"Sucker"

Sucker

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Backstreet Boys/*NSYNC/O-Town

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

Dedication: I would like to thank Diamond, for her enthusiasm.

Continued from part five...

Kevin. Was. Fucking. Awesome.

Trevor couldn’t believe he was hanging out with Kevin Richardson. Kevin, Kevin, The Kevin. His Kevin, the one he’d always admired, the one he’d looked up to for all of those years. Kevin had been his idol. He’d wanted to be just like Kevin; and even when he’d realized he wasn’t like Kevin, he’d still looked up to Kevin as the masculine ideal. Wasn’t Kevin what every man should be? Strong, grounded, ethical. The backbone. Dependable. Proud.

Kevin wasn’t all about sheer will. He was also fun. He smiled, and he laughed, and he teased. Once he was relaxed, he didn’t take himself too seriously, and Trevor could see why Chris had been so in love with him. Trevor was starting to feel a little bit in love, himself. Especially when Kevin smiled at him like that, like he was fun, like he was interesting. Kevin, Kevin Richardson, thought that he was a fun guy. This had to be the best night ever.

Lance couldn’t leave until Brian was ready for him. He didn’t want to leave Chris, anyway. He’d never seen Chris break down like that; he hadn’t thought it was possible. Brian had broken Chris tonight, broken him all over again.

It had been Brian. Chris had muttered something about Kevin, and said some confused-sounding things about Trevor, but when it came down to it, that had been all Brian. Brian, who hadn’t even glanced in Chris’s direction once in all of the time Lance had been there.

Lance wasn’t having a full breakdown, but he wasn’t having the best night of his life, either. Seeing Howie with JC - - dancing on JC, threading his fingers through JC’s hair, gazing into JC’s eyes, brushing whisper-soft kisses over JC’s mouth and cheeks, saying God only knew what with that look in his eyes, that look that made promises Howie never delivered on.

Except sometimes he did deliver, and that made everything wonderful, made everything harder. Made walking away impossible.

Nick or no Nick, Lance could tell that JC was being drawn in by Howie’s seduction. If Howie decided that he wanted JC, he’d have JC.

Lance wasn’t going to be gracing Howie’s bed for much longer. In fact, things might already be over.

Howie might take JC home. Even if he didn’t, if Lance respected himself, he wouldn’t go over to see Howie, tonight. Not after watching Howie with JC all night. Maybe it was all a show, maybe Howie didn’t mean any of it. But Lance couldn’t be sure. And he couldn’t be in Howie’s bed after everything he’d seen tonight.

Except, if he didn’t go tonight, he might never get another chance.

What if he went over, and JC was there?

Lance wondered what the odds were that he could get Howie to kick JC out for him.

JC was new. JC was on Howie’s level. Lance wasn’t new. Howie’s fingers couldn’t twine through Lance’s hair like that.

Lance wanted to throw his shot glass into JC’s face.

JC was his best friend. He loved JC, he did. But the second JC slept with Howie, unless Lance won out in the end, things were never going to be the same between them.

Joey scanned the crowd for AJ. He wanted to-

“Joey.” Nick was standing too close, his hand on Joey’s chest, his fingers tugging slightly on Joey’s shirt to get him closer. Fuck it, Joey wanted a break from Nick. “Put your hand on my ass. Left hand.”

That was one of the last places Joey’s hand wanted to be, but he put it there anyway. He squeezed, hoping it would piss Nick off.

Nick didn’t seem to notice. Then again, he was probably used to it. Or else he didn’t want to give Joey the satisfaction of a response. That was the fucking problem, that anything Nick did had at least five potential motivations, plus ten Joey hadn’t even thought of, and he could never figure out what the hell was going on. “Start kissing my neck.”

Joey stared at him. He wasn’t freaking serious.

Nick smiled, a small smile that said “I know you want me and it’s good for my ego.” Then he leaned in, tilting his head to the side, offering his neck, lips parting, hips grinding slowly against Joey’s. “Don’t piss me off,” he said, right by Joey’s ear, his hand rubbing Joey’s chest with the perfect amount of pressure to arouse and threaten.

Nick’s neck was right there. Long, and smooth, and inviting.

Nick pressed closer, almost nuzzling, his hair soft against Joey’s temple. His thumb teased Joey’s nipple, his thigh pressing intimately between Joey’s legs, and Joey was starting to get hard. Everything Nick was doing felt great, and he wanted to nuzzle Nick back, get closer, pull Nick against his body, take Nick for a spin.

His hand tightened on Nick’s ass, his other hand sliding up Nick’s side, as he kissed Nick’s neck. He kissed up toward Nick’s chin, then down to the collar of Nick’s shirt, before he started sucking gently on Nick’s skin. He licked out, tasting the salt of club sweat, Nick moaning so softly he might have imagined it. The hand that wasn’t on his chest came around his shoulders, and Nick was leaning back against the wall, pulling him in, their heads bowed together, Nick’s pulse under his tongue.

He knew what it had to look like, to Ashley. The obvious eroticism of their position. The sexual intimacy of their bodies. His active role. The sexual pleasure Nick radiated.

To Ashley’s eyes, this would look like betrayal.

Nick’s hand cupped the back of his neck. An intimate touch. A hold designed to keep him there. “He’s watching,” Nick whispered into his ear. “Lick to the other side.”

Joey licked a path up under Nick’s chin, making Nick raise his head back, then down the other side, settling in there. A new patch of skin, smooth flesh he hadn’t visited. He wondered how Nick had played it up, what orgasmic expressions had crossed Nick’s face. Ashley had to be dying.

Nick was panting in Joey’s ear, rubbing his hips slowly against Joey’s, his arousal hardening against Joey’s thigh. Joey was rock-hard, trying not to bite, starting to grind against Nick in earnest. Actually getting off on this was sounding like a better and better idea.

“We have to get out of here,” Nick panted. “We have to go, now.”

Hell, yes. Joey lifted his head, doing some heavy breathing of his own, unable to move away any further. He wanted better lighting, so he could see everything, but he could see Nick’s parted lips, sexual invitation. He could feel the press of Nick’s body, the thick hardness of Nick’s arousal, the grip of Nick’s hands. Nick was panting, chest rising and falling against his, and he wanted to-

He was falling for this! He was fucking falling for-

Nick saw the moment it hit; Nick looked like he wanted to laugh.

Joey pulled away from him, disgusted, sickened.

Nick’s eyes flashed a warning. If he ruined this scene, he was shit.

Joey hated Nick fucking Carter.

Nick touched him, hands on him, leaning in to whisper, “You’re coming home with me.” Then Nick was moving forward, shepherding him along. Joey went with it, thoroughly pissed at himself. How could he have fallen for it? He knew better, he knew Nick was an asshole, he knew the animosity between them was mutual.

God, he missed AJ.

JC was seated at the table, handing Erik a glass, when Nick appeared behind Erik’s shoulder. JC’s fingers slipped, but Erik was drunk enough, or simply oblivious enough, not to notice. JC looked up at Nick, ignoring Erik, forgetting all about Howie, with hope and dread twining in his gut.

Nick was picking up his jacket, saying good-bye to Kevin. Nick was leaving.

With Joey.

JC looked at Joey, desperate for some sign. Joey’s eyes were on Nick, and JC couldn’t read his expression. That wasn’t right, he could always read Joey. What was going on, what was happening, what could JC do to stop it?

Nick turned away.

No!

They were leaving.

No!

Howie’s hand squeezed his thigh under the table.

No…

“JC,” Howie said, “why don’t we go back to my office?”

JC met Howie’s eyes. Anger boiled up inside. Yes. Now. He wanted to do it now, now while he was angry enough to enjoy it. And he would enjoy it, he was going to get sick pleasure out of this, and when everything was over, he was going to be with Nick.

One more time, anyway.

When Howie had said, “JC, why don’t we go back to my office?” Erik had felt disappointed and frustrated. He wanted to hang out with them, and they kept leaving. Every time they walked away together, it reminded him that they had a personal, private relationship and that he was excluded from it.

Then Howie had reached across the table, Howie’s hand covering his. Howie’s fingers had stroked his wrist, the light touch making him shiver. “Let’s go to my office,” Howie had said, and Erik had realized that Howie was talking to him. “It’ll give us a little more privacy.”

Privacy? Him, and Howie, and JC, and privacy? Not that anything was going to happen, but maybe something would.

He followed Howie through the club, aware of JC at his back, trying to be suave and not stumble. When they reached Howie’s office, Erik was too busy trying to be cool about finally being alone with them to notice much about the room. Howie turned to JC, putting his hands on JC’s slim hips, and kissed him. It was a slow kiss, gentle, like Howie was feeding softly from JC’s mouth. They were actually kissing, really kissing, right in front of him. He stared, stupidly shocked, not sure his brain was actually working anymore.

