Copyright November 24, 2002-February 25, 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 nineteen...

        Besides that, he was creepy.

        And gay as hell.

        They went into Lance’s living room, Jacob taking an armchair, Lance on the sofa across the coffee table.  “This is about Brian?” Lance asked.

        “He just left town,” Jacob said.  He wanted to establish his superior claim.  He knew Brian better than Lance did; he was more a part of Brian’s life than Lance was.

        “Yeah, I know,” Lance said.

        Jacob narrowed his eyes.  Brian had to take off unexpectedly, and he’d stopped to call Lance first?  “Why do you know?”

        “He stopped by on his way to the airport.”

        Liar. Liar.  “For what?” Jacob asked, calling his bluff.

        Lance smiled, his arms stretched out along the sofa back, an ankle over one knee.  “Sex.”

        Fucking bitch.

        Lance tilted his head to one side, still smiling, the bastard.  “Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

        “Yes,” Jacob said.  Yes, damn it, it was.  “Why does he have anything to do with you?”

        “I’m very experienced and I’m very good.”  Lance shrugged, still smiling, fucking creeping Jacob out.  “I know exactly what I’m doing, and exactly how to please him.  I gave him head that one time, and I thought that was going to be it, but when I saw him at the club again, I thought, what the hell.  So I gave him my new number, and we’ve seen each other a few times since then.”

        “What, is he fucking you?”  The idea was so disgusting, and so traitorous to Brian, that it was hard for Jacob to say.

        “No,” Lance said, not even slightly offended by Jacob’s rude tone.  “We talk, I give him head, that’s about it.  He likes me, I like him, we’re friends.”

        “Friends don’t suck dick,” Jacob snapped.

        “I like sucking dick, I’m very good at it, and he likes getting his sucked, especially by me.”

        “You’ll suck anyone’s dick?” Jacob asked, wanting to hurt Lance, because Lance was definitely hurting him, in ways he wasn’t ready to define.

        “Brian likes you,” Lance said.  “He talks about you all of the time.  I have no idea why he thinks you’re starlight on a cloudless night, but he seems to be all about you.”

        “Starlight what?”  That line, they’d just used that line, Brian had given it to him for a song.

        “Starlight on a cloudless night,” Lance said.  “I didn’t get why he wanted to be your new best friend, and he was trying to explain it, and he said something about starlight on a cloudless night.”

        Brian had said that about him?  No one had ever said anything like that about him.  Ever.  He’d never expected anyone to, either, but from Brian…  He was touched.  He felt warm.  It was like a touch from Brian’s hand, even though Brian was miles away today.

        “No, I don’t suck just anyone’s dick,” Lance said.  “I suck Brian’s, because I like him.”

        “You’ll suck mine?”  If Brian was getting it, he wanted it.  He wanted to understand why the hell Brian would waste time with Lance.  If he figured it out, he could change it.

        Lance studied him, still not offended.  “Why would I want to?”

        It was a fair question, but it sounded insulting as hell, so Jacob gave him bitch for bitch.  “You might like it.  You’ll probably love it.”

        “What does this have to do with Brian?” Lance asked.  He lowered his arms from the sofa back, leaning forward.  “You want to be where he’s been.  Fuck whoever he’s fucking.”  Slow, evil grin.  “Does he know you want him?  Does he even know you’re gay?”

        “This is-”

        “Never mind, never mind, it’s okay,” Lance said, waving him back down into his seat.  “I’m not going to tell.  I can even do it for you the way I do it for him, if you want me to.”

        Jacob hated Lance.  “How much do you charge?”

        Lance smiled.  “This one’s free.  I feel sorry for you.”  He stood, stepped right over the coffee table, and sank to his knees.

        He shouldn’t be doing this, he didn’t even want to be doing this, and he was going to hate Lance for the rest of his life.  He’d never let another guy touch him like this, because he’d set up his own code of behavior and this went against everything he’d decided for himself.  Watching Lance’s hands open his fly, slide his hips forward, tug down his pants a little, and pull out his dick, he felt distant from his own body, not really a part of this moment.

        He was already half-hard, and that surprised him; but no matter how much he hated Lance, his body was so starved for the touch of a man’s hand it didn’t care about his emotional state, it just wanted to get personal with whatever Lance was offering.  He watched with a weird sense of unreality, because this couldn’t be happening, but now he could feel the stroke and tug of Lance’s hand, he could feel his body responding, his blood heating up, his muscles tensing, his dick growing stiff and tall in Lance’s fist.

        Lance licked his lips, bent his head; Jacob raised his gaze, looking across to the other side of the room, unwilling to watch, unwilling to admit.  This wasn’t happening.

        This wasn’t happening.

        Lance Bass wasn’t sucking his dick.

        He wasn’t getting head from someone he hated.

        This wasn’t the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

        He wasn’t so hard his dick was straining to fuck Lance’s mouth.

        He wasn’t struggling to hold still, struggling not to moan, struggling not to come this soon.

        Lance didn’t give head better than all of the girls in Jacob’s experience.

        Lance had one hand at the base of his dick, the other hand cupping Jacob’s balls, massaging, and that combined with the steady, rhythmic, tight suction had Jacob fighting to breathe.  His fingers clenched on the arms of the chair, digging in, and he dug his heels in, keeping as still as possible, tension in every line of his body.  Maybe it had been too long since he’d gotten laid, but this felt too good, too intense, too hot.  He was starting to sweat from the stress of refusing to come, refusing to give Lance the satisfaction of bringing an easy orgasm out of him.  Maybe it was illogical, but he hated Lance, and he didn’t want to give Lance the upper hand.  He was the one getting his dick sucked, he should be the one in control, but Lance held all of the cards, all of the power; he was just trying not to give Lance the victory in the first thirty seconds.

        Lance’s tongue had this way of swirling around the head that set Jacob’s blood on fire, and Lance’s fingertips were rubbing that perfect spot just behind his balls, and the suction was just strong enough to pull straight through Jacob’s spine.  Jacob closed his eyes, searching for his own self-control, imagining Brian here, Lance doing this to Brian, Brian’s dick, Brian’s pleasure, the flush of sex in Brian’s cheeks, the glaze of arousal in Brian’s eyes, lashes slipping down, mouth open, lips red, erection hard, really hard, close to coming, the soft male sounds of Brian in ecstasy, gentle Southern moans, and-

        “Oh, ah,” Jacob said, surprised, and came down Lance’s throat.  He opened his eyes, surprised that it was over.  He’d lost his own experience somewhere between imagining what sounds Brian might make, and his own orgasm.  He wasn’t even sure how long that had taken.

        He studied the rest of the room, deliberately not looking down while Lance put him back in his pants.  Lance sat on the coffee table, and Jacob finally met his eyes, defiant, daring him to say anything rude.

        “It’s okay to want Brian.  I want Brian.  I think anyone who doesn’t is blind,” Lance said, as though continuing their conversation, as though the blowjob had been no more than a commercial break.  Back to regular programming.  How could Lance be so fucking casual?  Shallow bastard.  Of course none of this meant anything to Lance.  Since Lance was shallow, self-centered, and immoral, not much would mean anything to him.  “You’re not going to get anywhere, though.  He doesn’t touch guys.”

        “He doesn’t touch you,” Jacob said.  Who would?

        “I’m the only guy he’s ever let go near him,” Lance said.  “He doesn’t touch me.  We don’t kiss.  I don’t know how many men you’ve seduced, but I have my share of experience, and I haven’t gotten anywhere.”

        Jacob didn’t have any experience.

        He was closer to Brian than Lance was.

        He had zero experience.  He’d just had his first and only experience.

        He had experience with women.

        He had no experience with men.

        He and Brian were connected.  Intimately connected.

        He was a fumbling amateur with no idea of what to do with another guy’s dick.

        He and Brian were so close, it would come naturally.

        Brian didn’t do guys, Brian didn’t want guys, and if he wanted to convince Brian to give him a chance, he was going to have to come up with something pretty damned good.

