"Sucker"

Sucker

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Backstreet Boys/*NSYNC/O-Town

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

Continued from part sixty-seven

When the doorbell rang, Dan was the first one out of the room.

Erik turned off the music. “Five bucks says it’s Chris.”

Trevor wiped sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt. “Five on Brian.”

“Trevor!” Dan raced back into the room, eyes wide. “What the hell did you do to your car?”

“My car?” he repeated, taken by surprise. “It’s in the shop.”

Dan grinned. “Not anymore.”

What? Trevor hurried to the front door, followed by everyone else. On the front porch stood a man with a clipboard. In the street he saw a truck; in the driveway, a car.

That was not his car.

That was not his car!

“Trevor Penick?” the guy with the clipboard asked.

“What the fuck?” Erik asked behind him.

“Wow,” Ashley breathed. “That’s hot as shit. Trevor, man, you’re so in!”

“In where?” Jacob asked.

“With a car like that?” Erik asked. “Pretty much anywhere.”

“Is that… That’s not my car,” Trevor said. “My car’s…not that.”

“What’d you have them do to it?” Ashley asked. “Everything?”

“If you’re Trevor Penick, it’s yours,” clipboard guy said. “Show me some ID, sign right here, and I’m done.”

“Here,” Dan said, passing Trevor’s wallet forward.

“I didn’t pay for that,” Trevor said, handing over his driver’s license. “I don’t think that I can even afford that. I don’t-”

“It’s been paid for,” clipboard guy said, passing the license back, offering the clipboard and a pen.

“But I didn’t pay for it,” Trevor repeated.

“Someone else paid for this?” Ashley asked.

“Signature says ‘Richardson,’” the guy said.

Trevor’s pen skittered. “Richardson?”

“K. Richardson.” He took the clipboard back and handed Trevor the keys. “Enjoy the ride.” He left.

Trevor stared into the driveway.

“I would have sex with that car,” Erik declared.

“You would have sex with anything,” Jacob said.

“Kevin?” Ashley asked. “Trevor, did Kevin fix up your car?”

“Come on!” Erik said, heading for the driveway, dragging Trevor along. “Let’s check it out!”

“He didn’t,” Trevor said, elated and anxious and thrilled and disbelieving and overwhelmed. “He didn’t.”

Erik took the keys from him, unlocking it. “Somebody did.” Opening the driver’s door, Erik leaned inside. “Damn!”

Dressed, Lance sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Howie’s hair. He didn’t want to leave.

A quick laugh. “You used to love my hair.” Howie smiled, inviting him to remember, as if he could ever forget. “You used to play with it all of the time.”

“It was beautiful,” he said quietly. The sleek fall of it, slipping like silk through his fingers.

A casual glance at the clock. “You should have left an hour ago.”

Would it ever be easy to leave Howie? Would walking away ever not hurt? He leaned down and kissed Howie’s gorgeous mouth.

“I’m glad you came,” Howie said. “I needed that. I don’t get it anymore except from you. I almost wish that it were part of the game for Erik to fuck me.”

It was like Howie had smacked him across the face. His thoughts in chaos, Lance stared in shock. What in hell had Howie just said to him?! Was he just a convenient dick? Was Howie comparing him to Estrada? Had Howie just - - “Him?! I know how to give you everything you want!” Lance protested. “The only guy he’s ever fucked is JC!”

“JC seems to think that he does a pretty good job,” Howie said. “Apparently he has incredible fingers.”

Every retort that popped into Lance’s head was either extremely degrading to JC or almost as degrading to Howie. Snapping his mouth shut, he tried not to scream. Erik didn’t love Howie. Erik didn’t know Howie. Erik didn’t give a fuck about Howie. Erik didn’t know how to treat a man. Erik didn’t know what Howie needed. Erik was no fucking match for Lance in any damned realm, but especially, especially, not when it came to Howie.

How many times had he touched Howie? How many times had his fingers alone coaxed Howie into begging, into writhing, into orgasm? Erik didn’t know how to give Howie the subtle, slow stroking that made his toes curl. Erik didn’t know how to gauge when Howie needed just one more finger to push him over the edge. Erik didn’t know how to judge Howie’s moans for when to keep going or when to switch to dick. Erik didn’t know how to tease Howie open or how to make Howie’s back arch, how to make Howie sweat, how to make Howie twist and threaten and scream.

Had Erik ever caressed Howie’s prostate until he was shivering and inarticulate? Did Erik even know how to make Howie come? Or was the bumbling idiot just flailing around until orgasm happened? Could Erik make Howie moan loud and high and breathy with just his tongue and the sound of his voice?