Then Howie was turning away from JC, towards him, and Erik, startled, thought in a flash, this is it, this is it, he’s going to kiss me. But Howie just raised a hand to the side of his face, thumb skimming across his lips. Nervous, disappointed again, Erik tried not to smile like a dork. Howie looked into his eyes, and he looked back. Damn, Howie was one of the most gorgeous guys he’d ever met, and he almost wanted to say that out loud. And that smile, the private one with just the eyes, that tied knots inside Erik, knots of desire. Want. He wanted Howie, he wanted Howie to want him, he wanted to be included in this magical thing between Howie and JC.

Howie planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth, which made him want to turn his head and kiss Howie for real, take over, see how far he could push it. Then he felt the tiniest lick, a wet flick from the tip of Howie’s tongue. A little shocked, his dick a little harder, Erik watched Howie pull away again. “I have some business to take care of,” Howie said. “I’m going to leave JC here with you until I get back.” Leave? Howie couldn’t leave, he’d been close, he knew he’d been close.

Howie gave JC a real smile, the one Erik would stand on his head and juggle with his feet to get, the beautiful one that exposed at least eight teeth and made the room that many times brighter. “Enjoy yourself,” Howie told JC, and left, quietly closing the door behind himself.

Erik kept running into brick walls with Howie. He kept thinking he was getting closer, but Howie neatly sidestepped him every time. He’d thought, hoped, prayed, that maybe tonight would be the night he got somewhere, was given some kind of sign. Disappointment weighed him down.

“Erik-Michael.”

Erik turned, remembering. God, JC, how could he have been this fucking stupid? Howie was gone, yeah, but JC was still here. He was alone with JC. God, that was like fucking Christmas morning.

“I’m feeling like chopped liver,” JC said, but he was smiling, like he understood.

God, no, JC wasn’t chopped liver, JC was a banquet, JC was gourmet. JC was a buffet of sinfully rich foods, and Erik wanted to sample each one, wanted to help himself.

JC was lowering himself gracefully to the sofa, and Erik quickly followed suit, sitting beside him, reminding himself not to launch himself at JC. Yet.

“Howie likes for me to be happy,” JC said.

Erik could see why. JC was like a beautifully luxurious courtesan, who only grew more sexually indulgent when indulged. Was it his imagination, or was JC getting closer? His mouth was pink, his lashes lowering seductively, the curls and waves of his hair beckoning Erik’s hands. “Howie gives me whatever I want.”

Lucky JC. Lucky Howie. Erik was getting really hard. He wanted to adjust it, but he couldn’t risk any movement, couldn’t risk breaking the mood.

JC was a whole hell of a lot closer. He reached out, putting one hand on the armrest behind Erik, leaning in really, really close. His eyes did a deliberate drop to Erik’s mouth, and Erik almost gasped from the meaning of it. “I told him I want you,” JC said, and kissed him.

Yes, yes, fuck yes, fuck yes, god, yes! Erik kissed JC back, hard, wanting it, taking it. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so he put them everywhere, on JC’s shoulders, on JC’s arms, on JC’s chest, on JC’s back, on JC’s thighs, on JC’s ass. JC was lean, but hard with muscle, different from what Erik was used to having under his hands but so fucking-

“Erik-Michael.”

God, JC was amazing, JC was incredible, he’d never-

“Erik-Michael.” JC pushed at his chest, and Erik opened his eyes when JC’s mouth left his. He realized he’d been a little, uh, overenthusiastic, and he turned red with embarrassment. Nothing like acting like a grope-happy slobbering kid now that he was finally getting his second chance with JC. Especially since JC was like a professional at this.

“Sorry,” Erik said, licking his lips, taking his hands off JC. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

“No,” JC said, coming so close he was practically in Erik’s lap. Wow. It really was Christmas. JC’s hands stroked his chest, and he wished he had Howie’s body. “I want this,” JC said, his voice soft but intense, his mouth coming close to Erik’s. “I’m sorry, honey, I can’t…” JC licked his own lips, and Erik got the hint, dick throbbing painfully inside his pants. “…tonight. But I can do,” his thumb rubbed over Erik’s nipple, making it tight, “other things.” His breath was soft on Erik’s lips. “I want to know how hard you are. I want to see it. I want to feel it.” His hand was on Erik’s thigh, squeezing, stroking, close to his dick, making him even harder. Oh, god, Erik couldn’t take this. “Take it out for me,” JC whispered.

Take it - - Erik fumbled open his pants, jerking his fly open. Then he realized what he was about to do. Pull his dick out in the open air. For another guy. His gaze flew up to JC.

He hadn’t put his hands in JC’s hair. If he stopped now, would he be allowed to? Or, if he blew this, would JC decide he wasn’t worth it?

While Erik was teetering, indecisive, JC leaned in again, looking so fucking beautiful Erik had to blink. “Please, honey,” JC whispered, squeezing his inner thigh again, making him moan a little. “I want to put my hand on it. I want to see it for myself, so I can tell Howie how big it is.”

He wanted them to want him. He wanted to give JC a good story to tell Howie, so Howie might want to try him, too. He reached into his underwear for it, pulling it out, showing it to JC. It throbbed in his hand, and he gave it a little squeeze, moaning again, wanting more. Just when he was feeling a little silly, sitting there with his dick in his hand, JC’s hand came in, fingers stroking over his knuckles. “Erik-Michael,” JC breathed, and Erik pulled on his dick a little, getting off on the way JC said his name. JC’s eyes drew him in, and JC’s other hand slid up his chest, slowly. “Give it to me.”

Erik came closer, getting it as close to JC as he could without rubbing it all over JC’s clothes, and slid his hand from between JC’s hand and his dick. JC’s hand wrapped firmly around his erection, and Erik groaned, digging his fingers into the sofa cushion. JC kissed him, and he moaned into JC’s mouth, hips bucking forward helplessly as JC’s perfect grip jacked him with the ultimate blend of pressure and coverage. God, he was going to come, he knew he was going to come, his body was kicking into high gear, but it was too soon, he’d just gotten into JC’s hand, he wanted time to enjoy it. Panting into JC’s kiss, Erik tensed against orgasm, hearing himself make overexcited, protesting sounds. God, god, not yet, no, god, oh god, oh yes, yes, yes, yes - - oh! Oh, oh, Erik shuddered, realizing he was still in his own body. He untensed a little, uncurling his fingers from their cramped hold on the cushion, opening his eyes.

Shit. He’d come on JC’s shirt. Somehow, he didn’t think that anybody was allowed to come on JC’s clothes.

But JC didn’t say anything about it, just kissed him again, more gently this time. “Do something for me,” JC said, his thumb wiping sweat from Erik’s temple.

Uh… He hadn’t anticipated this. It made sense that JC would want the favor to be returned, but JC hadn’t really said anything about it until now, and Erik wasn’t sure-

“Not that,” JC said, and smiled a little. Relief flooded Erik. Okay. “I’m not asking for that tonight. But I want… I’ve been thinking about you,” JC said, and kissed him softly. “You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to, but…”

Do what?

JC raised his hand between them. His hand was wet with, oh. Erik met JC’s eyes over his hand. Was he supposed to…?

JC waited. His expression was patient, merely awaiting sexual pleasure.

Erik swallowed. He wasn’t being asked to lick up anybody else’s cum, at least. He didn’t want to do it, but it probably wouldn’t outright kill him, right? On the one hand, JC had just gotten him off, so he sort of owed JC a little something. On the other hand, JC was gay, so jacking off other guys was JC’s thing, it wasn’t like it was that much of a sacrifice. JC had probably been even more into it than he had.

Still, it had been one hell of an orgasm. It couldn’t hurt to humor JC. After all, if he did, it would increase the odds of this happening again. And next time, he might get a blowjob.

Erik licked JC’s fingertips. JC slid two fingers into his mouth, so he played along, licking some more, sucking a little bit. It, oh, it felt kind of good, JC’s fingers sort of fucking his mouth-

Jesus. He shouldn’t be getting off on that, should he?

JC withdrew his fingers.

Erik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and zipped up, feeling a little weird. Exposed, or something.

JC kissed him. “I’m going to have to thank Howie for my present.”

Howie had given him to JC. He was a gift, from Howie, to JC. He kind of liked the idea of that. He knew he’d be jacking off over it.

Another kiss. “Thank you, Erik-Michael.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, trying to sound cool about it. JC and Howie seemed so above everything, he had to make sure he didn’t come across as an idiot around them. JC thanking him seemed to have been his cue to go, so he stood. “I’ll…see you later?” He winced; he hadn’t intended for that to sound like a question.