        But not now, not here, not with Lance - - Jacob stood up so fast he got a head rush.  He looked at Lance and didn’t know what to say, couldn’t believe he’d come here, couldn’t believe he’d put himself through that.  He left as fast as his legs could carry him, and broke the speed limit the whole way home.

        Kevin had called him home, and Kevin wasn’t answering his calls.

        Justin called Chris.

        “Kirkpatrick.”

        “I’m home.  Where’s Kevin?”

        “You’re home?” Chris asked.  “Home home?”

        “Here, at my house, yes, home.  Where’s Kevin?”

        “Excuse me, precious butterfly, I have to talk to my friend privately.”

        Justin fidgeted impatiently as seconds passed.

        “Kevin’s in Kentucky.  He left this morning, with Brian.”

        Kevin was gone.  Kevin had left.  This morning.  Kevin had called him home and left before he could get here.  Kevin had left because he was coming.

        When he’d seen those flowers…  Those were their flowers, his and Kevin’s.  Two white roses in a sea of red.  They shared something that no one else could share, something that made them different from everyone else.  They’d always have that.  They’d always know each other, always recognize each other, always share that special thing that marked them as unique.  Kevin had sent him those flowers before.  He’d always come running.

        This time, Kevin hadn’t been here to greet him.  This time, Kevin had left, deliberately, knowingly.

        Kevin was angry.

        Chris was still talking, but Justin couldn’t hear him.  “I have to go,” he said, and hung up.

        He’d rushed home.  He’d jumped on a plane and gotten here as quickly as he could.  He’d left immediately.  He’d thought that Kevin wanted to see him, that Kevin was calling for him, that Kevin…

        They’d gone to the zoo, once.  He and Kevin and Chris and Brian.  They’d gone during hours the zoo wasn’t usually crowded, and they’d had the park closed to all other visitors so they could roam in privacy.  Chris and Brian had taken off, laughing and joking, saying something about the monkeys.  Justin only had agreed to go because he’d thought Chris and Brian would stick around, and realizing that he was now alone with Kevin had made him nervous.  Being alone with Kevin was never a good thing.  He’d figured that out fast.

        But (not that he’d understood it completely at the time) Kevin never did anything in public.  Out in the open, with zoo attendants lurking around every corner and unknown cameras keeping a watchful eye, Kevin was well-behaved, respectable, the perfect gentleman.  They walked around under the warm sun, looking at animals, eating ice cream, signing a few autographs for the zoo employees.  They’d talked, and Kevin’s smile had relaxed every inch of Justin’s spine, and if their thighs brushed while they read the sign detailing the life cycle of a zebra, if Kevin’s fingers stroked his while they watched the lions, if Kevin whispered things like “Come home with me tonight and let me have you” into his ear right in front of the tigers, then that was their business, and no one else’s.

        He’d gone home with Kevin that night.  It had been the first night they’d made love.

        “Yeah, hi, Justin’s back, he’s here in town.  You said to call the second I found out when he was getting back, so, I’m calling.  How’s Brian?”

        Dan knocked on the doorframe, then stepped into the room.  “I got rid of everything.  Justin?”  He walked closer.  “Justin?”

        “The first time he kissed me, I didn’t know what to think.”  Justin’s voice was far away.  “He was a guy, and he was acting like such a bastard, it was more of an insult than a kiss.  I was like, who the hell does this guy think he is?  I told him to fuck off.  He gave me this look, this ‘I’ll let you live for now, because it amuses me to keep you alive look,’ and then he gave me his phone number.”  Justin laughed, a laugh of memory and pain.  “He wrote it on my face.  Scrubbing it off in the bathroom mirror, I ended up memorizing it unintentionally.  It was backwards, the reflection, but later, when I needed to call him, it was right there in my mind.  He’s like that.  You want to reject everything about him, but god, you start to figure out you need everything about him.”

        Dan sat on the bed.  Justin’s face was turned in his direction, but Justin wasn’t looking at him.  “Why did you need to call him?”

        “He knew me.  He saw inside me, into parts of me I never knew existed.  I think he brought them into existence.  No one had ever talked to me like that before, or looked at me like that before.  It was terrifying, and it was compelling.  I started to think that he was the only person who really saw me and really knew me.  I was only comfortable around him, because he was the only person who saw me as myself.  I didn’t have to pretend with him.”

        “Pretend what?  What did he make you think he saw?” Dan asked.  This was serious psychological manipulation, on a complex level.  Who the hell would do this to someone?  Why Justin?

        “He’s the only thing that’s real,” Justin said.  “He’s the only thing that makes me feel real.  I’m alive when I’m with him.”

        “He’s not here now,” Dan said.  “You look pretty real to me.”

        Justin shrugged, turning his hand to look at his own fingers.  “I don’t feel real.”

        What had he been thinking, throwing himself at Nick like that?  This was what he wanted.  This was what really made him happy.

        Joey closed the dishwasher, and Ashley kissed him, a slow dance of lip and tongue, drawing Joey against his body.  When Ashley brought the kiss to a gradual end, opening his eyes, Joey licked his lips.  “Nice.  What was that for?”

        “Nothing,” Ashley said with a smile.  “You load a mean dishwasher, there, Fatone.”

        Joey laughed.  “You should see me with a load of laundry.”

        Ashley kissed him again.

        In a sudden flare of blue, Justin really looked at him for the first time in hours.  “You’d really do whatever I want?  You wouldn’t insist on coming back?”

        “You know what you need better than I do,” Dan said.  “I want to help you, and I think I know what’s best, but I respect your privacy.  This is your life, and even if I want to, I can’t run it for you.”

        Sitting up straight, Justin set aside his phone.  “I want you to come back.  Not in five minutes, you can take as much time as you need to do whatever you feel like doing, but I want you to come back and be with me tonight.”

        “Okay,” Dan said, keeping his gaze locked with Justin’s.  “I’ll come back.  I won’t be long, I’m just going to see the guys, change my drawers, call my mother or something.”  He was still impressed with how well Justin was holding it together, since he’d seen how AJ could break Justin down.  Most of him was confident that he could leave Justin alone and Justin would be fine, but part of him worried about how quickly Justin was capable of deteriorating.

        “Okay.”  Justin took his hand, squeezing it twice, gently.  “Bye.”

        Dan squeezed back, twice.  “Bye.”

        Ashley was no longer his whore; now Ashley was simply a whore.  With that change, Joey’s affection had vanished.  He was tempted to treat Ashley as a whore, and nothing else; fuck Ashley at his own convenience, without bothering to spend any other time with Ashley.  But he had to keep up some kind of pretense of liking the slut, so here he was, being friendly, wasting his time.

        It was hard not to let his contempt show.  Oddly enough, that was most difficult in bed.  But he made the effort to be at least somewhat of a considerate lover, and tended to Ashley’s needs as well as his own.  And if coming on Ashley’s face was a blatant display of his own disgust, Ashley was too busy getting off on it to notice.

        “Dan?!”  Erik came out from the kitchen.  “Dan!”  Dan held out his arms, laughing, and Erik ran to him like a lover.  They swept each other into an exuberant embrace.  “Dan, you’ve come home to us!” Erik cried.

        Still laughing, Dan pushed Erik off of him.  “How’ve you been?  Where is everybody?”

        “Trevor’s not here, which means he’s with Chris, and Ashley’s not here, which means he’s with Joey, and Jacob’s back in his room, but I wouldn’t go back there.  He wants to have a group discussion,” Erik said, raising his eyebrows.

        “He can’t have it without them here, so we’re safe,” Dan said, starting off towards the pool.  “What’ve you been doing?”

        “Getting seriously hard-core laid,” Erik said.  “What about you, running off to the Big Apple with the big JT?”

        “Justin’s going through a few things, and I’m just trying to be there for him.  You’re getting seriously hard-core laid?  What’s that about?” Dan asked, walking around the pool.  “You’re not…  It’s not JC, is it?”