Had Lance just gone through hours of making love to Howie, making steamy passionate love, just to be told that he could easily and conveniently be replaced by Erik?!

Erik’s fingers? Erik didn’t know how to touch a man. Lance doubted that Erik knew how to touch a woman. Lance was surprised that Erik was functional enough to touch himself.

Lance didn’t know what JC looked for in a lover. Didn’t know what JC liked. Didn’t know what Erik could do. But he knew exactly what made Howie respond. He’d learned Howie, he’d learned every nuance of Howie’s sexuality. He knew how to bring Howie to the brink and keep him there, keep the ecstasy simmering and hovering and vibrating until Howie was bucking and begging and crying out for release. He knew how to draw it out, how to make it linger, how to extend the pleasure until Howie was twitching and shuddering on each breath. He knew how to slam Howie right into orgasm, how to deliver it so fast, so suddenly, that Howie never saw it coming but couldn’t let it go.

He’d used to be able to make Howie laugh, make Howie smile, make Howie happy. Sometimes he didn’t know how to talk to Howie anymore. But he’d always know how to make Howie come. He knew the secrets of Howie’s body far, far better than Erik ever could.

There were certain things that worked universally. All guys naturally responded to the basic tricks. But Howie wasn’t common. Making love to Howie took a lot of specific moves, a lot of experience, a lot of split-second judgment calls. Lance had to plan ahead, react to Howie’s cues, anticipate Howie’s needs, and study Howie’s mood.

At the moment, Howie’s expression told him to leave.

He cupped Howie’s chin in his hand, lifting it, studying Howie’s face. “You have JC convinced that you’re exclusively a top. Erik thinks the same thing.” Howie’s expression told him nothing. “You can’t get Erik to fuck you without changing your story, and how would JC feel about that?” A calm smile from Howie. “It’ll never happen, and you know it. You’re saying complete bullshit just to fuck with me, because you refuse to let me walk out of here happy.”

“You should know better than to say that something will never happen.” Howie gently twisted free of Lance’s grasp. “I’m not fucking with you, Lance. I’m telling you the truth.”

Lance couldn’t believe him. “You wouldn’t speak the truth at gunpoint.”

A slight head tilt. “Is that what you think?”

He wanted to scream, wanted to yell and shout, wanted to lash out and even strike Howie, just to get a reaction, just to get some truth. “Do you want me to hate you?” he demanded. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

A few, slow blinks. “Hate me?” Howie asked. “Is that how you feel? Do you hate me?”

“I love you!” Lance shouted. “I love you! You twisted-”

“Ah,” Howie said, and the touch of a fingertip to Lance’s lips instantly silenced his voice. His throat closed up on him. “I don’t think that you want to finish that sentence.”

Howie didn’t want to be called names? Howie didn’t want to be yelled at? Howie expected to say and do anything, no matter what, and get away with it?

Of course he did. He always had.

Howie held his gaze.

Lance’s heartbeat stuttered in confusion. What did Howie want from him?

Instead of dropping, Howie’s finger slid over Lance’s lips, tracing their shape. “If you were capable of hating me,” Howie said, his voice soft and private, “you would have given in to that a long time ago.”

He couldn’t hate Howie. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He loved Howie too much. He’d lost so much and Howie had done so much damage and he’d gone through everything for no damned reason at all… But he still loved Howie. There was no room for hatred in his heart. Howie was his heart.

It all made him feel so helpless…

Howie’s hand slid back to his neck and Howie rose to kneel, kissing him, slow and open-mouthed, stroking tongue to tongue. Immediately, heat spread through his body, heat and desire, desire and lust.

When Howie’s kiss ended, and Lance’s eyes opened, Howie was still right there, so close Lance lived in the depth of his gaze.

“I did you a favor.” Howie’s fingers trailed along his jaw, then dropped. “I made them see who you really are. Now you know who truly loves you.”

Lance’s mind spun.

Gracefully, languidly, Howie sat back. “You’d better go. Erik’s coming over today. We have some surprises in store for JC.”

A favor. Howie had done him a favor. Howie had exposed him and humiliated him and alienated him from his family, and called that a favor? What his family had seen, what his family had said to him, what his family thought of him now - - that was a favor?

The fact that for all intents and purposes he had no family now? That was a favor?

Howie’s expression revealed nothing.

Now you know who truly loves you.

He did.

And it wasn’t Howie.

Spinners.

Deep, royal blue paint with a pearl finish that swirled in the sunlight.

Chrome fenders.

A completely new sound system. Touch-screen radio. A TV monitor in the front, more in the headrests. Massive speakers and subwoofers in the trunk. A hundred-disc changer. Extra-large tires. New upholstery, tan and white, in butter-soft leather. Blinking lights in the grill spelling out his name. A halo of blue neon along the bottom. A remote that controlled everything.

