knew that AJ was a professional performer with control, flexibility, grace, and comfort in his own body; but Joey’s rational brain had disappeared at some point on the drive to AJ’s house, and all that was left was saying things like “sexy” and “limber” and “look at his body” and “fuck him now.”

        He took AJ’s hips in his hands, and he pushed and rolled, and then AJ was beneath him, eyes calculating, resisting, seeing his move as a challenge.  AJ had stopped, which meant that AJ was done - - once AJ got started, there was no pause in the action - - and when AJ was done, everything was over.  But Joey wasn’t ready for it to be over, wasn’t ready to stop.  He wanted to keep going.  He’d never be ready to let go of AJ, not really.

        AJ was under his body, relaxed, falsely calm while anticipating his next move.  AJ’s hands were on his hands, on his wrists, and AJ was watching him, weighing, waiting.

        He looked.  He looked into AJ’s eyes.  He took in the length of AJ’s top lashes, the thickness of the bottom ones.  He re-learned the set of AJ’s mouth, the shape of AJ’s goatee, the rise of AJ’s cheekbones.  AJ’s eyes were dark, and deep, and dangerous, and he never wanted to look at anything else.

        But he wasn’t supposed to love AJ.  He didn’t even think that AJ wanted him to.  So he closed his eyes against all of that dark, dangerous beauty, and he kissed AJ.  This, he was allowed.

        AJ took a lot out of him - - took everything, sometimes - - but he had one orgasm left.  After he came, when AJ was kissing him one last time, rolling them over and about to leave the bed, he said “I love you” soft and fast, in his heart, so no one would hear.

        It was dangerous to love AJ.

        He’d already learned that lesson.

        JC’s hands covered his.  “I can’t come to see you, I can’t call you, this can’t happen again until this is all over.”

        “I love seeing you, baby.”  Nick emphasized his words with a squeeze.  “But we have to keep things looking right for Ashley and Erik.”

        “I know.”  JC leaned back against him.  “I miss you.”

        Nick linked their fingers.  “I know, baby.  I miss you, too.”  He did, sometimes.  JC was special to him.  Nobody was quite like JC.  He felt JC take a deep breath, and shifted to press his thigh more intimately to JC’s.  JC’s breath stuttered, and Nick distracted himself from smiling by nuzzling aside JC’s hair to kiss JC’s neck.

        “Nick,” JC said, turning in his embrace, spinning carefully so that their hands remained linked.  “We can make it work.  Erik’s so dense he wouldn’t notice it if we fucked right in front of him.”

        “JC…  I’m sorry, baby, no,” Nick said, his thumb massaging light circles in JC’s palm.  “It’s too much of a risk.  And I have to give Joey and Ashley all of my attention right now.”

        JC lowered his gaze.  “It’s really hard to do this without you,” he said, stating it as a quiet fact.  Sometimes JC was upset enough to beg, but usually he was too proud and reined it in.  Nick liked that.  He couldn’t stand whiny bitches like Timberlake.

        Nick kissed JC’s temple.  JC’s hair smelled good, like almonds, maybe.  He liked JC’s hair longer like this.  It kind of reminded him of Howie, in a way.  “I know we can’t hang out together, but that doesn’t mean I’m not there at all.  We’ll still run into each other.  We’re spending time with all of the same people.  I’m keeping an eye out.”  He smiled at JC.  “We’re all in this together.”

        JC met his eyes.  He saw it there, that JC didn’t believe that last sentence but wanted to, because he’d said it; the words weren’t important, what JC really wanted to believe was him.

        He kissed JC, tenderly.  “It’ll be okay, baby.”  Another kiss.  JC’s mouth opened to him on a soft moan; the first slide of JC’s tongue was accompanied with an aching groan as JC released Nick’s hands and began to reach under his clothes.

        Carefully, Nick broke their kiss, staying close until JC’s eyes opened and focused.  “You’ll be all right.”  He stroked his fingers through JC’s hair, tucking it behind JC’s ears.  He smiled, because he liked JC and he liked that JC was in love with him.  “You just take care of Estrada.”

        JC’s hands rose, fingertips stroking across Nick’s forehead, feathering across his eyebrows, thumb tracing down the line of his nose.  JC’s mouth was kissed red; JC’s eyes were full of longing.  But he managed a smile when he said, “Walk me to the door.”

        Nick did just that, his arm around JC’s waist.  “Erik doesn’t stand a chance against you.”  They stopped in the foyer; he touched the collar of JC’s shirt, stroking JC’s neck.  He’d used to say things to JC, things like “you make me feel like I can touch infinity” and “when I look into your eyes I see everything I want in my life” and “one touch from you is just the beginning of all I’ll ever need.”  He hadn’t made them up himself; the other guys had suggested them to him.  But now, looking at JC, he remembered why he’d said them.  He’d even kind of meant them, in a weird little way.  He’d really gotten fond of JC, in the middle of everything.

        JC kissed him, open-mouthed, full of longing, edged with desperation.  He knew how much JC wanted him, how incomplete JC felt without him.  He’d designed it that way.

        He kissed JC’s cheek, and JC left, and he closed the door.

        Hell.  JC’d really gone and done it.  Damn.  Nick wondered if there was anything JC wouldn’t do for him.