        “It’s JC,” Erik said with a shit-eating grin.  “It’s JC and it’s Howie and I am the man!”

        Dan stopped walking, turning to face Erik.  “You’re getting that involved, with both of them?  At the same time?  JC and Howie?  Are you…  I mean, I knew you were spending a lot of time with them, and I wondered about - - but they’re together, Erik, and you’re straight.  And they’re high-profile people.  How-”

        “Oh my god!” Erik shouted, grabbing Dan’s shoulders.  “You’re turning into Jacob!  Emergency rescue situation!”

        Jacob opened his door.  “Can I help you?  Hey,” he said to Dan.  “Good to see you back.  How was New York?”

        “It was great,” Dan said.    “I see Erik’s matured while I was gone.”  Erik’s phone rang; he hit Dan and moved aside to answer it.

        “Yeah,” Jacob said.  “He’s a whole new man. Come on in, tell me about New York,” he invited.

        “I’d love to,” Dan said.  “I want to.  But I have to get a few things and go.  I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll hang out.”

        Jacob tucked his dreads behind his ear.  “Where are you going?”

        “I’m spending the night with Justin.  He’s going through some things, and I’m just trying to be there for him.”

        “Spending the night,” Jacob repeated.  “He doesn’t have other people who can be there for him?  What about the magical *NSYNC bonds of friendship?”

        “He asked me to come back tonight,” Dan said.  “Like I said, I’m just trying to be there for him.”

        “Yeah,” Jacob said.  “When you have time, the five of us have to talk.”

        “Okay,” Dan said.  “I’m here for it, whenever you want us to get together.  It’s great to see you, we’ll talk tomorrow, tell the guys I said hi.”  He patted Erik on the shoulder.  “I’m going to go find clean drawers.”

        As Dan left, Erik hung up and turned to Jacob.  “Where’s he going?”

        Jacob glared in the direction Dan had gone.  “To fuck Timberlake,” he said, and closed his door in Erik’s face.

        The room was dark.  Candlelight flickered from the corners.  Justin was sweating on expensive sheets, trembling, the fine, fresh cuts on his back already healing.  Kevin was moving through the shadows around the bed, stalking him.

        “You’re mine,” Kevin whispered.  “You’re mine, and I own you.”  No, no, Justin’s mind begged; yes, yes, his soul cried.  “When you gave yourself to me, Justin, you pledged everything you had.  Everything you’d ever have.  It’s all mine.”  Kevin moved out of the darkness, kneeling on the bed, crawling over Justin, his eyes shimmering with possession.  “You’re all mine.”

        Justin wanted to get away, but he was pinned in place by that hot, dark, green gaze.  He couldn’t move, couldn’t even back up, because Kevin didn’t want him to.  He sank down into the pillows, cowed and submitting, as his blood shuddered away from each word.

        “Every,” Kevin put his hand on Justin’s hip, “inch,” his hand slid down Justin’s thigh, firm, owning, “of you,” he pulled Justin’s thigh aside, making Justin that much more open to him, that much more vulnerable, “belongs to me.  Every thought you have,” he leaned in, one hand still gripping Justin’s knee, his face so close Justin held his breath, “is mine.”

        Kevin, Justin wanted to say, but couldn’t.  His voice didn’t work.  His heart wasn’t beating.  He’d come here to say it was over; he’d come to tell Kevin that he wasn’t playing this game anymore.  But this wasn’t a game.  Kevin wasn’t playing.

        This was real.

        Kevin’s hatred was real.

        Kevin’s body was real.

        Justin’s fear was real.

        “Justin,” Kevin whispered, and a chill shivered down Justin’s spine.  Kevin’s mouth was almost close enough to kiss.  Justin’s lips parted, and Kevin whispered his name again, softer.  Justin was panting, scared, desperate, wondering what Kevin was going to do, wondering what Kevin wanted from him.

        “You told me that I was your world, Justin.  You told me that I was the only person you’d ever love.”

        He was, he was, he was the only one, he was the center of everything, and Justin tried to drag enough air into his lungs to be able to say that, to be able to explain.

        “You told me,” Kevin’s voice was dangerous, a sweet blade edged with malice.  “You told me that there would never, never, be a day you’d put anyone else above me.”

        He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, Kevin first, Kevin only, not for a day, not for a second.

        Kevin’s teeth grazed his lower lip.  Justin couldn’t catch his breath.  Kevin’s eyes were burning into his, and he felt like he’d never again see anything else.  “You promised to love me forever, Justin.  And I know you don’t want to break a promise to me.”

        No, never.  He’d be faithful to his promise, he’d keep it sacred, forever.  He would love Kevin forever, until he died, after he died, until the end of time.

        “I own you,” Kevin said.  “You’re my possession.  Like my cars, my plates, my socks.  I own you, and you answer to me.  I own you, and you owe me.  You owe me your obedience, you owe me your love, you owe me your life.  I shouldn’t have to discipline you, Justin.  This is a waste of my time.  You’re a waste of my time.  You’re a waste of air and space and life.”

        The burn of Kevin’s stare and the force of Kevin’s voice had Justin immobile.  Panting softly, he couldn’t react to what Kevin was saying, couldn’t even think enough to agree or disagree.  He stared up into Kevin’s face, letting Kevin’s words echo inside his mind.  You’re a waste.  You owe me.  You’re a waste.  I own you.

        “Justin,” Kevin whispered.

        Yes, Justin tried to say, but couldn’t.  He felt the plea for mercy in his eyes.

        “Justin.”  Quieter now, a hush of breath, and Justin strained to listen, unwilling to miss even a word.  “Justin.”  Soft sibilance.  Kevin lowered his head, breathing it into Justin’s ear.  “Justin.”

        Justin closed his eyes, concentrating every cell in his body on what Kevin wanted to say to him.

        “No one will ever love you, and no one ever has.”

        Justin’s eyes fluttered open.  No.  No, that wasn’t true.  People loved him.  His family.  His mother.  His friends.  His, no, there were people, people loved him, his mother-

        There was a slow shift of every muscle in Kevin’s body as Kevin moved, gradual and deliberate as the shift of a glacier, across to Justin’s other ear.  His fingers pressed into the skin behind Justin’s hip, and Justin’s eyes closed.

        People loved him.  A lot of people.  Not just family, but friends, like the guys, they loved him.  Didn’t they?  What was love, really?  It wasn’t something people could prove, it was just something they felt, and he felt loved, so that meant he was loved.

        Right?

        Wasn’t that how it worked?

        Softer than a whisper, softer than a hiss.  “Especially me.”

        The door opened, and AJ’s eyes narrowed.  “White bread.”

        “I’m here for Justin’s keys.  You’re not welcome at his house anymore, and you can’t walk in any time you want.”

        AJ crossed his arms over his chest, giving Dan a slow once-over.  It had to be an intimidation tactic, but Dan wasn’t falling for it.  He was there to get Justin’s keys, and-

        AJ met his eyes.  “Come in.”

        What?  “I’m here for the keys.  You can give them to me here.”

        “You want the keys, you come inside,” AJ said.

        “You can give them to me here,” Dan repeated firmly.

        “All right.”  AJ stepped back and began to close the door.

        Damn it.  “Fine,” Dan said, stopping the door with one hand.  “I’ll come in.”  He didn’t want to do this on AJ’s terms, but he wasn’t going to feel safe knowing that AJ had access to Justin’s house.  If this got the keys back, and made a point, then fine.  And if not, Justin could just change the locks.  Dan stepped inside AJ’s house, letting the door close behind himself.  “Give me the keys.”

        A quick, informal demand: “What are you going to give me?”

        “Nothing,” Dan said.  “No one owes you a thing.”

