Sucker

Copyright November 24, 2002-November 26, 2004 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Backstreet Boys/*NSYNC/O-Town

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

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

Continued from part six...

        Erik closed his eyes, pretending that his hand was JC’s hand, pretending that JC was kissing him, Howie was kissing him, JC was about to go down on him - - oh, oh god, oh god, yes, yes, god, aaahhh…

        He moaned a little, relaxing.  God.  He wiped himself off with his boxers and dropped them to the floor, rolling over, closing his eyes, feeling boneless.

        God, that had been good.

        His sex life had turned into fantasy land.  He wondered what he had to do to get JC to give him head.

        He wondered what he had to do to get Howie to give him head.

        Ooohhh…now there was a nice thought…

        God, this just kept getting better and better.  It was almost…mmm…almost too good to be true…

        Justin felt the comforter being tugged aside.  Someone was getting into bed with him.  Kevin?  He rolled over to-

        AJ!  Justin jerked back at the unpleasant shock, feeling injured.

        “Can I get a pillow?”

        He had to cooperate.  Kevin wanted him to cooperate.  Murdering AJ wouldn’t be cooperating.  Learn to obey.  Learn to obey.  Learn to obey.  Justin handed AJ a pillow.

        “Thanks.”

        It was hard to see in the darkness, but he thought that AJ’s chest was bare.  The rest of AJ was under the sheet and blanket, and he wasn’t willing to touch to find out, but, “Are you naked?”

        “As a jaybird.”  AJ lay back.  “You can go back to sleep.”

        He wasn’t sure he could.  No, he was sure he couldn’t.  AJ had, god, he couldn’t even think it in his head without wanting to claw at his own flesh.  Justin lay down again, putting his back to AJ, tense, open-eyed.

        A touch at his back.  Fingers stroking his spine.  “Justin,” AJ said softly.

        He had to tolerate it.  He had to tolerate it.  He couldn’t beat AJ to death.  He had to live through this.  “What.”

        “Kiss me good night.”

        Justin closed his eyes, dredging up the will to move, and rolled over.  He sat up a little, digging his nails into his palms, forcing his eyes open, finding the willpower to make it through this somewhere deep inside, then leaned in and kissed AJ’s cheek.

        AJ’s voice was soft and genuine.  “I’m sorry I was mean to you.”

        “No, you’re not,” he snapped.

        AJ laughed.  “Okay.  You’re right.  I’ll stop the bullshit.”

        He was going to murder the fucker before sunrise.  It was inevitable.  Justin lay down again to plan AJ’s death.  He didn’t own a gun.  Bludgeoning was always an option.  He could drown the bastard.  Stabbing would be rough and messy.  Kevin really wouldn’t approve.  Kevin liked AJ.

        He’d never been with another man other than Kevin, until tonight.  He’d never come close to it.  Kevin knew that.  Kevin knew that Justin only gave certain things to him.  Now, those things weren’t special anymore.  But they’d never been special.  He was nothing, he was subhuman, he was a fucking fake, he was a fucking bitch.  Why should he be treated as though his body were sacred?  He had to stop thinking he was somebody.  He had to stop thinking he was worth something.  The truth would come out, someday.  Everyone would know what a fake and a whore and a bitch he was.  Kevin had always known.  AJ knew, now, too, without a doubt.  Someday they’d all know.  Someday his life would be over.

        Maybe he’d feel freedom, on that day.  All of the pretending would be over.  All of the lies would end.  He could stop being scared that they’d all find out.  It might be...almost...freeing.

        The room had been silent for a minute.  Maybe AJ was asleep.

        “Did you hit Joey?”  His voice was louder than he’d intended.

        “Ask him,” AJ said, sounding casual and half-asleep.