        He’d have to find out.

        It wasn’t AJ’s usual style - - he only pulled it out for certain people - - but he was capable of it.  With Joey, he tended to focus on pushing his body to the next climax, but he could try a little romance for once.  It wouldn’t hurt.  And he was curious about how Joey might react.

        So he eased into it.  He relaxed his grip, slowed the strokes of his hands, kissed with a little less edge.  No snarling, no biting, just slow, steady, enjoying the moment, exploring Joey’s body instead of exploring Joey’s limits.

        Joey fell for it like a ton of bricks.  Before AJ knew it they were rubbing, nuzzling, feeling each other up like taking their hands off of each other would mean instant death.

        It wasn’t bad.  Now that AJ had released all of his aggression during sex, this post-sex rolling around thing was okay.  It was a nice way to ease back out of the moment.  He could get used to this.  As long as Joey kept giving him what he needed during the actual event, he could give this to Joey afterward, and they could all go home happy.

        It made ending Joey’s visit harder, though.  Without getting up after the last orgasm, it was hard to figure out when things were actually over.  They made out for a while, and then they made out for a while more, and AJ was starting to feel really, really good, and from the way Joey was moaning, Joey felt pretty damned good, too.

        But AJ’s body was done, and he still had calls to make and people to harass, so he dragged Joey out of bed.  It took at least twenty minutes in the foyer for their tongues to finish saying good-bye, but finally AJ pried their bodies apart and pushed Joey out the door with a smile.

        Good sex.  Good, good, solid sex.  Nothing like several hours of hardcore fucking to get his brain back in order.  He’d call Justin first, and then-

        -and then his phone would ring.  “Hello.”  He blinked.  “He pierced his what?”

        He didn’t feel safe in Kevin’s arms.

        He felt complete in Kevin’s arms.

        He felt whole there.

        He felt real there.

        He didn’t feel real here.  This wasn’t real.  This was all lies, all pretenses, all false fronts and half-truths.  His friendship with Dan, that was a huge lie.  He hadn’t said a true word to Dan since he’d said hello.

        He wanted to get back to Kevin.  He didn’t know what was happening back there, without him, and he didn’t like that.  Kevin might already be fucking Trevor, but there was no way Trevor was good enough for that, no way Trevor could be for Kevin what he’d been.

        No one could take his place.

        Did he have a place?

        Justin slipped off of the bed, picking up his phone and locking himself in the bathroom.  He dialed quickly, sitting on the edge of the tub.

        “Kirkpatrick.”

        “Hey, it’s me,” he said softly, not wanting to wake Dan.  “What’s going on?”

        “In the immediate vicinity, not much,” Chris said.  “Lance was here.  How’s New York?”

        Justin didn’t care about New York.  “How’s Kevin?”

        “He’s fine,” Chris said.  He sounded so normal Justin knew it was fake; something was wrong.

        “Fine?” Justin asked.  “Have you talked to him?  Is he fucking Trevor?”

        “I might be fucking Trevor soon,” Chris said.  “Something to look forward to.”

        “How’s Kevin?” Justin demanded, whispering it, wishing Chris would just tell him what was going on.  “I’m coming home.”

        “Did you seduce Dan?”

        “Fuck Dan.  I have to-”

        “You can’t come running home,” Chris said.  “Not everything is about Kevin.  He’s fine, he’s focused on Trevor, I saw him yesterday and he’s the same as when you left.  You’re supposed to be getting Dan hooked.”

        “I don’t give a fuck about Dan,” Justin snapped.  The fucking - - what was he even doing, hanging out with, hell, was there anyone with a more laughable past and less of a future than Dan?  Justin couldn’t believe he was wasting his time on this.  Dan was a fucking joke.  O-Town was a fucking joke.  And they thought they could buddy up and hang out with him, with his group?  Sure, equality for everyone, people were people, but these pretentious little fuckers thought that they were equal not because they were people but because they were real musicians.  Except they weren’t, they weren’t real musicians, they couldn’t sing, they couldn’t dance, they had no stage presence, they had no individual style, they were nobody and they were going nowhere and Justin couldn’t believe they had the arrogance to think that they were equal.  Not just equal, better.  Better!  He’d worked his fucking ass off to get anywhere, to get a shade of respect, and now they wanted the world handed to them?

        He had to do this.  He wanted to go through with it.  Dan fucking deserved it.  And maybe this would be good for him, being away from Kevin.  Maybe if he stayed away, it would get easier.  “Maybe one more day.  I haven’t even tried to seduce him yet.”  He’d been too busy getting through each hour without Kevin.  Sometimes he felt like he was being strangled, like he’d be able to breathe if he could just get close to Kevin again.

        Dan was a distraction from that, which was good.  Chris said that Kevin was focusing on Trevor; Justin could focus on Dan.  Focus on bringing Dan down, tearing Dan apart.

        “What’s AJ up to?”

        “He’s harassing the other guys,” Chris said.  “He went to their house, trying to ask for Dan’s phone number.  He and Trevor started fighting.”

        “Fighting?” Justin asked.  What?  “Punching fighting, or yelling fighting?”

        “Punching fighting,” Chris said.  “Trevor drew first blood.”