        “No one owes me a thing?” AJ repeated.  “No one ones me a thing?  You stole Justin away from me, you turned him against me and got him to dump me and ran off to New York with him and now you’re kicking me out of his house, and nobody owes me a goddamned motherfucking thing?  I love him, you took him away from me, and you don’t owe me anything?  You owe me him!  You owe me Justin, damn it, you owe me all of the love and sex and dancing and everything that he took with him when he left me.”  AJ moved into his space aggressively, storming him, twisting a hand in the front of his shirt, and Dan fought not to react.  AJ’s passion was staggering, the hatred and frustration and pain in his eyes overwhelming.  “You owe me, and I’m not giving you shit.”  AJ was growling, seething, pushing Dan into the wall beside the door.  “Justin is mine, and I want him back.”

        “He’s never coming back,” Dan said.  It was hard to talk to AJ like an equal, hard to refuse AJ, impossible to look at him without feeling the force of his passion.  There was a primal side to AJ, an animal with rippling muscles wanting to break free, power unleashed.  “It’s over.”

        AJ snarled.  “It’s because of you.  We had problems, but we agreed to work on them.  I agreed to stop hitting him, I’m never going to hit him again, and he knew that.  And then you started talking to him, feeding him lies, and all of a sudden he tells me it’s over.  It’s over?  I love him!” AJ shouted.  “It’s not over.  Fuck you.  I’m going to be over there, in his face, every day, proving it.  He’s going to have to go a lot farther than out of state to get rid of me.”

        “You beat Justin, and he left you.  It’s over.  He’s not coming back.  You hit him, you made him feel like shit, you made him feel worthless, you threatened him-”

        “That’s over!  I was going to change, and he knew it!  He fucking knew it!  He wasn’t going to leave me, Justin would never leave me.  Justin’s in love with me, and he knows I’m in love with him, and he would never leave me.  You made him leave me.  You took him away from me, and you’re going to bring him back.”

        Dan could have laughed.  “Bring him back?  I wouldn’t bring Justin anywhere near you!”  He pulled free of AJ’s grip, frowning.  “Now give me the keys so I can go.”  He wasn’t going to be fooled into feeling sorry for AJ; AJ deserved worse than this.

        AJ pushed a finger into Dan’s chest.  “You owe me, Danny boy, and you’re going to pay me.”

        “I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Dan said, not wanting to put up with AJ’s dramatics any longer.  “You’ll find someone else to push around and treat like shit.”

        “There’s no one else like Justin,” AJ snapped.  “Justin’s special.  We had a vibe like nobody else.  You bring him back to me, damn it.  I need him.  I’ve been going crazy without him!  I’ve been climbing the walls, out of my mind, I need him!”

        Dan faltered slightly over the vehemence in AJ’s tone.  He couldn’t give in to this, it would be insane, but he hadn’t expected this kind of emotion.  AJ sounded truly upset about this.  Despite the force of AJ’s delivery, he almost sounded weak.  Certainly he was admitting to weakness, and that struck an odd chord with Dan.

        “You’re going to bring him back to me.”  It was an order, and the command of it was in AJ’s eyes.  “He’s in love with me, and you’re not keeping him in your bed.”

        “Justin didn’t leave you for me,” Dan said.  “Justin left you for himself.  We’re friends.”

        “You want me to believe you’re not fucking him?” AJ demanded.  “Justin loves to be fucked.  His body begs for it.  The way he moves, the way he walks, the way he dances.  He wants it.  I know he wants you to give it to him, it’s all over his face.”

        Dan shook his head.  He was being very careful not to give Justin the wrong idea, and he wasn’t going to discuss that with AJ.  “We’re just friends.  I’m looking out for him.  You’re a threat to his happiness and a threat to his safety.  Now give me the keys and I’ll go.”

        “No.”  AJ stepped back.  “Not a fucking chance.  I’m not giving up more ties to him.”

        “You have no ties to him,” Dan said.  “He’s not yours anymore.”

        “You took him from me!” AJ shouted.

        They were at an impasse.  AJ wasn’t giving up the keys; AJ wasn’t giving up Justin, either.  Dan couldn’t reason with him.  “Justin left you because you were abusive to him,” Dan said, moving for the door.

        “I stopped!” AJ shouted.  “I promised him!  He knew that was over!”

        “That promise came too late,” Dan said, and left.  He’d stick close to Justin for the next few days, and he’d get Justin to change the locks.  AJ wasn’t an abusive lover scorned; AJ was a fiery, violent man in love, and that made him unpredictable.  Dan wasn’t sure if that made AJ less villainous, but it did make the situation more complicated.

        Kevin had noticed that cut, too, and not liked it.  Not liked it at all.  The look in Kevin’s eyes had been worse than the whipping that followed.  He’d never been whipped before then.  The marks had faded by the time he’d had to show anyone his back.  He had no idea how Kevin ensured that.  There had to be some equation, healing time versus the force of each blow, but Justin didn’t have nearly enough experience to calculate it.

        Kevin had released his wrists, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him, fingers pressing in below his jaw while Kevin’s tongue probed the hot secrets of his mouth.  Justin had moaned, feeling his way up over Kevin’s chest, grateful to be here, amazed that he had this in his life.  “Kevin,” he’d whispered, “tell me you love me.”

        Kevin had looked into his eyes.  Kevin’s thumb had rubbed across his mouth, and his breath had stopped in his lungs.  The long fingers of Kevin’s other hand had tugged through the mop of curls he’d had then, and a tiny, tiny smile had quirked Kevin’s lips.

        It had been a smile Justin had never seen before, and never seen since.

        Kevin hadn’t said anything.  His gaze had traveled up to his hand; he’d pulled a curl straight and watched it spring back into place.  Then he’d smiled, a smile Justin knew, the “you’re such a fucking bitch it’s almost funny” smile, and kissed him.

        Thinking back on that moment, Justin realized what a miracle it was he’d lived to remember it.  He wasn’t allowed to make demands, and he absolutely wasn’t allowed to tell Kevin what to do.  Tell me you love me?  He’d been out of his fucking mind!  Walking out of the room with a severe limp would have been getting off easy.

        But that smile.  That tiny, secret smile.  What had Kevin been thinking?  He said “tell me you love me,” and Kevin smiled?  If he didn’t know better, he’d think Kevin had been high on something.

        Off and on since Kevin had taken over his life, Justin had pretended that secretly, Kevin was in love with him, and just couldn’t admit it.  He’d pretended that somewhere deep in Kevin’s soul there was love for him, real love; that Kevin wanted to be with him; that Kevin only treated him like a badly trained animal to hide other feelings.

        Of course that wasn’t remotely true, and he had the scars to prove it.  But sometimes, that fantasy was the only thing between Justin and the abyss.

        Walking into the house, he tried to think of a smooth way to ask, “Wanna get laid?”  Chris had always seemed interested in sex before, so this glitch had to be temporary.  Maybe right now, Chris couldn’t keep it up long enough to fuck him, but he could fuck Chris, couldn’t he?  He didn’t have any experience with other guys, so he wasn’t sure about the etiquette of that, but it made sense to him that he could pick up the slack for a while.

        Chris touched his arm.  “Is Jacob here?”

        “Yeah, looks like it.  He’s probably in his room.  Why?”

        “I want to talk to him.”

        Trevor felt his eyebrows grow up.  “About what?”  Since Chris was in *NSYNC and messing around with him, Jacob wasn’t a major fan.  Chris had to be feeling the lack of love.

        “He’s very subtle, but I picked up on some hints that he might not approve of us hanging out.  Maybe it was the way he did everything except tell me to fuck off, but I thought I detected some resistance.  I thought I could talk to him about it.”

        “Jacob doesn’t pick my friends,” Trevor said.  “We don’t have to clear this with him.”  Considering what Ashley was getting into, if Jacob wanted to run their lives, Trevor wasn’t the place to start.

        “I know, but maybe I can get him to back off.  He’s your friend, you guys live together, I don’t want to make things weird.”

        “You want to do this by yourself?” Trevor asked.  Man, was that a bad idea.

        “Why, do you want to come with me?”