“Fuck me,” Erik said, staring.

“This is insane,” Ashley said. “This is out of control. This is the hottest car I’ve ever touched!”

“This is so fucking pimped out!” Erik exclaimed.

“The spinners are hot,” Dan admitted.

Jacob shook his head. “You can’t accept it.”

“Out of control,” Ashley repeated, walking around to the other side.

“That’s us!” Erik exclaimed from the passenger seat. “Shit! That’s us! He put our concert in the DVD player!”

Reaching across Erik, Jacob switched the monitors off, wrenching the key from the ignition. “You cannot accept this! What is this? A gift from your lover’s ex? What are you going to tell Chris?”

Trevor hadn’t even managed to process the fact that Kevin had tripped out his car. He had no idea what to do with it.

“Why did he do this?” Jacob asked. “Why would he do this? Out of the goodness of his heart?”

“To get some ass,” Erik said. “I don’t know, man, I think you should give it to him. He didn’t just get you rims, he got you spinners! And this paint job, it doesn’t get any better than this.”

“You could probably hear that bass for miles,” Dan said.

“This is not a gift from a friend,” Jacob said. “Friends don’t do this. He wants something from you, and if you give a shit about Chris-”

“Kevin doesn’t want anything from me! I told him-” Trevor snapped his mouth shut. He and Kevin had talked yesterday. Kevin had approved all of this before their conversation. Kevin had set this into motion before calling him, before they’d talked.

Was this what Kevin had wanted? This kind of relationship? The kind of friendship where they were more than friends?

Kevin wanted him. Kevin wanted him, but he’d turned Kevin down, and now he had a car in his driveway that Kevin probably regretted paying for.

He’d have to give it back. Or offer to pay Kevin back.

Kevin had to be pissed, after spending all of this money on someone who’d rejected him. Damn, Trevor had fucked up.

“You are not-”

“Jacob, shut up,” Erik said. “Trevor, you can’t lose this car. This is the hottest car any one of us has ever had. Look at how tripped out this is! Your car has fucking neon that lights up the road under it! It looks like it’s fucking floating!”

“These speakers are enormous,” Ashley said. “I love the lights in the grill.”

“They spell your fucking name!” Erik exclaimed. “Your name is on your car in blinking lights! And you’re going to give it back?!”

“This car is on point,” Dan said. “I feel cool just standing near it.”

“Imagine what it’s like to drive this!” Erik said. “Rolling down the road with the bass thumping, the lights, the neon, the spinners.”

“Yeah, Trevor,” Jacob said sarcastically. “Now you can get as much pussy as you want. Nothing turns a real woman on more than something that looks like it’s moving even when it’s not.”

“Hell, I’d be your bitch,” Erik said.

“I’m not trying to get laid,” Trevor said, wanting them both to shut up. This car was so pimped out it was practically giving him a hard-on. Eric was getting him even more excited, and it was hard to think. But he knew that he couldn’t keep the car. He didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t accept a gift like this from someone who’d given it under different circumstances. And how would he explain it to Chris?

It pissed him off that Jacob was trying to force him to do the right thing, like he had no morals and couldn’t make the right decision himself. Of course Jacob could afford to be self-righteous and judgmental about it, since Jacob didn’t stand to lose anything. Trevor was about to lose either the best car ever or an almost-boyfriend; he knew how fucked up the situation was, and didn’t need Jacob pressuring him into the choice.

He wanted this car. He loved this car. Lights, sound, motion, it was its own complete experience just sitting still. He could only imagine what it was like to get behind the wheel and just drive.

He had to keep this car.

But he couldn’t accept it.

Whether Trevor liked it or not, Jacob was right.

But, damn, Erik was right, too.

“What are you going to do?” Ashley asked, concerned for him.

“I don’t know,” Trevor confessed, frustrated. He was conflicted between a desire to get the car away from the house before Chris saw it, and an urge to climb on top and hump it.

“Well,” Dan said, “maybe before you make your final decision, you should talk to Kevin.”

Yesterday’s scrambled eggs had been both runny and burnt; today’s omelet was watery, if that was even possible. “Can you cook anything?” Joey asked, pushing his plate aside and trying the burnt toast.

“No,” Nick said like it didn’t bother him one way or the other. “But I can mix the hell out of a drink.”

Really? “I didn’t know that.” He doubted that it was true, but he appreciated the attempt. He grinned. “You want to mix me something?”

Nick grinned back at him. “I’d love to, sweetness. But not right now. Right now, you have to go pick up Angel and bring him home for a day of love and affection.”

“It would be easier if I could just show up, fuck him, and move on.”