“I hope it’s soon,” JC said.

He didn’t have anything else to say, besides “thanks,” which he knew would come out sounding feeble, so he went to the door.

Howie was standing right there, with a sweetly teasing, warmly knowing smile. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Erik hesitated. But why not go for it, JC and Howie were a couple, if he could come in JC’s hand he could-

Howie turned his head at the last second, and Erik’s kiss skidded across his cheek. His hair smelled great, but that couldn’t dull the rising flush of Erik’s embarrassment. What the hell? This wasn’t even fucking fair, how was he supposed to read these people, how was he supposed to interpret - - Howie’s hand stroked his neck, and Howie kissed his cheek. “Good night,” Howie whispered. Then Howie ducked past him, entering the office, and closed the door.

Fuck it. He was already getting hard again.

The second the door closed, JC was up off of the couch, pulling off his shirt and scrubbing his hands with it, dumping it into the trash can. He spat twice. Fuck this. He needed to wash his hands, brush his teeth, wash his whole face.

“We’ll wait here until they’re gone,” Howie said. He glanced at the sofa, then walked around to sit behind his desk.

JC paced the office. He wasn’t going to sit on that sofa, either.

“How big is it?” Howie asked.

“Normal,” JC said. “A little shorter, a little thicker.”

“Than what?” Howie asked.

“Mine.” He wouldn’t meet Howie’s eyes, kept pacing. “Yours.”

Howie sat back, relaxing, fingers laced across his stomach. “I’ve never seen yours.”

That didn’t seem right. But maybe it was true. He’d had it out that time in Howie’s foyer, but maybe Howie hadn’t been looking. Maybe it hadn’t been worth it, to Howie.

“How was it?”

How was what? His - - oh. The fumbling, walking sexual disaster that was Erik Estrada. “Horrible. He was a sloppy mess. I’ve never been groped so ineptly, or kissed with such panting, slobbering recklessness. Maybe it was worse because he was drunk; he did better last time.” JC stopped pacing, resigning himself to remember Erik’s reactions. “He fell for everything, he gave in on everything. He took it out, he managed not to shove it against me, he came like he hadn’t been with anybody in a while. He licked it up, I even fucked his mouth with my fingers until he realized he was getting into it and started to panic.”

“He’ll get over that,” Howie said. He smiled. “I knew he’d love you.”

JC felt dirty. He had to see Nick. He could lose himself in Nick.

A toast…a toast to Brian’s apple’s Adam. Adam’s Brian apple. Brian’s Adam’s apple. A toast to Brian’s right index finger. A toast to…oh. Look. Oh, look, Justin. Justin was back. Hi, Justin. “Hi, Justin.”

Chris watched Justin take the glass out of his hand and drink from it. Justin had just taken his drink away from him. Hey! Justin had taken his drink! And swallowed it! Now he’d have to get another one! That wasn’t nice. “That wasn’t nice,” he told Justin, only Justin wasn’t there anymore, Justin was at the other end of the table. He signaled to the waitress, except he couldn’t find her.

A hand, a broad long-fingered hand, gently but firmly pushed his arm down. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.” Chris blinked. Oh, Kevin. No, he hadn’t had enough. Had he? Enough? And why did Kevin care? What was Kevin… Oh, that was right. Ha! Ha, ha, that was funny. Everything was funny. Kevin was funny. Kevin was pretending to be his ex-boyfriend, except Kevin was Justin’s ex-boyfriend. Or Justin’s ex-lover. Or Justin’s ex-fucker-upper. Fucker-upper. Hee, hee. Trevor was his friend, Trevor would think this was funny, too. He tugged at Trevor’s shirt to get Trevor’s attention. Why was everybody so tall? Oh, because they were standing, and he was sitting. Maybe if he stood up, he’d be tall, too. Yeah. Oh, wait, he could stand up. He could, oh, whoa, hello…

Trevor caught Chris, lowering him back to his chair. “You okay?”

Chris looked at him and laughed. “It’s…really tall…fixer-upper…ha!”

“Maybe I should take him home,” Kevin said.

Trevor kept a hand on Chris’s chest, to keep him in his seat, and looked over his shoulder at Kevin. “No, I’ll do it. He brought me.” Considering Kevin and Chris’s history, he didn’t think he’d be a very good friend if he left Chris in that situation.

“Are you sure?” Kevin asked. Kevin’s hand was on his back. It felt like a strong hand, masculine, the firm and confident touch of a real man.

“Yeah,” Trevor said, trying not to give away how affected he was.

“All right. Let me help you get him to the car. It’ll take two of us.”

Trevor pulled at Ashley’s elbow. “Hey, Ash, I’m going.”

Ashley turned dull blue eyes to him. There was a long pause. “What?”

Not as drunk as Chris, but not all that far. Erik was walking over. “Erik! I’m taking Chris home. Can you guys follow me so I can get home?”

Erik took a second, like he wasn’t quite all there. Then, “Yeah. I’m ready to go.”

“Great.” Trevor left it to Erik to round up the other guys, and returned his attention to Chris. “We’re going home, okay?”

“You’re so nice to me,” Chris said.

“That’s what friends are for,” Trevor said, getting on one side of him while Kevin took the other side. “Let’s go. Time to stand up.”

“Stand…up,” Chris said. He cooperated loosely as they lifted his weight. “Up…stand,” he said, as though improving upon an idea. They got him upright; he stumbled, and they caught him. “Upstanding,” he told Trevor.

“You sure are,” Trevor said, moving him forward.

“Where are we going?” Chris asked.

“We’re going home,” Trevor said.

“Home…home…on the range…where the…deer…whoops!”

“You’re okay,” Trevor assured him, hauling him up again. “The door’s over this way.”

“Try to concentrate on walking,” Kevin said. “Walking.”

“Ow,” Chris said. “I never did like you.”

Trevor tried not to laugh.

“Mean to everybody,” Chris muttered. “Hey, where are we going?”

Justin had been taking a break from dancing, using the opportunity to get Dan drunk, getting a little drunk himself. Then AJ had shown up, embracing him from behind, chin on his shoulder, hands on his stomach. “C’mere,” AJ said, backing him away from the table a little, turning him around. He was comfortable against AJ’s body now, and it was simple to wrap his arms around AJ.

Then he realized that AJ was about to kiss him, leaning in for it. For a second, he thought, okay, that wouldn’t be too bad, the dancing was great. Then he remembered, and tensed, ducking at the last second.

AJ’s hands tightened on him; AJ growled by his ear. “What?” he asked, voice quiet but sharp.

“I can’t,” Justin explained, keeping his face turned from the table so Dan couldn’t see. “I promised Kevin I wouldn’t be with anyone else.”

“Fuck anyone else, or kiss anyone else?”

Well…fuck, mostly. It hadn’t been clearly defined. But he couldn’t risk Kevin’s wrath; he couldn’t risk betraying his love for Kevin. “I can’t,” he said.

AJ’s fingers dug cruelly into his waist. “You don’t get to refuse me.”

AJ was angry. But AJ would just have to stay angry. Justin loved Kevin. He’d made promises.

“I didn’t want to do it this way,” AJ said. “This is your last chance. I’ll do what I have to do. I was going to be nice, but I don’t have to be.”

He couldn’t. Kevin.

“You fucking cunt.” AJ shoved him away, hard; startled, taken by surprise, Justin stumbled back into a chair. Before he could recover, AJ was jerking him forward, twisting his wrist, yanking him along.

Suddenly aware of how drunk he was, Justin tried to pull away, not even close to accepting this kind of treatment, in fucking public, from AJ. AJ pulled him up short, snarling into his face. “You asked for it,” AJ spat, “you asked for it, and now you’re getting it.” AJ jerked him forward and then back, shaking him. “Get your ass to the car.” AJ shoved him forward, releasing his wrist; he spun, stumbling, off-balance. He was aware of Lance’s wince, Dan’s shock, AJ pausing to pick up his jacket. Then AJ was shoving him forward again, hissing curses and threats and insults, pushing him through the club to the back door.

In the alley, in the night air, realizing that he was still in his undershirt, Justin turned to face AJ. “You-”

AJ gripped his elbow tightly. “Public. People. Cameras. Get your ass in my fucking car.”

They were in an alley! But he knew better, and he remembered Kevin, Chris’s driveway, “Don’t embarrass me in public.” AJ was right, Kevin was right. Justin pulled it together, mostly, pulling away from AJ’s painful grip. “I’m getting a cab.”

“You’re getting in my car. I’m taking you home.” AJ got closer, rage in his eyes. “Right now, you worthless bitch.”