        If AJ had hit Joey, Justin couldn’t ask him without shaming him.  If AJ hadn’t hit Joey, Joey would be insulted that Justin thought he’d stick around in an abusive relationship.  But if AJ had hit Joey, Joey wouldn’t still be this attracted.  Or would he?  Justin knew better than to underestimate any of the Boys, or the holds they had over people.

        Lance opened his eyes.  Daylight.  Morning.  He should get up before-

        “Mmm.”  Howie’s hand slid over his chest, pulling him back to the mattress.  “Stay.”

        Startled, Lance held his breath.

        Howie stroked his chest.

        He meant it?  He wanted Lance to stay?  Could he have stayed on other mornings?

        Howie’s hand stilled.  He was asleep.

        Lance gradually relaxed.  He looked down at Howie’s hand resting loosely on his chest.  “I love you,” he thought, but didn’t say.

        “Mmm.  Mmm…”  Nick kissed his neck, fucking him with two fingers.  “Mmnn…  Can I fuck you?”

        Nick always asked, always.  Every time.  And JC said yes, every time, even when it went against his pride, even when he was shattered and devastated.

        This time, JC was high, soaring, and rock-hard.  He was with Nick again, and Nick wanted him, and he’d slept in Nick’s arms, and the world didn’t get any better.  “Yes,” he said, panting, moaning, rocking against Nick’s fingers.  “Yes, yes, Nick, oh, oh, god, yes…”

        Nick kissed his mouth, silencing him, moving between his thighs.

        JC moaned, overwhelmed by Nick’s kiss, raising his knees.  Nick’s fingers inside him were stroking him just right, rubbing his hot spot, setting him on fire.  Nick always knew just how to touch him, learned him and exploited that knowledge, made him feel like one raw pleasure center.

        Nick was the only person JC had had sex with, who was better at it than he was.

        Nick’s fingers withdrew, and JC offered himself, hot with anticipation.  He’d been waiting so long…  Nothing else was like this, nothing.

        Oh, there, the - - oh, oh, there, oh.  JC groaned, grabbing Nick’s ass and pulling him closer, arching, tensing, shuddering, oh, oh, god, there, yes, deeper, oh, oh, god!  He moaned, panting, muscles contracting eagerly.  It was just like he remembered, only better, better, better.  Bigger.  Deeper.  So, oh, oh…  Nick moved, rocking back, pushing forward, even deeper, making JC moan desperately.  With one shaking hand he reached up and pushed the hair back from Nick’s forehead, watching the pleasure on Nick’s face turn into something near ecstasy.

        Nick’s hands lifted JC’s hips.  The new angle made JC moan, Nick deeply and thickly planted inside him, so fully lodged within he prayed they’d never be separated.  Then Nick retreated and thrust in again, rubbing right over his prostate, setting off an explosion of heated ecstasy.  JC couldn’t stop moaning, feeling each one well up with new enthusiasm as Nick thrust in deeper and harder, clutching at Nick with increasing gratitude and passion.  He never got fucked like this anymore, never felt anything like this anymore.  No one but Nick had ever, could ever, make him feel like this; or had ever, could ever, do this to him, to his body.  JC felt it in his balls, his blood, his dick; he was going to come, he was going to explode, he was going to scream, oh god, oh god, oh yes, yes, yes, Nick, Nick, Nick, oh!  Ah, ah, oh…oh…oh…  JC panted, gasping a little, feeling terribly grateful, wonderfully in love.  Only Nick had ever made him feel this good.

        Nick was grunting, fucking into him with fast, even strokes, making him moan at the constant pleasure.  He gripped Nick’s back, fingers slipping slightly in the sheen of sweat, wanting to feel Nick everywhere.  But not now; now, Nick was in the zone, nearing orgasm, focused on his own peak of pleasure.

        Nick’s eyes closed.  JC urged Nick closer, drawn by the signal.  Nick’s thrusts became shorter.  JC groaned softly, aching, over pleasured.  Nick tried to pull JC’s hips closer, but their bodies were already as close as they could be.  It was coming, it was coming…

        Nick groaned.  Louder.  Longer.  Again.  He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lower lip, moaning, face contorted with ecstasy.