“He’s not a booty call,” Nick said. “He’s the potential love of your life. You’re in love with him. You have to be good to him, be considerate and respectful, actually listen when he talks, all of that shit.”

Hell, it wouldn’t be that bad. He liked looking at Ashley, anyway. And they’d had a good time together, before they’d started fucking. Besides, he really did have to be nice to Ashley, after the way he’d acted lately. “I’ll do my best.”

Nick smirked. “It’d help if you spent a couple minutes acting interested in him as a person before you whip out your dick.”

“Before I whip it out? He’s the one who grabs it.”

“Poor, helpless you,” Nick said. “Okay, then, let him make the first move.” Nick gave him a knowing look. “Saying ‘hello’ is not making a move.”

Joey grinned. “It is when Ashley does it.”

He sent everyone else back inside. Jacob warned him to do the right thing; Ashley, Dan, and especially Erik seemed reluctant to leave the car.

He understood. It was one hot-ass car.

Getting in after taking off his shoes first, he stroked the upholstery.

He couldn’t believe that this was his car, both in the sense that it belonged to him, and in the sense that it bore almost no resemblance to the car he’d sent in to the shop. His baby had undergone a seriously wicked transformation.

He couldn’t let this car go. He couldn’t!

He could try to pay Kevin back for it, but damn, that would involve some major cash. How much did that neon cost, anyway?

He wanted to put off calling, but he had to come to a decision before Chris showed up. With some trepidation, he dialed.

“Hello?”

Damn. He’d almost hoped that Kevin wouldn’t answer. “Hi. This is Trevor.”

“Trevor.” Kevin’s voice got a lot friendlier. Warmer, happier. “What can I do for you?”

Why in hell did he have that effect on Kevin Richardson?! “I… There’s this car in my driveway.”

“Is there?” Kevin sounded like he was smiling. “I thought that your car was in the shop.”

Either Kevin was teasing him, which was crazy in and of itself, or Kevin really didn’t know and someone else was behind it. But who the hell else - - Chris? Except Chris wouldn’t sign Kevin’s name. “It was, and it’s back now, and it looks…fucking amazing. I’m sitting inside it right now not even going anywhere, and I feel like a pimp. This, this car is insane.”

“I’m glad you got it back,” Kevin said. “It was terrible, what happened to it.”

“The, uh, the thing is… It came back looking a lot better than it went in, but I didn’t pay for all of that. The guy who brought it here said that you did.”

“Whoever trashed your car did it while it was parked in my driveway. I felt partially responsible, so I called the garage and asked what could be done to make up for it.”

“This is… This more than makes up for it.” Wow. Kevin really had done this. It wasn’t just a good theory; it was true. The nervous excitement in Trevor’s stomach bubbled faster. “But you’re not responsible for what happened. You didn’t have to do this. It’s, wow, I mean… This is probably the best thing that anyone’s ever given me, but I can’t…”

“It’s a gift,” Kevin said, his voice soft but still pleased. “I want you to enjoy it.”

“But we’re not… I’m with Chris, and - - that doesn’t…” Could he fuck this up more? “I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve a lot of things.”

“You haven’t even done this to your own car.”

Amused laughter. “It’s not my style. But I’m glad that you like it. That’s all I wanted. Even if we can’t…be friends, the way I might have wanted, I don’t regret a cent of it. I’d do it again. I don’t want you to see this as a bribe or anything but a gift of…gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” Trevor repeated, bewildered. Kevin? Grateful? To him?

“I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. You really put yourself out for me, and helped me a lot, and I want to thank you for that. I,” pause, “enjoyed your company.”

Damn, that pause, that killed him. “I didn’t do any of that to get something back. I did it because I wanted to.” He’d do more if he could, but…

“I understand that.”

“I love this car. I really love this car. I have nothing but love for this car.”

“Good,” Kevin said. “That’s what I wanted.”

“But I can’t - - I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I-”

“The lights on the front say ‘Trevor,’ not ‘Kevin.’ No one has to know that I had anything to do with it.”

Grateful that Kevin understood, Trevor still hesitated. “I shouldn’t lie about something this big.”

“I didn’t do it to get national recognition. I did it for you. As long as you like it, I’m finished on my end. You sent the car to the shop, not me. They delivered it to you, not me.”

It would be dishonest, but he’d get to keep the car. “You’d be okay with that? If I told people that I had this done myself?”

“Absolutely.”

Kevin had no qualms. Why should he? “Thank you. I owe you so much for this.”

“I think that we’re about even,” Kevin said.

This didn’t feel right, but he wanted this car so badly… “Hanging wallpaper does not equal out to TV’s in my headrests.”