That, this wasn’t, AJ couldn’t-

“If you can’t follow instructions on your own, I’ll teach you how,” AJ snarled, voice pitched only for his ears. AJ’s eyes were so dark, so beautiful, so hateful. “I’ll make you learn. Maybe you want a new set of scars to match the first.”

Justin jerked backward. No. AJ didn’t know about that. Nobody knew about that. No. He was panting, scared, heart racing. Kevin-

“Get. In. My. Car.”

No. No. No.

AJ pushed him. “That way.”

Justin felt himself scurrying.

They got Chris into the front seat. Trevor buckled him in and stood.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah,” Trevor said. He knew that he could handle it, and even if he couldn’t, he would never admit it to Kevin. Someone that confident would never respect someone weak.

“Okay.” Kevin leaned into the car. He said something Trevor couldn’t hear, and then he kissed Chris’s cheek and rose. “It was great to meet you,” Kevin said.

“Oh, absolutely,” Trevor said. “I can’t believe it.” Dumb, dumb, dumb!

Kevin smiled, the amused, gracious, “I know you’re in awe of me and that’s okay” smile. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said, trying not to sound desperately hopeful.

“Good night,” Kevin said.

“Good night,” Trevor said, and watched him walk away. Wow. Wow. He’d just met Kevin Richardson.

“What a girl wants…what a girl needs…what…something…happy…”

Chris was a much better singer when he was sober. Trevor made sure he was tucked into the car, then closed the door on him and saw the other guys coming out of the club, the valet going to get the other car.

Erik, Dan, Ashley. Where was Jacob?

Brian looked like he wanted to laugh, eyes sparkling. “I think they’re leaving without you.”

“Yeah.”

“I should go, too.” Brian started to get up. “I’ll give you a call?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jacob said. “Anytime.” He stood and, whoa. He hadn’t had that much to drink. Had he?

Brian’s hand was on his arm, steadying him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little head rush.” Jacob patted his pockets, making sure he had everything he’d come with. “It was great talking to you.”

“You, too,” Brian said.

He felt like he should say something else, do something to end the moment. But there was nothing he felt could break this slight yet steady connection between them. So he just walked away, and felt like he was taking a part of Brian with him, just as he’d left a part of himself behind.

“Hey.” Brian’s voice. Jacob glanced over his shoulder.

Brian was talking to Lance.

Jacob walked a few more steps, then hesitated, turning to look.

Lance was standing with Brian by the table. Bending over to write something on a napkin.

His phone number?

Lance handed it over; Brian put it in his pocket. They said a few more words, then Brian took a step back, touching Lance’s arm. Lance nodded, and said something else, and they parted ways.

Nick wanted to sleep at his own house, in his own bed.

Joey wanted to sleep in his own house in his own bed, too, but he’d been overruled. They had to spend the night together, and Nick refused to sleep at Joey’s house unless he absolutely had to. If Ashley came wandering around, he couldn’t catch Joey home alone, not right after their little performance at the club.

Joey didn’t want to sleep in Nick’s bed. The guest room was bad enough, because it was still in Nick’s house.

A little drunk, half-undressed, Joey checked his cell phone. It was something to do, to keep him distracted from his own thoughts.

He called home to check his voice mail.

Message from his dad, message from Stacy, message from AJ.

AJ.

Joey sat straight up, listening intently.

“Good job tonight. You looked great.”

That was it?

AJ had called him. He listened to it again. Then a third time. Then a fourth time, rubbing his dick.

Erik was driving. Dan hadn’t wanted to let him, but he’d lied convincingly about how sober he was. Dan was in the passenger seat, staring hard at the road before them, at the back of Chris’s car, no doubt mentally driving for Erik.

Erik was concentrating on driving and trying not to think about JC’s hand on his dick or Howie’s tongue at the corner of his mouth. He could still fucking feel it, and it was driving him crazy.

JC had given up on pacing and was sitting on the floor, remembering good and bad times with Nick. Howie was doing paperwork.

Someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” Howie called, shifting papers.

Brian came in. “Everyone’s gone.”

“Great.” Howie stood, stretching. “I’m going home.”

JC stood. “I’ll…” He’d what? “See you.”

Howie nodded. “I’ll call you.”

JC stepped around Brian and left. The club was nearly empty, waitresses cleaning up. Outside, Lance was at the curb, getting into his car. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lance said, and looked surprised. “Where’s Howie?”

He - - oh. Lance thought… “We’re not… I’m going home.”

“Oh.”

JC ran his hands through his hair, sure it was worse for the wear. “How’d everything go?”

“It went okay,” Lance said. “How about you?”

“It was horrible, but it worked great, so I’m okay with it. Now I just want to go home and take a shower.”

“Call me tomorrow, okay? We need to have a meeting, the five of us.”

“Okay. I’ll call you when I get up.”

“Great.”

JC had to tell Lance, had to make it clear. “He didn’t even look like he was thinking about inviting me over tonight.”

Lance smiled. “Thanks.”

AJ had driven to Justin’s house. When AJ started to get out of the car, Justin got out, too.

He wasn’t going to take this. AJ was no one. If AJ said anything, or tried anything, Justin was going to fight back. Inside the house, he turned to face AJ, ready for a confrontation.

AJ put his cell phone to his ear. “Hey. Are you free? Yeah. I’m at Justin’s house. Yeah. Yeah.” He hung up and looked Justin in the eye.

Justin tried not to reel from the sudden, rising panic. “Who did you call? Who was that? Who did you call?!”

AJ walked past him, looking around.

“Who did you call!” Justin shouted at his back. “Who, who, who did you, who did you fucking-”

“Nice place,” AJ said, walking into the next room.

Justin ran to his bedroom, slamming into the bathroom. He ran water in the sink, stripping, washing quickly. He opened the medicine cabinet, knocking jars and bottles to the floor, hunting for what he needed. There! Black cherry, saved for a special occasion, because maybe something new and different would please Kevin. He fingered himself with it quickly, then went to his closet and got dressed, then went back to clean up the bathroom, because Kevin liked it when-

The doorbell.

Justin’s heart stopped.

Trevor parked in Chris’s driveway, unbuckling his seatbelt first, then Chris’s. He shook Chris gently, trying to wake him. “Chris. Chris. Chris? We’re home, we’re at your house.”

Chris’s head lolled in his direction; Chris’s eyes opened.

“Hey,” Trevor said. “We’re here.”

Chris reached out, patting at Trevor’s face.

Trevor smiled. “It’s good to see you, too. How are you doing?”

“I love you,” Chris said.

He knew Chris didn’t mean it. It was nice to hear. It was nice to think about. It was very flattering. But Chris was drunk, and confused. Trevor gently took hold of Chris’s hand and lowered it from his face. “We’re at your house.”

Chris twisted, trying to see. “We are?”

Trevor released Chris’s hand, feeling a little disappointed. “Yeah. Sit tight.” He got out of the car and came around to the other side. He helped Chris out, supporting his stagger to the door. “Do you want me to come in with you?” Something could happen, Chris could choke on his own vomit or pass out and hit his head or accidentally set the place on fire, somehow. Trevor didn’t want to leave him alone. But after that profession of love, even though Chris hadn’t truly meant it, Trevor didn’t want to impose too much intimacy.

Chris looked up. “Hey! This is my house!”

Trevor couldn’t help it; he had to laugh. “Yeah, this is your place.” He unlocked the front door. “Come on in.” Oh, shit. “Chris, what’s the code for this? What’s the code?”

“Wait!” Chris leaned against the wall, pushing buttons. Then Chris started to slide down the wall, so Trevor got him seated on the nearest piece of furniture. “Are you going to be okay?”

“You got tall again!”

That made no sense, but Trevor crouched down in front of him, in case that would help. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t think that’s on today’s schedule,” Chris said. “I can kiss you, though.” Chris leaned forward.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Trevor said, cupping Chris’s chin in one hand, easing Chris back. “I’m going to go. Can you get to bed?”

“Am I tired?”

“Be careful. Just go to bed and get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Trevor gave in to impulse and kissed Chris’s forehead. “Be careful,” he repeated, and got up. He put the keys on the table and left, locking the door behind himself. He walked down to the car, breathing deeply.

Chris hadn’t meant it, but…it had been a nice thought.

Justin shoved everything back into the medicine cabinet. AJ would get the door; AJ had asked over whoever it was. It probably wasn’t even Kevin, it was probably someone else.

He wasn’t going to go running to see, either. He kept backsliding, kept making a fool of himself, kept chasing after Kevin like he had no pride, no shame. He did have pride, and he wasn’t going to betray himself like that anymore.