        JC moaned in sympathy, almost as gripped by Nick’s orgasm as Nick was.  So close, so close, so close-

        Nick straightened his back, then arched it, throwing his head back, gorgeous, glorious, moaning JC’s name.  The sound of it echoed through JC, reverberating in his blood, shuddering into his heart of hearts.  His name, his, in Nick’s highest point of passion.

        JC was panting heavily.

        Nick slowly relaxed.  He opened his eyes and leaned down, his forearms on either side of JC’s head, and licked JC’s lips.  “You feel so good,” he murmured.

        JC almost, almost, whimpered with pleasure and happiness.  He settled for stroking back Nick’s sweat-damp hair.  Nick kissed him then, and he kissed Nick back, trying to convey his gratitude and his love.

        Nick rolled them over, and JC immediately took the hint, leaving Nick’s mouth to slide down a little, kissing Nick’s chest, licking over Nick’s nipples.  Nick stroked his hair.  “You’re hard,” Nick observed.  “How many more do you want?”

        JC hadn’t heard that question in a long time.  He hadn’t thought he’d ever hear it again.  “I love you,” he said against Nick’s stomach.  He raised his head, looking up Nick’s body, meeting Nick’s eyes.  “I love you,” he repeated.

        Nick’s knee nudged him forward; he crawled back up Nick’s body, bidden by Nick’s warm, indulgent smile.  “I know, baby,” Nick murmured, pulling him in for a kiss.  Nick rubbed noses with him briefly, cupping the back of his neck, kissing him again.  “That doesn’t answer my question.  How many do you want?”

        JC slid his fingers from Nick’s shoulders and up into Nick’s hair, pressing his face to Nick’s neck, taking a moment to recover from love so strong it had him trembling.  “As many as there are,” he finally whispered.

        Nick’s laughter was gentle, and he kissed JC’s ear.

        Justin had dozed off and on, but he hadn’t been able to get deep into any sleep.  He had a headache, too, which he could attribute to being hung over, but probably also related to his stress level.

        That fucking camera and tripod were still there.  Still pointed at the bed.  He sat up, intending to get up and put them away, or maybe back over them with his car.  No, the Escalade, that was bigger.

        “I’ve been thinking.”

        Justin wanted to hit something.  God damn it, couldn’t he get any fucking peace?!  He glared at AJ, who was lying beside him like he couldn’t get any more comfortable.  “What?”

        “I think I’m going to fuck you pretty hard,” AJ said.  “I think it’ll be easier for you if it’s rough.”

        Justin closed his eyes.  This was not happening to him.  This couldn’t be happening to him.  He choked back a laugh.  This wasn’t supposed to be his life.  God, he could just picture his fans’ faces if they knew.  If they only knew…

        “Can you take spit or do you need lube?”

        Did he really have to answer that?  Justin opened his eyes.  “It doesn’t matter.”  It didn’t.  AJ’s dick wasn’t any bigger than Kevin’s, and for Kevin’s dick, spit was enough.  For Kevin’s hand, or…other things…he got lube.

        “Okay.  Come here,” AJ said, and offered a hand.  “Let’s kiss until you get more comfortable.  You’re supposed to look traumatized after I’m done with you, not before.”

        Joey could just picture it, Nick fucking JC, taking him from behind.  Or the two of them kissing, JC’s elegant musculature draped over Nick’s body.  He’d never known anyone like JC, who seemed to be the living embodiment of creative sexuality; and he’d never met anyone as sexually manipulative as Nick.  He couldn’t stand the thought of Nick using and exploiting JC like that, JC of all people.

        He could hear them, too.  No matter how loudly he turned up the volume on the TV, he could still hear it in his head, that moaning, that groaning, that rhythmic “unh unh unh” of fucking.