“But it does sound like you’re about as happy as you made me. Maybe we can consider this a…parting gift.”

Trevor couldn’t believe that he’d broken up with someone who was this into him. And that “someone” just happened to be Kevin Richardson. “I don’t know whether to thank you or apologize or what.”

“As long as you enjoy the car, that’s all the thanks I want. And there’s nothing to apologize for.”

Trevor kind of loved Kevin. “I don’t think you know how perfect you are.”

Kevin laughed. “I’m not perfect. I also don’t think that you know how great you are. But thank you.”

Damn. Even more perfect. Why was it that every time they talked, Trevor got more and more clues that Kevin wanted to…be his boyfriend? What the hell was that about? How did these things happen? Sure, he practically had Chris Kirkpatrick and Kevin Richardson fighting over him, that made sense. What the fuck? “I can’t believe I have this car. I can’t believe you did this.”

“It was my pleasure. Enjoy it.”

“I will,” Trevor said fervently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kevin said. “Good-bye, Trevor.”

“Bye.” Damn. Wow. Trevor hung up, getting out. He stared at the car.

His car.

The truth of it finally began to sink in. He finally let himself see the car as his. His car, his own. This was his car. The car he drove to Chris’s house, to the store, around town, this was it. This was his car. That gorgeous blue paint, that neon, those speakers, this was his car!

The shouting, screaming, jumping phase hit first. By the time the other guys came back outside, he was on his knees, kissing the paint with tears in his eyes. Dan and Ashley crawled inside, playing with the remote control; Erik asked if he was really going to keep it and if they could drive around downtown for a while and pick up girls.

“What are you going to tell Chris?” Jacob asked.

“Oh my god, this is hot!” Ashley exclaimed as JC’s remix of “Favorite Girl” started, the bass strong enough to vibrate Trevor’s bones.

Getting up, Trevor faced Jacob. “I’m going to tell Chris that I had this done.”

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t.”

Well, duh. “It’s from Kevin, but he and I just talked about it. I’d never hurt Chris, and Kevin knows it. Kevin understands that, he wants me to be happy, he wants me to be happy with Chris. He did this before he knew that Chris and I got back together, but he knows we’re together now, and he’s…backing off.”

Jacob’s mouth opened.

“If I do anything else to hurt Chris, if you catch me screwing around with someone else or anything, then you can jump all over me, that’s fine, I’ll deserve it. But right now I’m all about Chris, and Kevin knows that, and it’s all good. Everything’s really good with Chris right now, we’re solid, and I don’t want to fuck that up.”

“So you’re accepting ridiculous gifts from other men,” Jacob said.

“He didn’t know that I was with Chris. He does now. He wants me to have this, but he doesn’t want anything else.”

Jacob didn’t look at all satisfied.

“What do you want?” Trevor demanded. “I love Chris. Chris knows that, Kevin knows that, you know that. It’s a car - - it’s not even a car, it’s car accessories. Bigger tires and a bunch of flashing lights. Kevin can afford it, he probably didn’t think twice about it. It’s something he did for me as a friend because, in case you forgot, my car got fucked up when it was in his driveway. He felt responsible, so he did this because it’s his version of making it up to me.” Damn it, why was he explaining this to Jacob? “I don’t know why you think that you can decide what I should do. This doesn’t even involve you! Whatever your problem is, you’d better keep it to yourself, because I’m not letting anybody, not Kevin and not you, fuck this up for me. Chris and I just got back together after I felt like I had my heart ripped right out of my chest. I’m not losing him again.”

Thanks to the loud music, not everyone had heard his little rant, but Dan had come out of the car and was looking concerned.

“I don’t know,” Dan said. “I’m not trying to tell you all about your own business, but if you can’t tell Chris the truth about your own car, that’s not a good sign.”

“He already has Kevin issues from before. That’s why we were apart. I already lost him over that, once. You think that I’d risk that again? If I tell him that I was helping out Kevin and Kevin did this for me, it’ll… I don’t know what it’ll do, but it won’t be good. But that’s all over, now, it’s not an issue anymore at all. I don’t see Kevin anymore, and he understands about me and Chris. It would open up a whole new can of worms that’s not even relevant now.”

“So your choices are, refuse the car, accept the car and be honest about it, or accept the car and lie about it.” Jacob’s expression was displeased. “You’ve chosen to have your cake and eat it, too.”
“That’s right, my choices, not yours,” Trevor said forcefully. “I’ve chosen to have a car and Chris. The car is mine whether or not it has spinners, and Chris is closer to being mine than he’s ever been.”

“You looked pretty cozy last night,” Dan admitted.

Trevor blushed. “Sorry about that. We thought you were all sleeping.”