        That would be even worse.  “No, you can get this one,” Trevor said.  He felt like he had to remind Chris, “You don’t have to do this.  I don’t want to say it doesn’t matter what he thinks, but…it doesn’t.”  Jacob was a great guy, but he wasn’t in charge of Trevor’s life.

        “Hey, you’re back,” Erik said, coming into the living room where they were standing.  “Dan’s home.  Not here, right now, but he’s back in town.  And you have to see our new plasma TV.  It’s not up yet, so help me figure out where to put it.”

        “See, you two have a lot to talk about,” Chris said, patting Trevor’s shoulder.  “I’ll just go see Jacob.”

        Erik watched Chris leave the room.  “He’s going to talk to Jacob?”

        “Yeah,” Trevor said.

        “About what?” Erik asked, frowning.

        “Uh…me, I think.”

        Erik snorted.  “Good luck.”

        Not a bad slogan.  Chris was trying out his own variation: If you’re on your way to beating them, but you’re not quite there yet, and you want to kill time, join them.  Or maybe he was really just following another line of thought: know your opponent.

        He wanted to go after Jacob’s ribcage with a baseball bat, but that wasn’t part of the agreement.  Besides, nothing he could do to Jacob would compare with the damage Brian would cause.  And he trusted Lance to get in a few good hits.

        Chris was looking for as many connections to Brian as he could get.  Kevin was his best yet, but that wasn’t enough.

        Jacob was his enemy, his worst enemy, but Jacob was also, in a way, his brother in trauma.  By the end of this, Jacob might be the one person who could understand Chris.

        The one thing Chris wanted, other than Brian, was someone who understood him.  Someone to talk to, commiserate with.  Jacob might be that person.

        Except Chris didn’t want to share Brian.  And the idea of sharing Brian with Jacob, of all people, made him want to be violently ill.  Jacob was so unworthy, Chris couldn’t fathom anyone more unfit to breathe in Brian’s presence.

        Regardless of everything else, Jacob was a link to Brian.  Jacob was seeing more of Brian than anyone else was these days.  Jacob and Brian shared experiences.  Had conversations.  Jacob was around Brian for hours, for days.  They were about to become physically intimate.

        It made him want to skin Jacob alive.  But he couldn’t do that.  So he’d be close to Jacob, instead.  Be close.  Be friends.  He’d get Jacob to confide in him, if he could.  An impossible task, but he had to do it.  It would bring him that much closer to Brian.  Brian was all the reason he ever needed.

        He knocked on Jacob’s door.

        “Come in.”

        Chris turned the knob, opening the door.  Jacob was sitting on the floor, tapping a pen against a notebook, projecting an air of frustration.  “Hey,” Chris said.

        Jacob was surprised to see him, and wary.  Suspicious.  “Hey,” he said, his voice slow and guarded.

        Since technically Jacob had said “Come in,” which was a direct invitation, Chris entered the room.  “Nice little place you have here.”

        “Yeah,” Jacob said.  “Thanks.”  His guard was up, way up, and ten feet thick.  “Did you want something?”

        Direct.  Good.  “I wanted to talk to you,” Chris said.  “I don’t have to like you, and you don’t have to like me.  We never have to deal with each other at all.  But we’re both dealing with Trevor, and if you have a problem with me and that’s affecting him, I want to know what I can do about it.  If there’s something going on, let’s take care of it.”

        Jacob got to his feet, facing Chris directly.  His expression was a challenge, and so was his tone.  “What are you doing here?  What do you want from him?”

        “We’re friends,” Chris said.  “We’re more than friends, but we’re not boyfriends.  I’m not ready to have a boyfriend yet,” he admitted.  “But Trevor’s a good guy, he’s a lot of fun.  He actually thinks I’m funny, I think he’s practically perfect.  We have a great time together, and we’re really getting close.  I don’t want a lot from him, mostly his friendship.”

        “Trevor can be friends with anyone he wants, on his own time,” Jacob said.  “But his time isn’t just his time anymore, it’s our time.  We’re a group, and what one of us does affects everybody else.  When he gets caught with you somewhere, that’s not just his ass on the line, it’s all five of us.  I don’t care how discreet you think you can be, someone’s going to find out, and then what are you going to do?”

        “You want Trevor to ignore his own sexuality for the rest of his life?” Chris asked, to see what Jacob would say.

        “He should be able to make sacrifices for his music,” Jacob said.

        Damn.  Jacob was a bitchy little fuck, but that was the right answer.  Chris hadn’t expected that.  “I don’t want to get caught,” he said.  “I have just as much to lose as anyone else does.”  More, actually, or less, depending on the perspective.  “It’s worth it, to me.  It’s worth it to Trevor.  I don’t run around telling everybody this, but he’s really special, and I’m not ready to give him up right now.  I also don’t want there to be any problems between the two of you, so what can I do here?”

        “If he’s special,” Jacob said, “you’d respect him enough not to risk his career, and you’d back off.”

        Chris grinned, despite himself.  “You’re good.”

        “You’re not going to listen to me, though,” Jacob said.

        “No,” Chris admitted.  “I’m not.  I know that you’re looking out for Trevor, and I respect it.  I just can’t let him go right now.  But I don’t want you to think that I run around picking up and discarding boy toys.  I’m taking this seriously.  I wouldn’t put my own career at risk, or his, for something I wasn’t serious about.”

        Jacob shrugged.  “That’s up to you.  I can’t stop you.”

        Still a bitchy little fuck.  “You’re determined not to get along with me.”

        “What I know of you, and the people you hang out with, isn’t good,” Jacob said.  “The people I do get along with tend to have morals, ethics, a little talent, and even something interesting to say.  I haven’t seen any of that in you or your friends.”

        “The civil part of this conversation must be over,” Chris said.

        “You said we don’t have to like each other,” Jacob said.  “I didn’t like you before I had your permission, and now that I have it, I still don’t like you.  I like you less, because you came in here playing let’s be friends, trying to get me to back off.  I don’t back off.  You’re going to fuck Trevor over, and you’re going to fuck over all of us when you fuck over him.  I’m not going to support your friendship.”  The way Jacob said “friendship,” Chris was mowed down by the sarcasm train.  “I don’t know why he’s hanging out with you, I don’t know what he sees in you, and I have no fucking clue why he’d want you.”

        Bitchy little fuck.  “Can we go back to the part where I have no morals, no ethics, and bad friends?”  If he walked away now, he’d lose his chance to talk to Jacob in the future.  If they kept talking, either he’d make Jacob hate him even more, or they’d come to an understanding.  Either way, he had nothing to lose.  “Was that just a lucky guess, or did someone tell you about that thing in eighth grade with Mary Beth Risser and the glue bottle?”

        Jacob glared at him.  He might have been vaguely disturbed by it, if he hadn’t had a great deal of exposure to Kevin lately.  Kevin was the master glarer.  It wasn’t all about the eyebrows, either; it was about the “I would rip off your leg and beat you to death with it, if it weren’t for the inconvenience to me” set to Kevin’s mouth accompanying the glare.  “You don’t take anything seriously.  How do you expect me to believe you take Trevor seriously, if you don’t care about anything else?”

        This really wasn’t going well.  Chris was having serious doubts about the possibility of ever holding a friendly conversation with Jacob.  It wasn’t that Jacob didn’t have good points, because technically he did.  It was just that Jacob was defensive and antagonistic and downright unlikable.

        He and Jacob had several things in common.  Music, Trevor, Brian…  Jacob didn’t want to relate to him musically, since Jacob hated being heir to the *NSYNC legacy.  They weren’t supposed to have Brian in common, and he didn’t want to seem to eager to discuss Brian right away.  They did share an interest in Trevor.  Chris genuinely liked Trevor, despite his mixed, confused feelings on the subject; and Jacob truly seemed to have honest regard for Trevor, behind his aggressively overprotective stance.  But since Trevor was the root of their current argument, Chris couldn’t think of a way to bond with Jacob through Trevor.

        Which left Chris back at zero.

        “What do you take seriously?” he asked, to keep Jacob talking while he searched for common ground.