        “Damn.”  Justin didn’t know whether to take Trevor out, or applaud him.  Justin wasn’t exactly AJ’s number one fan, but he also thought that someone needed to slap Trevor back into reality for stepping out of line like that.

        Kevin was going to kill Trevor.

        Justin was both proud and jealous.

        “I have issues.”

        “Join the club,” Chris said.

        “I’d better go.  I’ll talk to you later.”

        “Bye.”

        “Bye.”  Justin hung up, sighing.  Chris wasn’t telling him everything.  He wasn’t going to put thought into that, because if he thought about it he’d have to think things about Chris and Kevin and sex and fucking, and then he’d be crippled with jealousy and have to chase after Chris with a sledgehammer, and he didn’t want to do that.

        Focus on Dan.

        Justin went back to the bedroom, sitting on his side of the bed.  He looked at Dan.  Dan was a handsome guy.  Justin wasn’t going to do cartwheels over him, but he was good-looking.  When his eyes were open, they were very very blue; when they were closed, his lashes were so thick and dark they almost looked like something Justin should touch.  His mouth looked soft.  His body didn’t suck, either.

        Dan’s eyes opened.  Very very blue.  He smiled warmly, rolling onto his back, stretching in a relaxed, satisfied way.  “Juthtin.  Morning.”

        “Morning,” Justin said.  Dan was such a good friend, it was bizarre that their entire friendship was false.  It created a weird backwards feeling in Justin’s head.  If he weren’t who he was, and Dan weren’t who Dan was, and Dan’s friends weren’t arrogant greedy undeserving fuckers, Justin and Dan might have been friends.

        They wanted fame, success, celebrity, and respect handed to them on a silver platter.  None of that had been handed to Justin, and the only thing he was willing to hand to them was pain.  One way or another, he was going to make sure that happened.

        Jacob opened his eyes, suspicious.  Brian was crouched over him, kneeling across his hips, grinning down at him and poking him in the forehead.  There was a “come and play” twinkle in Brian’s eyes that Jacob couldn’t help but respond to.  He smiled, reaching up to take hold of Brian’s hand before he got poked again.  “Hi.”

        “Hi.”  Brian tugged gently on his fingers, still smiling.  “I made breakfast, and it’s going to get cold sometime, so get up.  There are clothes on the chair.  If they don’t fit, you can take something else.”  Brian tweaked his nose and got up.  “If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to eat without you,” Brian said, leaving the room.

        Jacob rubbed his nose, sitting up.  He couldn’t stop smiling.  Today was going to be great.  Every day with Brian was great.

        “JC pierced his perineum.”

        Howie played that sentence over again in his head.  He didn’t like it any better the second time.  “For you?”

        “Yeah.  He did it last night.  It looks fucking awesome, but you can’t fuck him while it’s healing.  He shaved everything, so you can really see the tattoo, too.”

        That fucking bitch.  That was it.  “This is over.”

        “Howie-”

        “I have to go,” Howie said, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at Erik across the store.  “We’ll talk about this later.”

        “Don’t kill him or anything.  He’s my favorite lay.”

        “I’ll take care of it.  Bye.”

        “Damn, Howie, sometimes you scare me.  Bye.”

        Howie hung up, tucking away his phone.  He was tired of fucking with JC.  He was tired of all of the back and forth, and he was tired of JC pulling these fucking stunts behind his back.  Either they were going to do things his way, together, or he was going to do things his way, on his own.  And if he did, JC wasn’t going to like the results.

        He walked back to the counter, giving Erik a smile.  “Did you find anything you like?”

        And then Justin had called, asking about Kevin. Of course Chris knew how Kevin was; Kevin had been balls-deep in his ass not that many hours ago.  Not that he wanted to share that information with Justin.

        The five of them shared everything.  Anything and everything and all of the somethings in between.  The only things that Chris chose not to share fell under the heading of “Brian,” because that was private, that was something he clung to as his very own.  And because some of it was pretty damned humiliating, out of context.  Or, really, in context.  So he didn’t share all of his Brian stuff, and Justin didn’t share all of the Kevin stuff, and Lance didn’t share all of the Howie stuff, etc., etc., and they all understood that, they all got why.

        But now Chris couldn’t tell Justin things about Kevin, not because they were private and treasured and mortifying, but because they’d hurt Justin.  And that sucked.  Sucked, and made him feel like shit.  He’d done a lot of things in his life, some good, some bad, but hurting Justin had never been on the list.  He never hurt Justin, or any of the other guys.  This was new, and bad.

        He’d talk to Kevin.  He’d call and say, listen up, bub, this ain’t happenin’.  He’d tell Kevin that they could work together, but it was strictly business.  None of this fooling around mess.  No sex.  Just action against a common enemy.

        Good.

        Right.

        He dialed.

        “Hello.”

        “We can’t have sex anymore.”

        “Really.”

        “Really,” Chris said.  “No more sex.  Just business.”

        “Whatever you want,” Kevin said.

        Chris frowned.  “I know you don’t think I’m your love goddess, but you could pretend to sound a little more disappointed.”  The doorbell rang.

        “What makes you think you’re not my love goddess?”

        Good lord, was Kevin playing with him?  “I didn’t think I was really your type.”