“No, it was good. I’m glad you’re together.”

“Thanks.” And they’d stay together. As long as Chris never found out who’d paid for those speakers.

Perfect, beautiful, Brian. Chris’s heart twisted into itself.

“Pet,” Brian murmured, his eyes still closed.

“Yes?” Chris asked immediately, his voice quiet out of respect for Brian’s rest.

“I have to go soon. Kevin’s going to need you.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Chris said, desperation rising. “Please don’t go.”

“Come here so I can hold you before I go.” A hint of blue showed beneath Brian’s lashes as one hand reached out, wrapping around Chris’s upper arm and urging him closer.

Right away, Chris pressed in close to Brian’s body, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, wrapping his arms around Brian as Brian’s arm came around him. Brian’s other hand snuck between their bodies, palm pressed directly over Chris’s heart. Hooking his chin over Brian’s shoulder, Chris closed his eyes.

Brian breathed with him. It seemed entirely effortless on Brian’s part, but Chris suspected that it was deliberate. Brian liked to breathe with him, inhaling and exhaling in perfect synchronization. Sometimes he wondered if Brian got something out of it.

Brian liked to feel his heartbeat, too. Sometimes Brian whispered along with it, almost hypnotized by the rhythm, like the beat of it said something to Brian that Chris didn’t recognize.

Since Brian was breathing with him, he was breathing with Brian, too. He liked that. It made him feel closer to Brian, and that was always important. He could feel the rise and fall of Brian’s chest against his own.

“You scared Lance,” Brian said softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“You haven’t done that in a long time.”

If by “done that” Brian meant “vomit and pass out,” then no, he hadn’t. “I haven’t needed to.”

Brian breathed with him.

He whispered “I love you” a few times.

Brian stroked his back. “I didn’t want you to get sick again, so I threw out that bad milk for you.”

Brian took great care of him. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“I want you to be healthy and safe.”

“I love you.”

Brian’s voice was soft and warm. “I love you, too.”

His phone rang. No! He couldn’t let Brian go!

“It’s okay, pet,” Brian said quietly, rubbing his spine. “I won’t leave while you’re on the phone.”

The person calling might be Kevin. He couldn’t ignore Kevin’s call. Kevin wouldn’t like it, and neither would Brian. He couldn’t pull away from Brian first, couldn’t initiate a separation, but when Brian eased back and gently pushed at him, he swallowed and released Brian, getting up and finding his phone. “Kirkpatrick,” he said, watching Brian sit up.

“Go to the Townhouse,” Kevin said. “Go along with whatever Trevor tells you. I want to see you today. I’ll call later.”

“Okay.” Kevin hung up; he hung up, too. “Please stay.”

“I have things to do,” Brian said, getting up, leaving his bed. “And my love doesn’t like how much time I spend away from him.”

“He doesn’t love you like I do.”

“He’ll learn.” Pulling off his T-shirt, Brian handed it over. Chris immediately put it to his nose, inhaling Brian’s scent. Brian kissed his cheek and got dressed.

“I love the way you smell. You smell delicious. Please don’t go.” Brian kept putting on clothes. “That’s Justin’s shirt.”

“I had on two of Kevin’s, and Justin wanted them, so we traded.”

Oh. “Please take one of mine. Do you want this one? I don’t want you to be cold.” Brian needed more layers than other people.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“I don’t think about anything else.”

Brian smiled at him and kissed his other cheek this time. “I’ll see you later, pet.”

Chris wanted to cry. Loss hurt, and losing Brian was the worst loss of all. “Please don’t leave me.”

“We’ll be together again soon,” Brian said. “I promise.”

Brian was so beautiful and so good to him… “I love you.”

“I love you, too, pet.” Brian kissed him, once, on the lips. “Go do what Kevin wants.”

He followed Brian to the front door.

He followed Brian outside.

At the car, Brian turned to him with a quick laugh. “Pet, you can’t come with me.” A smile; Brian leaned closer, whispering. “You don’t have clothes on.”

He’d forgotten that he was in his underwear. He wanted to ask Brian to stay, but Brian had promised that they’d be together again soon. He wanted to go with Brian, but he wasn’t allowed. “I love you.”

“Bye, pet.” Brian got in. The engine started. Chris didn’t want him to leave. Brian blew him a kiss and drove away.

Chris sat down.

Brian had been in his house, in his bed, in his shirt.

Brian had kissed his mouth and breathed with him and said, “I love you.”

They’d be together again soon.

He lost time, but when he heard a bird nearby he blinked back to the present.

“Go do what Kevin wants.”

Getting to his feet, Chris went inside to get dressed. He had to go to the Townhouse. Kevin wanted him to.