        “My family, my music, God, my friends,” Jacob said.  “The normal things that should be important to everybody.”

        Ah.  “Is that a Gibson?” Chris asked, gesturing to the guitar on a stand by the bed.

        “Yeah,” Jacob said, defensive, irritated.

        “Looks good,” Chris said, stepping closer to it.  “Maui Wowie, Hawaiian Koa?”

        “Yeah,” Jacob said, suspicious now, drawn in despite himself, moving closer both to the guitar and to Chris.  “You know acoustics?”

        “A little.”  He’d done a fair amount of research to know what to buy Brian.  He never would have picked up this piece of shit.  “How’s it play?”

        “Good sound,” Jacob said.  “I thought it was better, until I went over to Brian’s house and saw what he’s playing.  He has some serious equipment.”

        Jacob didn’t want to talk to him, but was too starry-eyed enthusiastic about Brian to keep quiet.  Chris couldn’t believe this asshole had been in Brian’s house.  It was offensive and painful and damn, he wanted Brian to make Jacob pay, but at the same time he was jealous, because he didn’t know any of Brian’s other victims, but now he would, and that made him just another face in the crowd.  He didn’t want to be the same as Jacob in Brian’s eyes; he wanted to be different, special, Brian’s pet.  How could Brian put the two of them on the same level?  Didn’t he mean anything?

        Of course he didn’t mean anything.  Not to Brian.  He was a dusty toy Brian had outgrown, an old pet Brian had abandoned.

        “I heard he has a decent collection,” Chris said.  Jacob started talking, and Chris made encouraging noises and appropriate comments, and Jacob kept talking, and Chris wondered if he could beat Jacob to death with the damned guitar and still make it look like an accident.

        Later, Kevin had given him other scars.  There was a tiny notch on the inside of each wrist.  There was a mark in the bend of his right elbow.  And there was a faint line crossing his right ankle bone.  They weren’t obvious scars.  He had a reasonable explanation for each one, in case anyone asked, not that anyone ever did.

        Justin was obsessive about them.  He stroked them constantly when he was alone.  He licked them until his tongue went numb.  The one inside his elbow, he’d picked at deliberately to guarantee it wouldn’t heal smoothly.  Each of the four came with a clear, strong memory that he relived inside his mind.  With memories came nightmares, but Justin couldn’t forget.  His body was marked so that he couldn’t forget.  When it came right down to it, he didn’t want to forget.  Forgetting would mean losing what little of Kevin he had left.

        The tattoo was a permanent reminder.  Not disfiguring, like a scar; it was Kevin’s stamp on his body.  His pubic hair covered it, but he knew it was there.  Kevin had shaved him.  Not everything, just one bald patch.  He’d asked why, and Kevin had said, “You’re getting a tattoo.”  He’d resisted, because Kevin’s idea of an appropriate tattoo had to run along the lines of “cunt” or a picture of a vagina right there beside his dick.  Kevin had talked to him until he was willing to do anything Kevin wanted, and then Kevin had taken him to the tattoo parlor.  He’d stayed there on the chair with his eyes closed, not looking, while Kevin told the artist what to do.  He’d been deliberately not listening, but he’d heard them mention the letter B, and he’d thought, god, Kevin was permanently labeling him a bitch.  He’d spent the whole time talking himself out of running for the door.

        Later, in Kevin’s bedroom, Kevin made him look at it.  He hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been two simple letters.  BA.  It was an attractive black script, flourishing and detailed but not too extremely feminine.  He’d had no idea what it meant, and he’d looked to Kevin for an explanation.

        Kevin had kissed him.  “It’s not your body, it’s mine,” Kevin had said, looking into his eyes.  “I can do whatever I want with it.  You don’t understand anything, so you don’t have to understand this.”

        It was a long time later that Justin discovered that the other guys had tattoos, too.  JC had been talking about Nick, and Lance had said something, a muttered comment under his breath, and Joey had asked, sharply, “What?”  That had led to a flustered, halting conversation with rushed confessions and embarrassed admissions, until finally they’d all realized what had really happened.  Justin’s BA made sense, taken in the context of Chris’s CK, Joey’s ST, Lance’s RE, and JC’s ET.  They’d been marked as Backstreet property.  All five of them, in the same place.  Justin assumed that they’d been marked in chronological order, except Chris had done it first, and he’d been tattooed second.  Then JC realized that his own ET was the last fifth of Backstreet, just like his C was the last fifth of *NSYNC.  Lined up to spell *NSYNC, from Justin for the first N down through JC, they also spelled Backstreet.

        It had been humiliating.  And incredibly arrogant on the part of the Boys, to assume that once the process began, all five of them would give in to it.  Except they all had gone through with it.  They’d done it.  They’d let themselves be tattooed, without even understanding why.  Brian had talked Chris into doing it because the letters CK were Chris’s initials, but when Chris realized that it wasn’t about that at all, it was about his humiliation again, he’d been devastated.

        They’d asked Chris why he’d never told them he’d gotten the tattoo, since he’d thought it was simply his initials.  He’d said that he’d thought about it, but he’d promised Brian that it would be their little secret, a sexy private thing just between the two of them.

        Justin loved his tattoo.  Hated it, wanted to get rid of it, had tried to claw it off of his skin, had been seconds away from gouging it out of his flesh with a knife.  But it was a mark of Kevin, a property stamp, a sign that once he’d been Kevin’s, that he’d be Kevin’s forever.  He wanted Kevin to look at the word Backstreet and see him there in those first two letters.  Him, his obedience, his love, everything they’d meant to each other.

        But then he had to wonder whether Kevin thought of him at all.  And when he did cross Kevin’s mind, was it his love that Kevin remembered?  Was it his body?  Was it his fear and obedience?  Was it his rebellion and disobedience?  Was it his submission, his cowardice, his tears?  Did Kevin have any good thoughts about him, any fond memories, or was it all scorn and disgust?

        Kevin hated him.

        In Kevin’s eyes, the only eyes that truly mattered, he was disgusting, miserable, pathetic, useless, worthless slime.

        “Why would I want you back?” Kevin had asked.  “You’re a lot of trouble, and you’re not worth it.”

        Kevin hated him.

        Kevin was right to hate him.  No one who really knew him could ever like him.  No one would ever love him.  He didn’t deserve to be loved.  He deserved to be hated.  All of those girlfriends who’d cheated on him and used him, they’d been doing the right thing.  He deserved it.  Kevin knew, Kevin had seen it right away, Kevin had known all along.  They all knew.  They all saw it.  People betrayed him and manipulated him because he didn’t deserve any better.

        The doorbell chimed.

        It wasn’t Kevin, he knew that.  It was someone who wanted something from him.  Someone who wanted to take from him, use him.  That was what he was here for.  He got up from the bed and went to the front door, opening it.

        Big blue eyes, wide smile.  “Hey, Justin.  I brought clean drawers and Taco Bell.  We’re set for life.”

        Dan.  Something new twisted painfully inside Justin’s heart.  Dan was generous, and selfless, and loyal.  Dan liked him, and Dan wanted to help him, and Dan didn’t want anything from him.  Not money or sex or anything.  Dan was…  “The center of my universe,” Justin said, reaching out and fisting his hand in the front of Dan’s shirt, drawing Dan closer.

        “Are you okay?” Dan asked, immediately concerned, dropping his duffle bag and unclenching Justin’s fist.  “Did AJ call here?” he asked, nudging the door shut, the bag of food and tray of drinks still balanced in one hand.

        Dan was weak.  Too weak.  Too good.  Strong, but not hard.  Justin could break him.  “Lieutenant Dan,” he said, gazing into Dan’s eyes, lacing their fingers.  Big, beautiful blue eyes, full of color, ringed with a fringe of long, black lashes.  Striking eyes, full of confidence, always focused, bright, alive.  “I think I love you.”

        “I love you, too, man, and I think you need to eat something,” Dan said.  “Let’s sit down somewhere before I drop this.”