He wasn’t going to chase after Kevin. He wasn’t going to let AJ treat him like shit. He was better than that. He did have a sense of self, no matter how badly Kevin had shaken it. Before this new mess had started up, he hadn’t seen Kevin in a long time, and he’d come really far. He could pull it together again.

He wasn’t going to let AJ fuck him, either. That was bullshit. They could plant any idea they wanted in Dan’s head, without that. They didn’t even have to kiss. He didn’t want to kiss AJ, and that alone meant that he wasn’t going to.

He’d be damned before he let anyone touch him without his permission. He paid trained, armed bodyguards a lot of money to make sure that didn’t happen; and AJ thought he could fucking demand it?

Justin looked at himself in the mirror. He hardened his gaze, hands gripping the sink. He wasn’t afraid of AJ. He wasn’t afraid of anyone.

“Justin.”

The unexpected sound of Kevin’s voice shocked him. Justin spun, facing the bathroom door. Not afraid, he told himself desperately, not afraid.

Kevin took a step back, away from the doorway. “Come out here.” Kevin sounded just a shade too casual. That meant trouble.

Justin came forward, out of the bathroom. “AJ didn’t tell me who he called.”

“AJ doesn’t have to tell you anything,” Kevin said.

AJ was standing behind Kevin, off to one side, arms over his chest, looking generally foreboding. Justin wanted him out of the house.

“I don’t have time for this, Justin,” Kevin said. “Chris fucked up every task I gave him, all night. I shouldn’t have to waste my energy on you, too.”

Justin clenched his jaw. He’d let Kevin talk. He’d wait until it was over, and then he’d react alone, in private.

“I shouldn’t have to be here,” Kevin said.

“AJ called you,” Justin said. “Not me.”

Kevin pointed at him. “That’s one.”

No! Justin almost shouted it. No, that wasn’t fair, Kevin couldn’t really think that they were doing that anymore! It had been years, Kevin couldn’t do that to him. Kevin couldn’t take him back there.

“You’re going to think of AJ as me,” Kevin said. “You never say no to me; you never say no to AJ. You obey me; you obey him. Is that clear?”

“I had to say no,” Justin said. “You-”

Kevin pointed at him. “How many is that?”

Justin pressed his lips together. He wasn’t going to answer.

Kevin took a step forward. His dark, heavy eyebrows were drawn together in anger. “How many is that, Justin?” he asked, the words coming out slow and threatening.

“You can’t do this to me,” Justin said. “I won’t let you.” It didn’t sound as defiant as he’d intended, but he’d said the words, and that was what counted.

“That’s three,” Kevin snapped.

“It’s two!” Justin protested.

“Now it’s four!”

Justin shut his mouth. When it was one, or maybe two, sometimes he could work it off in other ways. When it got up to four, he was in for it, and there was nothing he could do.

“You don’t talk back to me,” Kevin warned. “You don’t talk back to AJ. Whenever he wants you to do something, you do it, and you don’t ask why.”

If he could just explain himself, Kevin would understand. “I was-”

“How many is that, Justin?”

This wasn’t fair! “That’s five,” he said, stung by the injustice. He’d refused AJ for Kevin’s sake! He wasn’t even being given a chance to explain!

“Normally I’d make him change his tone,” Kevin said, turning to AJ. “Right now, I’m going to let it go. He’s only acting up because he needs to be fucked. If you give it to him, he’ll be more obedient.”

“He’s not touching me!” Justin shouted at Kevin’s back.

Slowly, with glacial coldness, Kevin turned to face him.

Justin was glaring, hands balled into fists, on the outside. On the inside, he was shivering, quaking.

Kevin was never quite so beautiful as when he was cold as ice. “How old are you?”

He didn’t understand the purpose of the question, but he knew to answer quickly. “Twenty-one.”

“Do you think you’re too old to be spanked?”

He had to answer the question, even though it wasn’t really a question; and he had to do it in front of AJ. Justin swallowed. “No,” he said, keeping his voice above a whisper only because if he were too quiet, Kevin would make him repeat himself. His gaze was locked on Kevin. If he didn’t look at AJ, he could pretend that AJ wasn’t there. He was exposed, vulnerable, in his own home, in his own bedroom.

“Get the camera.”

Now? Not now. Not in front of AJ. But he couldn’t disobey Kevin, not while he was already up to five and Kevin was threatening to spank him. He walked past Kevin, past AJ without looking, and went to get the videocamera.

Camera, tape, tripod. Justin swallowed and went back to the bedroom.

AJ was lounging back against the wall. Justin didn’t look too closely. He began to set up the camera, turning it to face the bed. Going through the motions, he felt himself slipping back in time. He’d never thought that he’d be here again, preparing his own execution.

He knew better than to beg for mercy. That would only raise it to six. Kevin might be merciful, but that was at Kevin’s discretion; if he asked for leniency, he’d be punished for it. Kevin wanted him to suffer silently. The sound of his voice was not pleasing to Kevin’s ears.

But he couldn’t do this in front of AJ.

His fingers skittered over the record button, unable to press it.

“Five,” Kevin said from a few feet behind him. “Then you wash yourself, and I might fuck you. AJ’s spending the night. Whatever he wants in the morning, you give to him.”

Justin pivoted quickly.

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” Kevin told AJ.

AJ pushed himself away from the wall and left the room, closing the door.

Relief coursed through him. So grateful he was weak-kneed, Justin said, “Thank you.” He held back anything more effusive; Kevin didn’t like gushing. AJ was out of the room. They were alone. Kevin might take him.

“You’re wasting my time.”

Hurriedly, Justin pushed “record” and walked to the bed. In range, he undressed, not looking at the camera but also not hiding his face. Naked, he got on the bed, kneeling, sitting back on his heels, knees spread wide. He could do this. If he did a good job, Kevin might fuck him. Every time Kevin walked away from him, in his heart he was sure that it was the last time, that Kevin would never come near him again. But if he did this, if he proved himself, if he proved that he loved Kevin enough to do this, then Kevin might stay. Kevin might want to come back. He might have Kevin in his life again. The hope of it had Justin’s heart pounding in his chest, and as he looked past the camera to where Kevin stood off to one side, Justin took himself in hand.

If he focused on Kevin, he’d be okay. Jacking his dick on auto-pilot, keeping his gaze on Kevin’s face, Justin thought about Kevin fucking him. Sometimes Kevin eased into him, slowly filling him, pumping into him until he was stretched full. Sometimes Kevin thrust into him roughly, forcing it on him, making him cry out with pain as much as with pleasure. But there was always pleasure with the pain, because Kevin had shown Justin how to need. How to love. How to let his body give pleasure to someone else. How to let his body accept the hot, spiraling ecstasy that Kevin could give him. When they were alone and the lights were low and Kevin was making love to him and every touch burned through his flesh and his body couldn't contain the overwhelming-

“Oh!” God, god, he hadn't been ready for that. “That was one,” Justin said, his voice shuddering as he pumped the last spurts from his dick. Waiting for his heart to stop racing, he shifted back to sit down, off of his knees. He didn’t try to wipe up; he wasn’t allowed to clean himself until he was done.

He looked at Kevin some more. Kevin was still standing in the same place, behind the camera and off to one side, arms crossed over his chest now, giving no sign of interest in what was happening on the bed. Justin mentally undressed him, fantasizing about stripping him naked and licking his chest, fantasizing about getting up and walking right over there and sucking his dick. Maybe he’d get to, tonight.

Kevin was looking at him. He wondered if Kevin liked the sight. His body was more filled out now, more muscular. Maybe Kevin liked him more now that he was older. Maybe Kevin would see that he was an adult now and not a kid anymore. He wondered what it would take to get Kevin to see him as an equal. A miracle, maybe, but it made a nice fantasy. He had a lot of fantasies about Kevin, about the way they might interact if things were different, about how their relationship could be. What would it be like if they were equals? Gazing at Kevin, Justin stroked his dick slowly, wondering. If they were equals, Kevin would come to join him on the bed. It would be just the two of them, their love, their desire. They’d kiss, and he’d relax onto his back, and Kevin’s hands would rub over his body, making every inch of him come alive. The passion between them would make them want to rush at the same time that their love for each other would make them want to slow down, take their time, appreciate each moment. He’d want Kevin to fuck him but Kevin would kiss his chest, hands caressing his torso, tongue licking down to his dick, and the-

“That was two,” Justin told the camera. He wanted to sit back, get comfortable, but he couldn’t relax in front of the camera, and he couldn’t pretend that the camera wasn’t there.