Parking in Howie’s driveway, Erik got out and looked at his car. Boring as hell. He couldn’t believe that Kevin had just done that to Trevor’s car. They weren’t even fucking. Or, if they had, they weren’t anymore.

The Boys sure were generous with their money.

*NSYNC didn’t seem to come off of it as easily. Kevin pimped out Trevor’s car; Chris gave him a stuffed platypus. Jacob had those earrings from Brian, and all Ashley had from Joey was that hideous bust. Howie had bought Erik clothes, a flat-screen, a bracelet; JC hadn’t given him anything. Then again, he and Howie kept going out shopping, and he and JC didn’t go out much.

Hell, it wasn’t like he gave them anything.

The only member of *NSYNC throwing around money seemed to be Justin, who’d given Dan all of those clothes. Then again, Dan was the only one returning the favor, buying that bracelet.

Erik wondered what he could get for Howie and JC. He practically owed Howie something, and he’d loved the look on JC’s face yesterday at seeing all of those flowers. He could definitely see the appeal in giving JC more gifts.

Yesterday had been amazing. And not just because they’d sixty-nined on the coffee table, which had been out of this world. But simply seeing JC’s reaction to the gifts had been terrific. JC had actually cried. He’d never seen JC cry before. He hadn’t expected that he’d ever see JC cry.

Putting that necklace on JC, seeing JC’s nape exposed like that, he’d been fascinated. JC’s skin had been smooth there, had looked so vulnerable, he’d wanted to kiss JC there. Even when JC had called him on it, he’d still wanted to linger.

Every inch of JC was sexy.

Every inch of JC was made to be worshipped.

Ringing Howie’s doorbell, Erik brought his thoughts back to the person he was about to see. He still had trouble reconciling the whole chocolate-flavored sex thing with reality. That had actually happened to him? It felt like a dream. A very vivid, very erotic dream. Just remembering Howie’s heat behind him, the rhythm and the friction, made him hard. Made him want to…

…open up for it.

Which completely freaked him out. Why did he want that? How could he be into that? What the hell had Howie done to him?

What had Howie done to him? From Howie’s perspective, what had that been? What had it meant?

The door opened. “Erik-Michael.” He loved Howie’s smile. “Did rehearsal end early?”

“We got interrupted by Trevor’s car. It’s back from the shop and it looks like they tricked it out with everything they could find.”

After closing the door, Howie kissed him. It was really deep and kind of slow and made him hot the whole way through. Cupping Howie’s ass in both hands, he lifted Howie against himself, moaning as Howie’s body pressed to his, Howie’s arms wrapping around his neck.

He loved coming to see Howie. He never knew whether to expect it or not, but sometimes Howie practically jumped him at the door, and damn, nothing got him hot like that. It was a huge turn-on to be wanted like this. And god knew he always wanted Howie.

“I want,” Howie breathed, kissing him.

Anything, anything Howie wanted. Erik kissed him harder, groaning at slide of Howie’s tongue.

His undershirt went into a special place. Brian had worn it.

The sheets were enshrined, too.

The only other thing that he was sure that Brian had touched was the doorknob to the front door. He wasn’t even sure that Brian had used the front door to come into the house, but he’d seen Brian leave with his own eyes, and Brian had touched the doorknob.

He went down onto his knees and licked it.

He had to leave. Kevin wanted him to; Brian wanted him to.

Brian had been here. Maybe someday Brian would come back.

Brian wasn’t here now. Brian might be at the Townhouse.

He was supposed to go to see Trevor. He was supposed to go along with whatever Trevor told him.

He was afraid to leave. Afraid that after he left, Brian might come back, and he’d miss it. But he had to go, because they wanted him to.

Brian couldn’t always be with him anymore. Brian had Jacob now, and Lance. They took up Brian’s time.

Maybe if there were no Jacob and no Lance, Brian would be with him more.

But maybe not. Maybe Brian would just find other people to put first.

He wasn’t first anymore. He couldn’t be. Brian didn’t want him to be.

He wasn’t interesting anymore. He’d already been broken.

Broken toys weren’t fun to play with.

Chris stopped chewing on his fingernails when he tasted blood.

He could still feel it. Pumping gently against his palm. Beating into him, echoing through his body. Chris’s heartbeat.

That steady rhythm. A little too fast; he had that effect on Chris.

He could still feel it. Rising and falling against his chest. Ghosting around him, warming his soul. Chris’s breath.

In and out, even patterns. A little too even; Chris wanted to breathe just right for him.

Chris in his arms again. The warmth of Chris’s body, so close they were almost one. Inhalation, exhalation, heartbeat.

He could still feel it.