        “Do you really think I’d get in bed with you this often if I weren’t attracted to you?  Do you really think I’d suck your dick if I didn’t want you?”

        Oh.  Jesus, that was a whack in the face with the obvious stick.  “What are you saying?”  Chris peeked through the peephole.  “Hey, Trevor’s at my front door.”

        “Fuck him.”

        That tone of voice was a little, um, angry.  “Do you mean that literally?”

        “Yes.”

        “You know I have that little performance problem.”

        “You’ve never had it with me.”

        Well, yes, but…  Or with Trevor, actually.  Still, “I know, but I’ve never been able to get it inside anybody since…”  Like he had to finish that sentence.  Most of his life was now “I’ve never X since Brian” and “I never Y before Brian.”

        “Good,” Kevin said.  “Chris, I need you to do something.”

        “Don’t you ever fucking hang up on me, white bread.  I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you’re going to find out who I am.”

        “Justin is mine.  I love him, and I am not going to lose him to anyone.  You’d better fucking bring him back here fast, asshole, or I’m coming to get him.  And then I’m coming to get you.”

        “Justin is mine and I love him.  While you’re telling him what an evil bastard I am, why don’t you tell him that?  Why don’t you ask him about it?  Ask him how much I love him.  Ask him how much he loves me.  Ask him why the hell he’d ever leave me when he knows I can’t live without him.”

        “You tell him I did what he said.  You tell him!  Tell him he told me not to hit him anymore, and I didn’t.  We had an agreement!  He can’t just walk out on me!  I fucking changed for him, god damn it, and I don’t fucking change for anybody!”

        “Tell him to answer his phone.  I have to talk to him.”

        Dan had a weird, twisting feeling in his gut.  Those first messages from AJ had been seething with anger, with impotent rage, with frustration and fury.  That last one, that “I have to talk to him,” had sounded different.  Painful.  Broken.  It had been filled with so much heartsick emotion, he almost wanted to tell Justin to call AJ.  It was hard not to respond to that kind of suffering.

        But easing Justin’s suffering was Dan’s first priority.  And after those other, angry calls, he couldn’t advise Justin to go anywhere near AJ.

        Justin came out of the bathroom, grinning at him.  “You look good.”

        “Man, you look good,” Dan corrected him.  It wasn’t the clothes, really; Justin was wearing brand-new but worn-looking jeans and a gray T-shirt.  But it was the way Justin wore his clothes, the way he carried himself, the way he smiled.

        “That is not what Jack did to your hair last night.”  Justin came forward, stepping up to him and touching his hair.

        “Jack wanted me to look sixteen.”

        Justin grinned at him, meeting his eyes before looking back at his hair.  “I’ll bet you looked good at sixteen.”

        “What are you doing?”  Dan wasn’t hyper-protective of his hair, but he thought he’d like to see what the hell Justin was up to.

        “Nothing drastic.”  Justin lowered his hands, smiling.  “You look great.”  Justin’s gaze dipped down before Justin met his eyes again, more serious this time.  “I wanted to thank you for coming up here with me.  You’ve been great.  I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”

        “You would’ve been fine without me,” Dan said, because he believed that Justin was a lot stronger than even Justin realized.  “But I’m glad I’m here.  I’m having a great time.”

        Justin’s hand rested on Dan’s hip.  “So what can I do to return the favor?  What can I do for you?”

        Dan couldn’t help it; he grinned.  “I know you’re serious, but that sounded way too much like a proposition.”

        Justin grinned back, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  “Whatever you want, big boy.”

        Dan laughed, pushing him off.  “I’m getting a free trip to New York with a stay in this penthouse, and you’re getting, what, the pleasure of my company?  I think I’m way ahead in this one.”

        “Yeah, but you’re putting up with me and my boo-hoo I miss AJ breakdowns,” Justin said.  “I think I’m winning.”

        “Then why don’t you get me something to eat, and we’ll call it even,” Dan said.

        Justin snorted.  “You know where the kitchen is.  Get it yourself.”

        Dan laughed.  “Come on, I’ll take you out.  Wherever you want to go.  McDonald’s, Burger King, Taco Bell…”

        That was real laughter.  “Okay,” Justin said.  “Let’s go, big spender.  Just keep in mind, I’m pretty hungry.  I might have to supersize something.”  He caught the look on Dan’s face.  “What?”

        “I like seeing you happy,” Dan said.

        “Yeah,” Justin said.  He shrugged uneasily.  “I miss being happy.”  He shifted, and when his eyes met Dan’s, they were uncertain.  “I have to say, though.  I didn’t expect it, but…  I am happy.  With you.  I know I haven’t been acting like it all of the time, but you make me more happy more often than anyone else, these days.”

        “That’s…”  Dan was surprised to hear that, but it made him feel new warmth in soft places.  “That’s good.  I want you to be happy.”

        Justin grinned.  “So let’s go buy some Happy Meals.”

        Dan grinned back.  “Can I have your toys?”

        Justin led the way out of the bedroom.  “Dan, my man, you can play with my toys anytime.”

        “Hey.”  Brian was taking plates down from the cabinet.  “Breakfast is on me.”

        “Looks good,” Jacob said.  “You can cook?”