He remembered the first time he’d done this. He’d only had to give one cum shot, but he’d cried the whole way through it. Kevin had made him introduce himself, too. “I’m Justin Timberlake. I love myself so much I only want to have sex with myself.” That was the point. According to Kevin, if he interrupted Kevin and talked back and had no respect, he must love himself more than he loved Kevin. If he loved himself that much, and didn’t love Kevin, he must not want to have sex with Kevin; he must want to have sex with himself. And if he loved himself that much, then he’d better tape it, so he could watch it over and over and over again. That was what Kevin said, and everything that Kevin said was permanently etched across Justin's brain.

This exercise wasn't punishment; Kevin called it a consequence. A lesson. Kevin thought that Justin had a lot to learn. The first time, it had been humiliating. It had been degrading. All through the rest of his life, increasingly with every year, everything that he did was watched and recorded and commented on. One of the very few private things he had left was masturbation - - at least nobody was watching that. Putting his body, his sexuality, something that terribly private on display, exposing himself and putting it on tape, had been obscenely mortifying. Justin had been ashamed and humiliated. He would have been embarrassed in front of Kevin alone, but he might have gotten used to it, might have tried to get into it and perform for Kevin. But a camera? A camera taping his every move? It was too much of an invasion of privacy. Too much potential for discovery. What if the tape fell into the wrong hands? What if someone found it or stole it? What if someone publicized it? What if everyone in the world could log onto the Internet and see him coming on himself?

Too much exposure. Too much degradation.

What would his mother think if she saw an edited clip on the news? What would his grandmother think if she heard “That’s two?”

Justin lost his hard-on. Swallowing, staring down at the wrinkled, cum-spotted sheets, he tugged on his dick. He could do it. He could do it for Kevin. He’d been prideful. He needed to be punished. He-

He was a cheap whore, he’d do anything for attention, he was a fucking slut, he didn’t deserve privacy, he didn’t deserve respect. This was who he really was, and they were all going to find out, and he deserved to be found out, he deserved to be exposed for the filth that he was.

No, he didn’t, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t fake, he wasn’t a worthless whore, he wasn’t a second-class citizen. He was-

He was sitting on his bed, jacking off for a camera, shooting cum for the world to see. He wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t be doing it if he were really afraid of being exposed. He must want to do it. He must want them to see him like this. No one was forcing him to do it. No one was making him touch himself in front of the world. There wasn’t a gun to his head.

Justin let go of his dick, curling forward, hugging himself. Why did he do this? Why did he put himself through this? It was Kevin, it was Kevin, Kevin was doing this to him. He had to make it stop, he had to learn to say no, why couldn’t he just say no?

“I hate this,” he wept, sinking onto his side on the mattress. “I hate myself. Why are you doing this to me? I love you, I love you so much.” He couldn’t live with this kind of shame. He couldn’t slide down this spiral of self-loathing anymore. After Kevin had destroyed him before, he hadn’t been able to look himself in the mirror for so long it had become second nature. He’d even had to stop looking directly at himself on TV and pictures. When JC had finally confronted him about it, it had still taken him weeks to work up the nerve to meet his own reflection. The sight of his own eyes had been shocking. It had only been then that he’d realized he was older than he remembered. He hadn’t looked into his own eyes in that long.

In time, away from Kevin, he’d begun to get his self-confidence back. Little by little, he’d worked himself back up. He hadn’t been the same as before, but he’d felt more secure in himself. When he’d on occasion been at the same function as Kevin, he’d done everything he could to make sure they never conversed.

Now Kevin was back, and pulling him down the same paths as before. It was familiar territory, and it was easy for him to drop back into old habits, old ways of thinking.

But he didn’t want to hate himself anymore. He just wanted to love Kevin.

He couldn’t do this. He had to stop. He was going to get up, get off of the bed, turn the camera off, and smash the tape. Kevin wouldn’t like it, but what was Kevin really going to do to him? Get mad? Kevin was always mad at him. He was never going to make Kevin happy. But maybe he could make himself happy.

If he did this, if he made it through two, three, four, and five, Kevin might fuck him.

If he disobeyed, Kevin wouldn’t fuck him.

Sometimes obedience brought rewards. If he did what Kevin wanted, he’d get something in return. Sex, warmth, kind words. Time with Kevin. A chance at treasured moments with Kevin’s voice, Kevin’s touch, Kevin’s body. Kevin was all Justin wanted. He’d give or do anything to gain even a second of Kevin’s attention. And when he had it, it was worth it, it was worth all of the pain and humiliation and work and heartache. Kevin was everything to him, and when those green eyes turned on him, when he felt those hands on his skin, when he was naked under Kevin’s body, nothing else mattered, and everything he’d gone through was obliterated by the sheer ecstasy of being with Kevin again.

Sometimes obedience brought nothing. He was expected to obey. He was supposed to obey. It was his place to do whatever Kevin wanted, without question, without hesitation.

Sometimes obedience brought more demands, more challenges, more pain. Yes, he’d done that for Kevin, but could he do this? Yes, he’d gone through that, but that was nothing, was he willing to go through more? There was no end, he could never prove himself enough, he was never worthy. He never would be worthy. He’d never be able to give enough, because he himself wasn’t enough. He was nothing. Kevin knew it; Kevin had taught him.

He had to do what Kevin wanted. He had to obey. Disobedience brought punishment. When Kevin got mad, Justin got hurt. Sometimes through words. Kevin said cruel, hateful things that hammered into Justin’s brain and stayed there. There was malice in Kevin’s heart and violence in Kevin’s voice and when Kevin yelled, Justin broke.

Sometimes the punishment was physical. Justin had learned to withstand that. Kevin broke skin but never broke bones. Blood washed away. The psychological scars were the ones that never healed.

Sometimes the punishment was creative. Kevin could be very inventive when the mood struck. The last time Justin had tried to refuse to go through with an on-camera performance, Kevin had taught him that, ultimately, Kevin’s will and Kevin’s orders and Kevin’s desires far outweighed any other considerations. Kevin was the final, the only, authority in Justin’s world. Kevin was the only thing in Justin’s world.

If he did this, Kevin might fuck him.

If he didn’t do this, Kevin wouldn’t fuck him.

Justin opened his eyes.

If he did this, Kevin might fuck him.

If he didn’t do this, Kevin wouldn’t fuck him.

He sat up, smearing away tears with his left hand.

If he did this, Kevin might fuck him.

He got up on his knees again, sitting back on his heels. He looked at the camera, then at Kevin.

Kevin smiled at him, his “I’m proud of you” smile.

He’d done something right; he’d made Kevin happy. Making Kevin happy was what Justin lived for. It was hard for Justin to make Kevin happy, because he was low, unworthy, miserable, nothing. Not much that he did could have any effect on Kevin at all, certainly not a positive one. But sometimes he did something right, and Kevin liked it, and Kevin’s encouragement, Kevin’s smile, made Justin willing to do anything that Kevin asked.

Seeing Kevin happy with him, that stunning smile, it made Justin hot inside, made him want to burst with a sudden shock of pride, made his dick leap in his hand. He loved Kevin so much that Kevin’s happiness was the world to him, and the knowledge that he personally had done something to make Kevin happy was all he needed to urge him on to accomplish any feat, anything at all.

On top of that...Kevin might fuck him.

Justin pumped his dick. Kevin might fuck him. Fuck him hard and long, deep inside, maybe from behind, so all he could do was feel it, take it, unable to look into those burning green eyes but feeling the burn all the way through, Kevin’s chest at his back, Kevin’s broad-shouldered form covering his. Eyes closed, fist moving, Justin could almost hear Kevin’s rhythmic, low grunts mixing with his ragged, panting breaths; could almost feel Kevin’s mouth on his shoulder, Kevin’s teeth on his flesh, Kevin’s hand closing around his dick and pulling, jacking, that tight grip, that steady rhythm, the pounding inside, the pump and squeeze of Kevin’s fist, Kevin inside him, Kevin behind him, Kevin around him, and he was coming, he was coming, he was coming.

The world returned.

Justin opened his eyes.

Reality hurt.

Justin swallowed, dragging himself back to focus, refusing to let the sheer misery and hell of his life overwhelm him. “That’s three.” He was a sticky mess, and his dick was tired. He fondled his balls, knowing he’d never make it to five. Sometimes Kevin showed mercy and let him pay off his debts in other ways. Sometimes they waited there, him on the bed and Kevin behind the camera, until he hit his number.

When Kevin had been fucking him and fucking him, and he was covered in sweat and cum, his own and Kevin’s, he didn’t mind at all. He loved Kevin’s cum, and he loved having it on his skin. But now, he felt disgusting.

When Justin was alone, in the dark of night, thinking of Kevin, he turned masturbation into a sweating, moaning, full-bodied frenzy. He’d tried to stop jacking off over Kevin, off and on for a while, but eventually he gave in to the need again.