        He wanted Dan to save him.  He wanted Dan to rescue him and let him live happily ever after.  He knew it wouldn’t happen; Dan wouldn’t make it.  But Dan would try, Dan would do his damnedest, and that still counted for something.

        It sucked that Dan was back in town, but not at the house, because Trevor wanted to talk to him.  Being in New York with Justin Timberlake had to be an experience.  Hell, being in a mud puddle with Justin Timberlake had to be an experience.

        When Trevor realized that he’d been talking to Erik for over two hours, he realized that Chris had been talking to Jacob for over two hours.  Weird, that was definitely weird.  He went to find out what the hell was going on.  They couldn’t be bonding.  Maybe Jacob had killed Chris and was spending time trying to hide the body.

        Jacob’s door was open, and as Trevor got closer, he heard the low murmur of voices.  Conversation, okay, that had to be a good sign.  Reaching the doorway, he heard a sudden burst of mutual laughter; looking in, he saw Jacob and Chris sitting on the floor by the foot of Jacob’s bed.  “Don’t tell me you’re getting along.”

        They looked over at him, still grinning.  “Not really,” Jacob said.

        “I’m an amoral asshole,” Chris explained.

        “And I’m an antagonistic asshole,” Jacob said.

        “But we have a lot in common,” Chris said.

        “We’re both assholes,” Jacob said.

        Trevor narrowed his eyes, suspicious.  “Are you drunk?”

        Jacob laughed.  “No.  We’re practicing being civil to each other for your sake.”

        “I explained to Jacob that if he really wants to be a good friend to you, and not your keeper, then he has to pretend to support all of your decisions, even the crappy ones,” Chris said.  “So we’re pretending to be nice to each other.”

        Chris was so weird he dragged other people into his weirdness.  Trevor was impressed.  “Can I break this up, or do you want to keep pretending?”

        “Go ahead,” Jacob said to Chris.

        “Okay,” Chris said, getting up.  “We’ll hang later.”

        “Can’t wait for it,” Jacob said.  When Chris’s back was turned, he raised his eyebrows at Trevor.  Trevor grinned back.

        “Okay, I’m done here, for now,” Chris said, joining Trevor by the door.  “Let’s go have sex.”

        Trevor closed the door quickly.  “I love that whole uncensored thing you have going on, but-”  It clicked.  “Sex?”

        “Right, sex, the thing with the thrusting,” Chris said.  “I was thinking we could do it in your bedroom, but-”

        There was something about being asked for it like that, no hinting, no signals, just the words, that pushed all of Trevor’s buttons.  “My room’s fine, my room’s great,” he said, heading off in that direction, dragging Chris along by the hand.

        “No, the pool’s fine,” Chris said.  “We could do it in the pool, although I wouldn’t want to drown, because that might ruin the mood.  We could…”  He talked the whole way up to Trevor’s room, comparing sex on a bed to sex in a pool, until Trevor pushed him onto the bed and kissed him.  Breathless, Chris said, “Okay, here’s good,” and kissed him back.

        “You said you hated all of those curls, and you’d rather go permanently bald than grow them back,” Dan said.

        “Yeah, but everybody loved it,” Justin said.

        “People aren’t pointing and staring and yelling ‘You ugly horrible beast!’ when you walk down the street,” Dan said.  “I think they like your hair this way, too.”

        Justin grinned.  “Oh, that was you they were yelling at?”

        Dan laughed.  “Yeah, that was me.  I’m used to it.  Hardly even notice it anymore.”

        Justin snickered.

        Dan changed the channel a few more times.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Justin’s hand creeping upward again.  Just before it reached Justin’s head, he snatched it back down.  “Okay, what?  You think AJ would have treated you better if you had a big curly ’fro?”

        Justin had the nerve to look surprised.  “I’m that damned obvious?”

        “Yeah, you are,” Dan said, letting go.

        “A lot of people loved my hair,” Justin said.

        “A lot of people loved you,” Dan said.  “They still do.”

        “Did you like it?” Justin asked.

        “Yeah,” Dan said.  “I thought it looked great.  But you always look great, so I say, do what you want, not what you think other people might want.”

        “It was more high-maintenance than I wanted,” Justin said.  “You know, some people thought it was my trademark, and if I ever mentioned cutting it off they’d be all no, no, you can’t, don’t ever joke about that.  But I was like, forget it, it’s my hair, it’s my life, I’m tired of it, just get rid of it.  So we shaved it all off, and thank god my head wasn’t a funny shape under there.”

        “Girls cried,” Dan said.

        “Girls wept,” Justin agreed.  “Record sales indicate that most of them got over it.”

        “It was a rite of passage thing,” Dan said.  “It was a sign that you’re an adult now, and you can do what you want.  So don’t grow it all back just in case AJ or anybody else might like you better with different hair.  If the way your hair looks really made that big of a difference, would I be friends with Jacob?”

        Justin laughed.  “Okay.  You made your point.”

        Dan changed a few more channels.

        “I had a girlfriend,” Justin said.  “She had this habit.  She’d go through my hair, pulling the curls straight, watching them spring back.  Not every night, but I’d wake up and she’d be doing it, and I’d be like, has she been doing this all night?”  He shifted, pulling his legs up.  “We didn’t even get along that well, she didn’t like me most of the time, but she had this weird thing for my hair, I think.  I don’t want to call it a fascination, but…”

        “She didn’t even like you?” Dan asked.

        “I told you all of my relationships sucked,” Justin reminded him.

        “Yeah, but she didn’t even like you,” Dan said.  “Why be with somebody you don’t even like?”

        “Hell if I know.  She seemed to like the sex.”

        Dan looked at Justin.  “Maybe you’re too perfect.”

        “What?”  Justin looked surprised by that statement.

        “There are a lot of good people out there.  But maybe they don’t think they’re good enough for you, so they don’t approach you as much.  Bitches and assholes don’t have the sense to realize they’re not good enough for you, or they know it but can’t admit it, so they’re all over you.  That’s why you keep ending up with them, and don’t think there’s anybody good out there.  They’re out there, they’re just intimidated by how great you are.”

        “I’m not that great,” Justin said.

        “Yeah, but they don’t realize that,” Dan said, grinning.

        Justin laughed.  “You’re on to me, though, right?”

        Dan laughed, giving in.  “I can’t even fake it.  You’re perfect, I know you’re perfect, you have great cars and you’re a great dancer and you have a great body and you have every PS2 game ever created and you’re good at everything you do and you look like that.  If anybody can be perfect, I’d say you are.”

        “So it’s the cars,” Justin said.

        “And the body.  I have to start working out more.  I’m falling way behind here.  No wonder I can’t get a date.”

        Justin gave a surprised laugh.  “You can’t get a date?  I can’t see anybody turning you down.  ‘Sorry, no, I don’t date gorgeous guys, I have to walk the dog.’”

        Dan snorted.  “If they thought I was gorgeous, I’d be happier about it.”

        Justin turned more towards him.  “If they’re looking at what I’m looking at, they think you’re gorgeous.”

        Dan sat up straighter, looking away from Justin’s eyes, feeling heat rush into his cheeks.  “You must be looking at the wrong thing.”

        “You own mirrors, I’ve seen them in your house,” Justin said.  “There’s one in the bathroom, there’s-”

        “I’m not saying I’m the hunchback,” Dan said.  “I’m not Ashley, either.”

        Justin snorted.  “You can’t compare yourself to Ashley.  You can’t compare anybody to Ashley.  Nobody really looks like that.  He’s a genetic mutation.”

        Dan grinned.  “I think he was bred in a lab somewhere.”

        “Tell me the truth.  Just between us.”  Justin leaned closer, lowering his voice.  “His real name’s Egbert Arthur Hugespittle, isn’t it?”

        “No,” Dan said, lowering his voice to match.  “It’s Hubert Herbert Tinydick.  But you can’t tell anyone, or agents from the secret lab where he was born will come for you at night.”

        Justin grinned.  “I knew it.”