        Brian laughed.  “When I feel like it.  Here, take a seat, eat something.”  He turned back to the stove, flipping a pancake.  “Hope you slept okay.  You looked so cute, I didn’t want you to wake you up.”  He turned around again with a teasing grin, eyes sparkling in that completely disarming way, and set a glass of orange juice in front of Jacob.  “What do you want to do today?”

        Jacob realized that he couldn’t answer that question honestly without outing himself.  Maybe it was waking up in Brian’s bed, or maybe it was just prolonged exposure to that bright smile, but he had a happy, gnawing feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with wanting to strip Brian naked and mount him.

        What would happen if he tried it?  The urge to go for it was racing hot and fast through his veins, but what if he went for it and Brian rejected him?  They were so close that Brian wouldn’t break off their entire friendship over it.  Maybe they were so close that Brian would actually be okay with it.  After all, Brian did things with Lance.

        But Jacob didn’t know what, exactly, Brian did with Lance.  Lance had said he’d sucked Brian off, once.  A one-time blowjob wasn’t a hell of a lot in the grand scheme.  But if Brian was willing to do that, maybe he’d be willing to do more, with Jacob.

        Jacob was a lot closer to Brian than Lance was.

        He had to do more research first.  He’d get more information out of Lance.  He couldn’t jump Brian out of the blue.  He’d find out exactly what Lance and Brian did together, and how Brian felt about it.  Then he’d figure out the right way to approach Brian on the subject.

        Until then…  He smiled, because the prospect of spending the day with Brian close at hand made his skin tingle.  “What do you want to do?”

        Everything had seemed fine.  He and Chris had talked for a while, and then they’d started making out, and then they’d gone to the bedroom.  Once they’d gotten naked on the bed, things had gotten hot and heavy, fast.  When Chris’s fingers had started touching him in that special place, he’d been all for it.

        Then Chris had lost his erection.

        It had surprised him, and been a little insulting, but he didn’t freak out, because if (in an imaginary fantasy hell) that ever happened to Trevor (and it never ever ever ever ever ever would) he’d want his partner to take it in stride, not make a big deal of it.  So he kept going, and Chris got hard again, and Trevor got over it.

        And then Chris lost his erection again.

        And then Chris lost his erection again.  The damned thing just wouldn’t stay hard.

        Trevor wasn’t going to get laid at this rate.  He stroked Chris’s hair, opening his eyes.  “You sure you want to do this?”  He figured there were a few explanations.  Either he wasn’t hot enough; or Chris’s body wasn’t, so to speak, up for it; or Chris’s mind wasn’t with the program.  Trevor knew he was plenty freaking hot, so that theory was out.  Chris was older than he was, but not exactly eighty, and besides, Chris had never had any trouble staying hard before.  So it had to be a mental thing.  Okay, what had worked before?  “You want me to give you head?”

        Something flashed through Chris’s eyes, and Chris looked at him, startled.  “You want to?”

        “Sure.”  If it worked, it might soothe his own ego.  And maybe he could get Chris to reciprocate.  Besides, it wasn’t like they had to fuck today.

        “Okay.”  Chris kissed him, pressing him back, on top of him, and he felt Chris getting hard again against his stomach.  He grinned, and Chris rolled over, lying back.  He got on top, kissing Chris’s chest, sliding one hand down.  Oh, yeah, this would work.

        What to do, what to do…

        His body was making the decision for him.  Attention to his dick was attention to his dick, and all systems were full steam ahead.  Trevor was deep into the rhythm of it, and Trevor’s mouth really did feel good, and he’d done what Kevin wanted, so why not treat himself to a nice orgasm?

        But maybe he could go for some bonus points.  Maybe he’d get a little gold star by his name if he went the extra mile.

        It wasn’t that, ahem, hard.  Yes, attention to his dick was attention to his dick, but Chris could go into full-body shutdown on a moment’s notice with one, simple little word.

        Brian.

        He closed his eyes, and remembered that one truly bad day, and his dick softened right there in Trevor’s mouth. Amazing, mind over matter.

        Trevor stuck with it.

        Chris went somewhere else in his mind, and he was there, with Brian, and Brian was saying those…things…to him, and his mind shuddered away from it, his body recoiled, he rebelled, it wasn’t true, it wasn’t like that, he wasn’t, Brian wasn’t.  Just last night they’d made shadow puppets and made sundaes and made love, and then they’d crawled out of bed and watched a movie together, and then they’d taken the sundae toppings back into the bedroom and gotten creative and made a mess all over Brian’s sheets.  And now Brian was making a mess of Chris’s heart.

        It hadn’t been over that day.  He’d stayed.  He’d stayed, and Brian had…  Had…

        Chris curled his hands into fists to resist the urge to kick Trevor the hell out of his bed.  There was no fucking way on this fucking earth that this little shithead fuckface sewer rat had any place on his body or in his bed.

        Trevor lifted his head, one hand stroking Chris’s limp shaft.  There was a question in his eyes.

        Chris put his hands over his face, to cover his rage and pain, to muffle the anger and misery in his voice.  “Stop.  You can stop.”

        Trevor crawled back up, drawing his hands away, kissing his face.  “What’s going on?  Did anything happen?”