But when Kevin was in the room and the camera was on, Justin found it hard to put on a show. It wasn’t an exploration of his body’s desires and his mind’s fevered fantasies, it was a lesson. He’d misbehaved and shown that he was only interested in himself and the sound of his own voice, and as a result he had to pay the consequences. It was degrading and designed to shame him, and there was nothing erotic about it.

It exposed him for that he was. That made him hate himself, not eager to explore his body.

Usually, this particular lesson made him hate his dick, made him absolutely sick of it, and he wouldn’t touch it for days afterward unless he had to, to dress or urinate. One time, he remembered breaking down, crying, begging Kevin to cut it off, he didn’t want it, he hated it, he hated it, please…

Justin closed his eyes, holding his limp dick loosely. He had to get through this. Four wasn’t coming. Four wasn’t even close. Four might not happen at all. But that was unacceptable. He had to keep going. He couldn’t give up, he couldn’t stop now. If he made it through this, he might get Kevin, time with Kevin, sex with Kevin. Kevin had been proud of him earlier; if he stopped now...

Justin closed his eyes and thought about Kevin, slowly working his dick, remembering times when Kevin had kissed him, slowly, made out with him, made love to him for hours. He’d been in heaven, erotic heaven, sure he was dreaming, giving himself to Kevin again, and again, and again. There had been days when Kevin had been good to him, nights when Kevin had been a generous lover, not only passionate but considerate as well. Nights when sex wasn't fucking, sex was making love, slowly and forever. Nights without punishments or accusations or degradation, nights full of erotic love and burning desire and sublime ecstasy. Nights when Kevin had treated him well, and touched him as though he were beautiful, and kissed him as though he were loved.

Oh. Oh. Oh, that counted. “That was four,” Justin said, a little startled.

Kevin moved. Justin paid strict attention, all of his focus shifting immediately to Kevin. Kevin turned off the camera. “You’re done for now and I don’t have time to wait for you to get it back. Go clean yourself up, you’re disgusting.”

Grateful, Justin scurried to the bathroom, washing quickly, splashing a lot of water around as he moved incessantly between the sink and the doorway, keeping an eye on Kevin to make sure he didn’t leave.

Brian came out of the club. “Lance.” He walked over to where Lance was standing by the curb. “Thanks for your help tonight.”

“No problem.” He’d barely done anything.

“Howie will be out in a minute.”

Lance wanted to be humiliated, but Brian’s understanding smile took away any embarrassment.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Brian said.

“Yeah,” Lance said.

“Good night.” Brian left.

Lance told himself to go the fuck home.

He lingered.

The valet pulled Howie’s car up behind his. That meant that Howie was on his way out. Lance waited.

Howie stepped onto the sidewalk. “Lance.” Friendly curiosity.

“Hi,” Lance said. “I wondered if you,” shit, he was going to hate himself for this, “wanted some company.” He couldn’t believe he was doing this to himself.

“All right. You can follow me.”

Kevin began to undress.

Justin dried off hurriedly, back in the bedroom a second later. Kevin’s body was magnificent. It was art, it was godlike. Kevin’s dick was hard, standing up tall and proud, precum pearling at the tip, and Justin was disappointed in his own dick hanging limp between his thighs. He should be better for Kevin.

Kevin cupped Justin’s ass in one hand, kissing him. Passion ignited Justin; he kissed back hungrily, wrapping his arms around Kevin, pressing himself to Kevin’s strong, broad chest.

“Get on your stomach,” Kevin said, with a push to his hip.

Justin tore himself away, laying facedown on the bed on top of sheets dotted with his own drying cum. He spread his thighs, resting his cheek on his hands, and waited.

He shuddered with anticipation.

Sometimes Kevin came to him immediately. Sometimes Kevin didn’t come to him for a few minutes. Sometimes Kevin made him wait for hours. One time, Howie had come over, and Justin had stayed there, naked, splayed, waiting, until Howie had dinner and left.

He hadn’t moved, except to scratch his nose. By the time Kevin had returned to him, his muscles had been stiff from keeping position. But he’d been fucked twice, as a reward for his obedience.

Justin was very well trained.

The bed dipped and creaked; Kevin’s hands pulled his thighs wider apart. Kevin was going to fuck him. He heard Kevin spit, and a wet finger pushed into him. Moaning, Justin tensed, excited. He was going to have Kevin’s dick inside him, Kevin’s hands on his body. Kevin was going to fuck him, come in him, use him for pleasure. Of all the people in the world, of all of the potential sex partners, Kevin had chosen him tonight.

Justin moaned, writhing on Kevin’s finger. It was pushing in deep, stretching him, opening him for Kevin’s erection. He wanted to be an easy home for Kevin, didn’t want to be too tight for entry. The lube he’d applied earlier should help. He’d been saving it for a special occasion. Any time with Kevin was special.

Kevin’s finger left him. He felt the blunt pressure of Kevin’s erection. It was time. He sucked in his breath and waited.

Slow, filling, stretching. Pressing in, filling him up, delving in deep, deep, deep. Justin gasped, grasping at the bedsheets, moaning loudly as Kevin overtook his body.

Strong hands grasped his hips. Justin cried out in startled pleasure as Kevin jerked him up and back, onto his hands and knees, ass snug to Kevin’s groin. Oh, oh, oh. Afterbursts of pleasure warmed Justin as he curled his fingers into the sheets. Kevin was going to fuck him hard tonight. It was all Justin could do not to beg for it.

Kevin pulled back and slammed into him roughly. Justin shouted with pleasure. Kevin did it again and he cried out again, louder with each successive jolt, rocking back into Kevin’s thrusts. Fire burned through him, passion coursed through him, and he could hear Kevin’s harsh, rhythmic breaths mixed in with grunts of pleasure. Kevin’s hands were on his hips, jerking his body forward and backward, yanking him over Kevin’s erection.

Then Kevin slammed him back and held him there.

Justin moaned, begging. Kevin was coming in him. Kevin’s seed was deep inside his body. He was filled up with it, overflowing. Kevin had chosen him for this.

Kevin pulled out carelessly, leaving the bed. Justin rolled over quickly, making his body cooperate, getting up. “You don’t have to go.”

“I don’t want to stay,” Kevin said. “Get back on the bed.”

What? Was-

Kevin grabbed his upper arm in a harsh grip, roughly shoving him down onto the bed. “Learn to obey.”

Justin choked on his own breath, resuming his earlier position on his hands and knees, head down. Obey. Obey. He kept fighting Kevin tonight, and that wasn’t good. Kevin shouldn’t have to yell at him. Kevin shouldn’t have to reprimand him. Kevin shouldn’t have to get rough with him. He knew better. He was a bitch, but he didn’t have to be a stupid bitch. Kevin was right; he had to learn to obey. What was he complaining about? Kevin had fucked him. Kevin had come inside him. What else did he want? Wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t that everything?

“Don’t move.”

Justin closed his eyes and held so still he was barely breathing. He knew that tone of voice. He’d disobeyed that voice before, and he’d suffered for it. He tried to take slow, calming breaths. Slow, calming breaths. Obey. Inhale. Kevin. Exhale. Obey. Inhale. Kevin. Exhale.

He heard the door open, and he listened closely for any more sounds. Was Kevin leaving? Was-

AJ. If Kevin was leaving, he’d be alone with AJ. Alone with AJ, posed on the bed like an open invitation. But if Kevin was leaving, Kevin would say something to let him know. And as soon as Kevin left, if AJ came anywhere close to him, he’d make AJ regret it.

There were mysterious noises. Shuffling. Breathing. He opened his eyes, but everything was happening behind him. He didn’t dare turn his head and look, but he had to know what was going on back there. Kevin was still in the room, he was sure of it, but so was AJ, and Justin couldn’t handle that. Being spread naked like a common trick in front of Kevin was one thing; he’d done worse in front of Kevin long ago. But in front of AJ? With Kevin’s cum trickling out of his exposed ass? Justin tightened his grip on the bedclothes, shutting his eyes, struggling to keep his pose. Learn to obey. Learn to obey. Learn to obey. Learn to obey.

The sound of a zipper. Kevin was getting dressed. Kevin was going to leave him. What if Kevin told AJ to fuck him? He obeyed Kevin, but he wasn’t going to hold this pose for AJ. No fucking way. This was bad enough; he wasn’t about to let it get worse.

Another zipper. Kevin taking his pants off? AJ taking his pants off? What was happening?! There were odd, muted noises, sounds he couldn’t identify.

“How’s that?” Kevin asked. He sounded almost amused. Justin’s heart lurched in his chest at the sound of Kevin’s voice. It established firmly that Kevin was still present. Now Kevin could rescue him. Save him. Please.