        “Can I stay here tonight?” Dan asked.  “In case the secret lab agents are after me now?”

        Justin patted his knee, sitting back.  “Sure.  If crazy fans can’t break into my house, you know there’s no way secret agents can get in here.”

        But by some freak of nature, Trevor had just had bad sex.  It had felt good, because he’d had his dick in Chris’s ass, and the feeling of all of that tight muscle clamping down on him all hot and lubed, coupled with the realization that he was balls deep up Chris Kirkpatrick’s ass, had just about brought on orgasm right then and there.

        He liked Chris, he wanted Chris, he loved Chris, he wanted to be Chris, he couldn’t be more all about Chris if he had “I love Chris” threaded into his DNA.

        Chris, apparently, wasn’t that enthusiastic about him after all, because Chris hadn’t been hard.  Chris had gone soft right when he’d gone in, and while trying not to come he’d been worried about it, but Chris had said it was okay, that was the way it went, he’d get hard again in a minute.  So Trevor had kept going, doing his thing, finding his stroke, picking up the rhythm.  But Chris had still been soft.  He’d started jacking it, but it hadn’t gotten more than halfway there.  They’d been fucking and kissing and touching and the whole nine, but Chris’s dick hadn’t really responded to any of it.  Finally, Trevor hadn’t been able to hold it back anymore, and he’d come.

        He’d felt like shit, because he always did his best to make women come.  He was ninety-nine percent sure they actually did come, and if they didn’t really, at least they faked it so he could feel good.  Chris couldn’t even fake it, so Trevor couldn’t fool himself into thinking he was a major stud.  Either he wasn’t as good at sex as he’d thought, or else he just wasn’t any good at sex with guys.  He’d given Chris head to make up for it, and at least then Chris finally had gotten hard and reached orgasm.

        Trevor wasn’t going to fuck Chris again, until they took care of this problem.  Fucking someone who acted receptive to it but didn’t show the one undeniable sign of arousal was like fucking someone who wasn’t into it at all.  No matter what Chris’s mouth said, Chris’s body was sending clear signals.

        He had to get Chris to talk to Kevin.  They had to do something about this.  He didn’t want to break up.  Not that they were boyfriends, but whatever this was, he didn’t want to have to back off of it.  He really liked being with Chris, and already Chris was one of the best friends he’d ever had, but even friendship wasn’t enough.  He was sexually attracted to Chris, he got a serious sexual charge from Chris, and he’d just fucked Chris.  He’d finally had sex with a man, real sex with a real man, and he had to do it again, as soon as possible.  That meant he had to get Chris back in business.  That meant he had to take care of this Kevin roadblock.

        He was tucked in against Chris, his head on Chris’s chest, his fingers stroking the hair on Chris’s thigh, when he felt Chris’s hand in his hair.  “I’m sorry I’m fucking up your sex life.”

        “You’re not.”  That was a lie, because Chris was fucking up his sex life, but he didn’t want Chris to think that.  He figured anybody who couldn’t even stay hard, and sometimes couldn’t even get hard in the first place, already felt crappy enough, without him throwing around guilt and blame.  “It’s okay.”

        Chris didn’t say anything, just stroked his temple for a minute.  Trevor had no idea what time it was.  It seemed early, but he felt tired, and he thought he might just fall asleep.

        “Can I stay here tonight?”

        It sucked that Chris had to ask.  “Yeah, of course.  I want you to.”  Trevor raised his head, pulling himself up closer, and kissed Chris, licking a little.  “You know we’re still cool.”

        “Still cool,” Chris repeated, and kissed him.  “Cool like cucumbers.  Cool like ice cubes.”

        “Cool like snow cones and ice cream,” Trevor agreed.

        “Cool like ski slopes and igloos,” Chris said.

        “Cool like penguins and polar bears,” Trevor said, getting comfortable against him, tugging the covers up over them.

        “Cool like reindeer and icebergs.”

        This could go on forever.  He kissed Chris, letting his hands wander.  Chris kissed him back, guiding his hips closer, and Trevor wondered if this was how Chris kissed Kevin.

        Chris had been in bed with Kevin.  Made out with Kevin, had sex with Kevin.  Trevor pulled back just enough to look at Chris’s face.  Chris had done these things with Kevin.  He was where Kevin had once been.

        No matter what kind of mac vibe he laid down, he’d never be Kevin.  No matter how good his game was, he’d never be Kevin.  Kevin didn’t even have game, Kevin was just Kevin, and that was enough.  He’d bet his whole right arm that Chris had never lost a hard-on with Kevin.

        And now he was where Kevin once had been.  He was all over Kevin’s former lover.  His hands, his mouth, his dick were right where Kevin’s had been.

        He’d just had his dick in the same place Kevin had used to put his dick.

        God, no, he couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t turn Chris into Kevin’s Former Lover, some kind of weird fantasy object.  Chris was Chris, a real person, someone he was really into.  If he let himself think like this, he’d be fucking a fantasy, a thing, and not really Chris at all.  He tried not to disassociate during sex, because women hated it, and he didn’t think Chris would like it any better.

        “You’re having weird thoughts,” Chris said.  “That’s okay, go ahead and have any thoughts you want, but the ‘oh my god you’re an alien’ stare is a little unnerving.”

        “Sorry,” Trevor said, clearing his expression.  “I just…  It’s nothing.”

        “Okay,” Chris said, seeming to mean it, seeming to dismiss the moment entirely.  And that was another reason he loved Chris.  “So,” brief kiss, again, another, “I’m going to sleep.  Good night.”

        Trevor kissed Chris, closing his eyes.  “Good night.”  He found a comfortable place to put his right hand, hooked his left foot behind Chris’s calf, and went to sleep.

        He couldn’t shake the suspicion that Justin felt sexually attracted to him.  He could excuse some of the moves Justin had made as being a product of Justin’s loneliness and misery, not actual attraction.  But the way Justin looked at him, some of the things Justin said - - telling him he was gorgeous was a little too close to hitting on him.

        It was very possible, even likely, that Justin was attracted to him out of gratitude.  Justin had just broken up with AJ, and obviously felt vulnerable, and he was Justin’s strongest source of support.  They were together all of the time, they were alone a lot, he was nice and Justin was lonely - - it was natural that Justin would feel drawn to him, even sexually.

        But he didn’t think that there was anything more serious behind it.  They were friends, and he wanted to remain Justin’s friend, but he didn’t believe that Justin really wanted more than that.  Not really.  Dan didn’t doubt himself; he believed he’d be a great boyfriend to anyone.  But Justin wasn’t exactly in his league, even if he were gay.  And since he wasn’t gay, and Justin knew that, he didn’t think Justin was planning to attempt a romantic relationship with him.

        “What do you want from me?”

        Dan frowned at the back of Justin’s head in the dark room.  “What?”

        “What do you want from me?” Justin repeated.  His tone wasn’t accusatory, simply curious.  Confused.

        “I want you to have your locks changed, first thing tomorrow,” Dan said.  “I want you to take care of yourself and look out for yourself.  I want you to be safe, and happy.  And healthy.”

        A pause.  “That’s all?” Justin asked, like that couldn’t be right.

        “That’s all,” Dan said.  “What do you want from me?”

        “I don’t think you want to know,” Justin said.

        “Ask for one thing, and see how it goes,” Dan suggested.

        “Hold me tighter.”

        Justin.  Dan tightened the circle of his arms, wrapping Justin up closer.  “Is that better?”

        Justin sighed, a soft sound, relaxing against Dan’s chest.  “Yeah.”

        Dan closed his eyes, careful not to loosen his hold as he neared sleep.

        “Change the locks tomorrow?” Justin asked.

        “And any security codes,” Dan said.

        “Okay.”

        Good.  They’d render AJ’s keys useless.  They’d render AJ useless, and powerless, just the way he’d made Justin feel; and they’d give Justin the upper hand, the place of comfort and security.  Turnabout was fair play.

matthew@matthewtime.com
"Sucker"
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