        Back to script.  Back to Kevin’s instructions.  He could do this.  This was easier.  Lies were easier than reality.  Doing what he was told was easier than thinking for himself.  God bless Kevin.  Chris took a deep breath, sliding his palm across Trevor’s shoulder.  He really did like the smooth, warm caramel tone of Trevor’s skin.  “I haven’t been with anyone since Kevin.  I’ve tried, it just…  I have trouble.”  He avoided Trevor’s gaze, concentrating on Trevor’s collarbone, running his fingers across it.  “You’re the first person I’ve gotten anywhere with.  Yesterday was a landmark.  I thought maybe I was over it, I thought I could do this, but…”

        “Since Kevin?” Trevor asked.  “It’s been a while.”

        “Yeah.”

        “Everything was okay yesterday,” Trevor said, stroking his side, being so understanding that Chris vaguely wished that this were a real relationship, because if it were, it’d be a good one.  “Maybe you’re just making yourself nervous.”

        “Yeah.  Maybe.”  He ran his fingers up Trevor’s neck, stroking behind Trevor’s earlobe.  He’d loved licking Brian back there.  God, he missed Brian.

        “You don’t have to push it.”  Trevor kissed him lightly.  “Let’s have lunch.  We can worry about this later.”

        Chris remembered something.  He met Trevor’s eyes, touching Trevor’s hip.  “Do you want to…?”

        “Yeah,” Trevor said with a grin.  “Hell, yeah.  But maybe later.”  Another kiss, and Trevor was rolling off of the bed.  “I’m starving, anyway.  What do you have to eat?”

        “Hi.”  Ashley shifted from foot to foot, putting his hands in his pockets.  “Can I come in?”

        “Does Joey know you’re here?” he asked, stepping back to let Ashley enter.  Ashley came inside, and he closed the door.

        “No,” Ashley said, facing him, nervous but putting on a brave front.  “I wanted to talk to you.”

        This might be fun.  Nick kissed him, a long, wet kiss, feeding his hungry mouth.  When Nick pulled back, Ashley was panting, staring into his eyes with shocked desire.  “So talk,” Nick said, and kissed him again.

        Stores catered to Justin like he was the king of a small, fiercely wealthy country.  Security called ahead, and each store was cleared out before Justin got there, so that he could shop without being mobbed.  The salesclerks fluttered around Justin, offering him this, showing him that, so eager to please Dan could tell Justin was asking them for some things just to make them feel useful.  A few times Justin rolled his eyes at Dan behind someone’s head, like, do you believe this?

        But most of it, Justin took in stride.  He was used to this treatment, and he didn’t blink at dropping thousands of dollars on hats.  So far, in addition to the hat store, they’d been to vintage clothing stores, athletic gear stores, the usual array of exclusive millionaires-only stores, and, of course, shoe stores.

        One of Dan’s girlfriends had watched Pretty Woman at least three times a week.  He couldn’t help but think she should be here to watch this spectacle.  Justin on a shopping spree could kick Julia Roberts’ ass.

        Ashley was past words, himself.  The only noises he could make were uncivilized groans and animal cries, mounting in volume with each successive thrust.  He’d never had it this good; he hadn’t realized that it could be this good.  How had he not known, why hadn’t someone told him, how could he have missed the fact that his body could contain this rich, wild pleasure?

        But no, no, god, it couldn’t contain it, it was overwhelming, it was too much, too much, he couldn’t, oh god Nick, oh god Nick, oh god, oh god, his fingers curled and his toes curled and his fucking hair curled and he was coming and he was screaming and he was coming harder and he was screaming louder and maybe this was dying but it was also the purest form of living.

        One of the store employees had been sent out on a Taco Bell run, and now Justin and Dan were sitting on the floor in the dressing room, eating and talking about where Justin wanted to go next.

        When Justin chose to try something on, Dan was the only person he allowed inside the actual dressing room with him.  Apparently Justin didn’t want just anybody seeing him in his underwear, which Dan could understand.  Counting concert quick changes and photo shoots and everything else, they all changed their clothes in front of other people all of the time; and between that and being televised in his drawers on a weekly basis, Dan now had this weird back-and-forth thing between not caring who the hell saw him in his underwear, and craving privacy from strange eyes.

        “We didn’t get anything for you yet,” Justin said.  “You have to tell me what that’s about.”

        “This is your big shopping trip,” Dan said.  “It’s impressive, you’re doing a great job.  I’m just along for the ride.”

        Justin shook his head.  “Come on, you have to get something.  There’s a ton of great shit here,” he said, gesturing to the piles and racks of clothes surrounding them.  “What do you want?”

        “I’m already taking home what I wore yesterday, what I have on now, and whatever I put on tomorrow,” Dan said.  “That’s three top-of-the-line outfits straight from the designer.  I’m more than happy with that.  This is nice stuff.”

        “If you don’t tell me what you want, I’m going to start picking shit myself, and you’ll just have to take whatever I come up with.”

        Dan drew one knee to his chest, deciding to be honest.  “To tell you the truth, I’m just not comfortable with this.  The penthouse, the plane, that’s fine, you were going to do all of that whether I came along or not.  But I’m not trying to spend your money.  I know you have it to spend, it’s not an issue of that.  And I have money of my own, but I don’t want to spend half of it in one week.”