“Always good.” Justin blinked. There was something low and distinctly sexual about AJ’s tone. AJ wasn’t, they weren’t, Kevin and AJ weren’t - - then again, those unidentified noises might have been sex-related. No, no, Kevin and AJ weren’t doing each other, no way, they-

There were hands on Justin’s hips, someone coming in behind him on the bed, hands that weren’t Kevin’s, and immediately he-

“Stay down.” Kevin’s voice backhanded him into submission. That tone was the furious, “don’t make me raise my voice” one. It was a warning that if he stepped out of line, he’d suffer Kevin’s wrath, and Kevin’s wrath was cruel.

But Justin couldn’t stay down! AJ was behind him, about to fuck him, he knew that was what was about to happen and it was fucking not going to happen. He’d do anything for Kevin, but he couldn’t do this. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want this!

“You’re going to think of AJ as me,” Kevin said. “You never say no to me; you never say no to AJ. You obey me; you obey him. Is that clear?”

He’d do anything for Kevin.

He had to learn to obey.

He’d do anything Kevin asked. Forget outright asking; he’d do anything Kevin wanted. He’d learned that, proved it, long ago. It was like his mantra: whatever Kevin wanted, Kevin got. What it cost him to keep Kevin happy, didn’t matter. He was no one, he was nothing, and Kevin was everything. He was a useless cunt, and cunts were only good for fucking, and if Kevin wanted him to be fucked, it was what he was there for. It didn’t matter if it was Kevin or AJ or anyone, anything else.

At the first crude push of fingers, Justin lowered his head, closing his eyes. He could do this for Kevin. He would do anything for Kevin. Kevin had told him to stay down. Kevin had told him to obey AJ. He’d do whatever Kevin asked of him. It was only his body, and his body was worthless. Kevin had told him so; Kevin had told him so thoroughly he couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten. His body was worthless. AJ’s use of it meant nothing.

With AJ’s first, rough thrust, Justin bit into his lower lip, his entire body braced and tense. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. With the second thrust, anger was rising fast within him. Who the hell did AJ think he fucking was?! AJ had called Kevin, and Kevin had come over, and they’d decided to fuck him. Without asking him. Without consulting him. They’d decided for him what was going to happen to him tonight. His ass wasn’t AJ’s to decide what to do with. Since when did AJ get to fucking dictate what happened to him? Kevin, yes, Kevin had that right, Kevin had always had that right, but who in hell was AJ? AJ couldn’t walk into his house, into his bedroom, and decide to fuck him like he was AJ’s fucking property.

AJ was still thrusting, dick pistoning and plunging, and Justin was going to lose it any second now. He just had to get through it, just get through it and it would be over, it would be over soon and then he’d be fine, once he made it through this everything would be okay again because Kevin would see. He loved Kevin, and he was obedient, and he’d do anything for Kevin, and now Kevin would know that, and everything would be okay. “Kevin,” he said, his voice rough and desperate and edged with fury aimed anywhere but at Kevin. “Kevin-”

“AJ’s staying with you,” Kevin said, coming to stand by the bed, close enough for Justin to see if he craned his neck up. He was fully dressed, and speaking as though Justin weren’t being fucked by his best friend right in front of him. “He’ll sleep here tonight.”

AJ, AJ, no, no, he couldn’t. Stay? Never! No! “I want you,” Justin said. “Please, Kevin.” He pulled at Kevin’s shirt, because if he had to be fucked by AJ for Kevin, he wanted Kevin to be the one still with him in the morning.

Kevin pushed him away like his touch was filthy. “Do whatever AJ says. Give him whatever he wants. Learn to obey for once in your life. He won’t be as nice to you as I am.” Kevin reached for something, and then the tape from the camera was in his hand. “If AJ ever has to call me again, it’ll prove how little respect you have for any of us, and I’ll never speak to you again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Justin said, desperately vowing to cooperate. This horrible, hated thrusting wouldn’t end. The hatred in Kevin’s eyes burned him. “Kevin?”

“What is it?” Kevin asked, irritated.

“I love you.” He knew he looked pathetic and miserable and weak, but he meant it too much to stop himself from saying it.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” Kevin said, and left, long-legged stride carrying him out of Justin’s view, out of Justin’s life.

Kevin was gone.

AJ jerked out of him, and he felt the sudden, awful hot spurt of fresh cum on the backs of his thighs. Justin froze in horror, the shock of it finally hitting him. AJ had fucked him. AJ had fucked him. Against his wishes, in front of Kevin.

He whirled around, landing on his ass, fists ready.

AJ was gone.

He was alone.

Tense, Justin waited.

Silence.

Nothing.

JC had thought that he was driving home. When he’d veered off-course, he’d told himself that he was simply driving around. When he got close enough to the most significant geographical landmark in his life, he couldn’t deny his destination.

He parked in Nick’s driveway.

There were no lights on.

He should go home.

He got out and walked up to the front door.

He should go home.

He missed Nick. It hurt. It hadn’t used to hurt like this. He’d been able to lie to himself, before. Now that he’d faced a few realities and seen Joey with Nick, he couldn’t lie anymore.

He rang the bell.

He waited.

Nick had to be home.

Nick had to be alone.

The door opened. Nick, half-dressed, disheveled. “JC?”

JC wanted to plaster himself to Nick’s body and lose himself in Nick’s embrace. “Can I come in?”

“It’s late, baby. You should go home.”

Nick was often very nice to him, these days. Nick had taken pity on him, after the…humiliation. Nick was being kind to him, now, pet name and all, and JC tried not to reveal his pain. Nick was good to him. He shouldn’t expect more.

“What the hell,” Nick said, apparently to himself. “It’s okay, come on in. Ashley won’t come near here, and if he does, we’ll say you’re visiting Joey.”

“Joey’s here?” JC asked. That didn’t make sense. Why would Nick invite him in if Joey were there?

“He’s in one of the other rooms. Come on back.”

He didn’t want to embarrass Joey, or himself, but he couldn’t refuse the invitation. He followed Nick to the bedroom with his heart in his throat.

Nick reached past JC, pushing the door shut. The room was dark; JC could make out Nick undressing himself as his eyes adjusted. “It’s okay, get in,” Nick said, laying down on the bed.

JC stripped quickly, coming around to the other side of the bed naked, sliding in beside Nick. Nick shifted closer, draping his arm across JC’s waist, and JC seized the opportunity to press against Nick’s body, soaking in the feel, the scent, the heat. Nick rolled him slightly, settling one heavy thigh over his, weighing down his side. JC breathed softly, weaving his fingers into Nick’s hair, feeling the soft crush of Nick’s pubic hair against his thigh, the soft weight of Nick’s genitals.

This was where JC had wanted to be. This was where JC wanted to stay.

He closed his eyes, listening to Nick’s even, deep breaths.

Maybe, in the morning, they could make love.

AJ would be back. He knew it, he knew it because Kevin had said it. AJ was spending the night. In his house, in his bed, assuming full rights to his body and his obedience.

AJ had fucked him as a transfer of power. AJ was supposed to take Kevin’s place now. But no one, no one, could take Kevin’s place.

He was not going to obey AJ. He was going to fuck AJ up for even fucking touching him.

Disobeying AJ meant disobeying Kevin. He couldn’t do that. But he couldn’t obey AJ, either. That was bullshit, AJ was nobody. He’d let Kevin do to him whatever Kevin wanted to do, but he was not at AJ McLean’s fucking beck and call.

He was dirty. He was filthy. He wanted to rip away his skin, escape this ruined body. He hadn’t said no, hadn’t fought it, hadn’t denied AJ a thing. He’d consented to it, and he knew it. He hadn’t wanted it, but he’d been willing to let it happen. Hadn’t been willing to stop it. Just like he’d set up that videocamera. He kept setting up his own execution, knowingly, willingly, deliberately.

He hated himself, because Kevin had taught him to. He kept trying to destroy himself, because Kevin had taught him to want to. He was sick as hell, because Kevin wanted him to be.

Justin changed the sheets, and took a shower, and got into bed. He closed his eyes, and he cried as much of the shame out as he could, like bleeding out the poison. And then he whispered “I wish I didn’t love you” to Kevin, and meant it. And the voices in his head whispered his own hatred to himself, and meant that, too.

Continue on to part seven...

The incident between AJ and Justin is isolated, and not necessarily indicative of future events in "Sucker." If you're looking for darkfic or worse, this story won't fulfill your needs. If you're looking for lovefic, don't be scared away. Your day will come.

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I have a new series that's updated weekly. It's a bright, happy yin to the dark, sinister yang of "Sucker."

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