Trevor was in the car with Dan, playing with the remote control, when he heard an engine. Checking the rearview mirror, he saw Chris pull into the drive.

“I’ll be inside,” Dan said.

“Okay.” While Dan left, Trevor watched Chris get out and study the car. Sucking in a deep breath, he opened the door, stepping out. “Hey.”

“I don’t know,” Chris said, walking around the car in a slow arc. “There’s something different about it. Did they wax it or something?”

He loved Chris and his stomach was in knots. “They just slapped some paint on it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Chris made a “hmm” noise. “They did a good job. It looks great.”

“Thanks.” He had his story ready, if Chris asked for details. He’d say that he had a friend at the shop who’d promised to hook him up, but he hadn’t expected anything like this. It was a complete lie, and it didn’t even sound plausible in his head, but maybe it would work.

Stroking the paint, Chris studied the car some more. “I like it. Let’s go for a drive.”

“Really?” He thought the car kicked ass, but he’d wondered if maybe Chris would think it was too much.

“Let me see your sound system. You got a remote?”

“Yeah, sure, here.” He handed it over, in love with Chris. Chris got in, poked around at the stereo, got out, looked at the speakers, went back to his own car and got some CD’s, put them in the 100-disc changer, and got back in the car. All of a sudden music filled the driveway, and the bass hit even harder than ever. “What’d you do?” he asked Chris.

“What?” Chris asked from the passenger seat.

“What’d you do?!” he shouted, getting in on the driver’s side.

Chris turned down the volume. “Just messed around with the equalizer. Let’s go.”

Okay. “Where?”

Chris grinned. “Anywhere you want.”

Looking even better than usual, Ashley wandered down into the living room. His pants clung to his thighs as he sat beside Dan on the sofa.

“Expecting someone?” Dan guessed, since Ashley didn’t wear cologne to sit around the house.

“Joey’s coming.” Ashley glanced at the book in Dan’s hands. “How many poems do you have memorized by now?”

“Either too many or not enough. They’re all getting jumbled up in my head.”

Ashley grinned. “Tell me one.”

“You want me to recite poetry to you?” How had he become the official poetry go-to guy?

Taking the book from his hands, Ashley said, “Go ahead.” Ashley’s smile dared him.

Okay. Rubbing his hands on his thighs, Dan searched back through his memory. There was one… How did it start? “Love is enough: though the world be a-waning…”

Ashley raised his eyebrows at “a-waning,” but nodded for him to keep going.

“And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining…” Dan felt ridiculous. “This is stupid. It sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid. I want to hear the rest of it,” Ashley said. “Don’t stop.”

He could use the practice. “You asked for it.” Where had he been? “Though the skies be too dark for dim eyes to discover…” Shit... “The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder…” What rhymed with that? “Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder…”

“I can’t believe this makes sense to me,” Ashley said.

“And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over…” Shit, what was the next rhyme? He only had three more lines to go. “Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter… The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter…” Dan realized that he was stroking Justin’s bracelet, and stopped. “These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.”

Ashley smiled. “That was great!”

“You liked it?”

“I liked the message. Love is enough.”

Well, that made sense. “Don’t tell anyone that I just recited love poetry to you. Next thing you know, they’ll all come around, wanting me to romance them, too.”

“You did a good job with it. And Justin’s lucky to have someone who cares this much about him, regardless of anything else.” The doorbell rang, and immediately Ashley looked in that direction.

Dan wanted to tell Ashley to be careful around Joey. He didn’t want Ashley to get hurt, and he didn’t trust Joey. If Joey was that callous about Justin, Dan had no reason to believe that Joey would ever look out for Ashley. But what could he really say to Ashley? Ashley was good, Ashley was giving, Ashley believed that love was enough.

“That might be Joey,” Ashley said, rising.

Maybe if he spoke Ashley’s language. “I love you, Ashley, we all do.”

Surprised, Ashley looked at him. “I love you, too.”

“We don’t mean to judge you, we just want you to be happy. This is a really complicated situation and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t want to get hurt,” Ashley said.

“The poem’s wrong,” Dan said. “Love isn’t enough. You need a lot more than that. You-”

“No,” Ashley said. “Love is enough. It can be, sometimes. No one said that it would be easy. But it can happen.”

God, Ashley. Dan wanted to be able to support him, but, “I just don’t-”

“I have to go,” Ashley said, turning away as the doorbell rang again. “I’ll see you later.”

Love wasn’t enough. Love couldn’t do it alone. It took more than that.

Didn’t it?

Continue on to part sixty-nine

The poem that Dan recites is “Love Is Enough” by William Morris, offered by Ellie on the Drewboard. Thank you!

matthew@matthewtime.com
"Sucker"
Boyslash
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