        “I want to do this for you,” Justin said.  “It’s not about me buying stuff for you, it’s about we’re out shopping together, and I want this to be our experience, not my experience.”

        Justin’s expression was earnest, and Dan felt like they understood each other better now.  “If you got me that red shirt over there, I wouldn’t refuse it,” he admitted.

        Justin laughed, that happy laugh Dan loved.  “Now you’re talking.”  He got up, going to the dressing room doors.  “Sandy, we have a new customer.”

        Ignoring him, Nick kissed down his chest, wet and slow, tongue flicking out across his skin, and he was begging more desperately now, his erection hard and demanding, his hips rocking with need.  He just, he wanted, he put one hand down, pushing his fingers through Nick’s hair, and it reminded him of when he’d done this to girls, when they’d been giving him head, and his dick jerked hard at the idea of Nick’s mouth, of Nick’s tongue, of Nick doing that incredible, unbelievable thing to him.

        Nick’s hand circled his dick, closing around it, jacking it in that steady, tight grip that made his whole body hurt from trying not to come.  Nick’s tongue was licking slowly, deliberately across the top of his thigh, and he was shaking, and he tightened his hold on Nick’s hair just because if he didn’t get a grip on something he’d come apart right there on the bed, and-

        -oh good lord holy fuck-

        -Nick’s mouth was on his dick.

        Ashley was tensing, writhing, begging, groaning, struggling not to break free from his own skin.  The feel of, god, the, Nick was, it was, holy fucking, “Nick, Nick, don’t, Jesus, please, god,” and he groaned, loud and desperate, trying not to rip out Nick’s hair but unable to let go.  Nick’s tongue was exploiting all of the right spots, and the suction had him sweating in new places, and he’d never felt anything like this before, he’d never realized his dick could be in anything that made his spine vibrate, he’d never, oh god.  He was going to, so hot, so wet, so fucking, his hips pumped up into the suction, he was fucking Nick’s mouth, Nick was sucking his dick and he was going to explode into a million pieces and every last fucking piece would live for Nick and die for Nick and love Nick forever because this was oh god, oh god, ah, ah, ah, “Nick, Nick, please, god, oh god, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”  He exploded, right there in Nick’s mouth, in a blinding burst of ecstasy that left him gutted, broken, and twitching.

        Oh.  Good.  God.

        Ashley blinked until his eyes figured out how to stay open.  Good freaking fuck.  Was it always supposed to be like that?  If so, maybe some of his former sex partners needed some sort of instruction manual.  Blowjobs for Beginners: Giving Head the Nick Carter Way.

        Jesus.

        Nick was over him again, kissing him, and Ashley moaned, overcome, overstimulated, winding his arms around Nick and sliding his hands greedily down the delicious expanse of Nick’s back.  Nick looked into his eyes, and he felt Nick’s fingers pressing behind his balls, rubbing intimate circles there, shockingly real and shockingly good.  Nick’s eyes were a passionate blue and Nick’s mouth was a passionate red and Nick’s voice was a passionate whisper and when Nick asked, “Can I get in you?” the only thought in Ashley’s head was, “You’re already there.”

        It made shopping for him fun.

        Dan made everything a good time, anyway.  He wasn’t annoyingly perky, he was just consistently in a good mood, like yeah, sure, there were imperfect aspects to life, but there was also a lot of good stuff going on, so why get stressed out over things that weren’t immediately fixable?  Dan knew when to be serious, but he also knew how to make just the right comment in just the right way to get Justin laughing again.

        Justin had never seduced a guy before, but the sight of Dan peeling out of clothes wasn’t all that bad.

        Helping Dan try on clothes gave him excuses to touch - - he tugged this, patted that, checked fabric textures, pushed Dan to turn this way and that.  Dan didn’t seem to mind, and Dan’s body was kind of nice to touch - - not as muscular as Kevin’s, but firm in all of the right places.

        It occurred to Justin that he’d never actually fucked a guy before.  Maybe he’d finally get to see what all of the fuss was about.

        And was that why he’d done it?  So it would affect their sex life?  Had he done it so Erik couldn’t fuck him again?  To keep Howie out?  To prove his allegiance to Nick?  His body was his own; it wasn’t public property for any jackoff with a dick to fuck.  He didn’t want Howie to fuck him, and he didn’t want Erik to fuck him, and now they couldn’t.

        Howie wouldn’t like it.

        Fuck Howie.

        Nick liked it.

        JC was keeping it.

        And if Erik wanted to fuck somebody, he could damn well fuck Howie.  Howie took it from Lance, didn’t he?

        JC wondered how long he could use his piercing as an excuse.  It would take a while to heal.  He could keep Howie and Erik at bay indefinitely.  He’d get laid less, but hell, he’d rather have nothing up his ass than let Erik in there.

        Howie actually was good.  Very good.  Damned good.  And if he couldn’t have Nick, at least he could get Howie.  Except now he couldn’t.

        However…  Now that Erik couldn’t fuck him, maybe Erik would start giving him head.  He’d have to, wouldn’t he?  It would be about damned time.

        This was exactly why JC didn’t go to bed with straight guys.

        “Yeah,” Chris said, and kissed him.  “I’ll call you.”

        “Okay.”  Another kiss, and Trevor left.

        He wondered how many ways Kevin was going to end up coming between them.

        Brian.

        He closed his eyes.

        Brian.

        Brian’s voice whispering into his ear while he fell asleep.

        Brian’s tongue licking into his ear while he drove.

        Brian’s fingers stroking his ears while they talked, while they kissed.

        Brian’s fingers stroking his ears while he sucked on the most important dick in creation.

        He loved Brian’s dick.  He missed Brian’s dick.

        He loved Brian.  He missed Brian.

        Not having any idea of how much time had passed, Chris got up and went to his phone.  He dialed a few times, to listen to Brian’s message, to hear Brian’s voice again.

        Then he dialed Kevin’s number.

        “Hello.”

        “Trevor’s gone.  Can I come over?”

        “You awake?”  Nick’s voice was quiet, warming him like flickering flame on a winter night.

        “Yeah.”

        “Can I turn on the light?”

        Uh…  “Do you have to?”

        Nick stretched away from him, and a lamp clicked on behind Nick, giving Ashley ample opportunity to see his upper body bathed in golden warmth.  Then Nick was close again, brushing gentle fingertips along his cheekbone.  “It’d be a crime to be in the same room with you and not be able to look.”

        God.  Ashley felt himself blushing.

        Nick kissed him, soft kisses, bone-melting brushes of tongue, hands guiding his hips into a slow rocking.  He ground his hips against Nick instinctively, clinging to Nick’s body, sucking on Nick’s tongue.  It was just, he was so, and Nick was stroking a spot between his shoulder blades, that one spot Nick kept touching, so often that now his body was attuned to it.  He had no idea what that was about, but everything Nick did felt good, everything Nick did was right, and by now every time Nick started stroking him there his spine tingled and heat started to prickle outward from right, oh yeah, there.

        Nick stopped kissing him, and their bodies gradually slowed, Ashley’s fingers creeping back through Nick’s hair.  Nick touched his mouth, and Ashley’s lips parted; he licked at Nick’s fingertips, willing, wanting.

        “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

        Hurt?  What?

        Nick’s knuckles skimmed his jaw.  Nick’s eyes were empathetic.  “You were bleeding a little.”

        Oh.  Shit.

        Nick’s touch was caressing across his cheek, down his nose, across his mouth.  “You’re the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen.  I didn’t think guys could be this pretty.”

        He was blushing again, but he said, “I think Joey thinks I’m a girl.”

        Nick smiled.  “Don’t worry about it.  Joey likes girls.”

        Now that he’d brought up the subject of Joey, Ashley wondered how to say what he needed to say.  Except he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say.  Nick’s touch was too tender, too distracting, too, god, he was melting inside his own body.  Nick caressed the hollow of his throat and he shivered, eyes closing, back arching.  Nick licked him there, soft hot strokes of Nick’s tongue, and then Nick started…sucking…  Ashley moaned, hard, ready, wanting.

        Nick’s phone rang.

        “Fuck,” Nick muttered, and then Nick rolled away.  “Hello?”

        Ashley’s eyes opened.  Reality was back.

        “Yeah, hi.  No, nothing’s going on.”  Nick sat up, scratching the back of his head, unconcerned about being naked in bed with his lover’s lover.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Wait, hold on.”  Nick lowered the phone, covering the receiver.  “It’s Joey.  Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”

        “No!” Ashley whispered before he could think about it.  Then his brain caught up.  Should he lie to Joey?  Could he lie to Joey?  Would Nick lie to Joey?  “You’d lie to Joey about this?”

        “I’m not going to lie to him,” Nick said.  “I just won’t tell him unless he asks me about it.”

        This was wrong in a dozen ways.  “I have to go.”

        Nick raised the phone.  “Yeah, so, what?”

        God.  Ashley got out of bed fast.  Pulling on his clothes, he realized that yes, his ass did hurt, and wasn’t that just fucking perfect.  Either he had to find guys with smaller dicks or find guys with less stamina or stop fucking two different men at the same time.  Or maybe he just had to learn to stay the hell away from Nick.  What had he been thinking?  He hadn’t been thinking, he’d been lusting, and now he’d risked his chance at Joey.  For what?  Sex?  He could get sex from Joey!

        Ashley shoved his feet into his shoes and headed for the door.

        “Hold on.  Angel.”

        Ashley turned, but it was safe; Nick was pressing the phone into the pillow.

        “Angel.  Come here,” Nick insisted, reaching out a hand to him, gesturing him closer.

        Ashley sighed, walking back towards the bed.  “What?” he whispered.

        Nick took his hand, tugged him in, and kissed him.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

        Ashley faltered.

        Nick kissed his cheek, then picked up the phone.  “Sorry, what?”

        Confused, Ashley left.

Nick's getting a lot of sex.  Justin's getting a lot of clothes.  JC used to make Nick feel like he could touch infinity.  Chris may be Kevin's love goddess.  Lance is trying to figure out Brian.  Jacob's trying to figure out Brian/Lance.  Brian's trying to figure out where to make the first incision.

matthew@matthewtime.com
"Sucker"
Boyslash
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