        He was going to leave.  He was going to go.  Joey turned off the TV and stood, reaching for his cell phone.

        “Hey.”  Nick was walking into the room, pulling on a T-shirt.  “Don’t leave yet.  You had breakfast?  There’s cereal and eggs and shit.”

        Joey did not want to eat breakfast in this man’s kitchen.  He could hear running water.  A shower?  JC.  JC, showering away the filth of Nick’s sex.  “Do you have any morals?”

        “Yeah,” Nick said, walking away.  “Do you?”

        Infuriated, Joey followed him.  “I’m not the one fucking best friends.”

        “No, you’re the one letting me fuck you,” Nick said, opening the refrigerator.  “How’d it go last night?  We never talked about it.”

        Joey was so pissed, he played his ace first just to prove to himself he could have an effect on Nick, some effect, any effect at all.  “Ashley told me he loved me.”

        “Yeah?” Nick asked, opening a carton of eggs.  “Did he mean it?”

        The wind was out of Joey’s sails so fast, he was going backwards.  “Yeah, he meant it.”

        “Anyone can say it,” Nick said, setting the eggs on the counter, looking at him.  “I can say it.  I love you, I love you, I love you.  He may have said it, he might even have thought he meant it, but was it real?”

        Was it real?  Had Ashley really meant it?  Suddenly, Joey didn’t know, not for sure.  “I think he meant it,” he snapped defensively.

        “You think?  You think?” Nick exploded.  “What is this, fucking amateur night?!  If you don’t even know what you’re doing, if you can’t even help me-”

        “I know exactly what I’m doing!” Joey shouted.  “I’m doing a great job!  What have you done, show up on his doorstep twice?  I’ve done all of the work, I’ve done everything, I have him exactly where I want him!”

        “If you can’t even be useful to me, I might as well do it by myself!” Nick shouted back.  “You don’t even know if he’s in love with you or not!  It’s in his eyes, Fatone!  It’s not just the words, it’s the way he says them!  It’s the way he gives himself to you!  It’s the way you become his world!  That’s when you have him right where you want him!  If you can’t even figure that out, if you’re not even going to help me in this, you can go the fuck home.”

        Joey wanted to hit him.  The arrogant bastard, who the fuck had died and made him God?  Joey had done everything, Joey had done all of this-

        “And just so you know,” Nick added, “he’s in love with you.  Any idiot can tell.”

        Joey hated him.

        Nick grinned.  “So, good work.  You do have him right where you want him.  Now, what do you want to do with him?”

        Rough.  It was rough.  AJ was biting him.  Bruising him.  Gripping him too tightly.  Smacking his ass.

        It felt…good.  Justin couldn’t have taken any kind of tenderness, not from AJ.  He couldn’t have taken an imitation of Kevin, either, because no one would ever be Kevin.  But this, this harsh sex, roughing him up, pain and pleasure mixed together, this he could accept.

        AJ fucked him twice, once on his back, then again on hands and knees.  Both times, AJ pulled out and came across his thighs.  Justin was going to have to ask Joey whether AJ always did that.  Or not.

        When they were done, AJ told him to stay put.  AJ left the room.

        Justin fell asleep.

        It was good, deep sleep.

        Everything hurt.

        His head hurt, for one.  Definitely a monster hangover.  Even his skin hurt.  The sound of his own breath was too loud.

        His heart hurt.  The very thought of Brian made him want to close his eyes and die.  But he remembered, kill them before he kills you.  His new mantra.  It gave him a shred of a scrap of the will to keep going.

        His brain hurt.  Too many thoughts.  Too many fuzzy, fuzzy memories of Trevor being nice to him, of Trevor being good to him, of making a complete ass of himself.

        He wasn’t sure what he’d done.  He remembered being told to kiss Trevor good night, but he couldn’t remember doing it.  And yet he recalled feeling very close to Trevor, feeling very good about Trevor, feeling very…affectionate.

        He took some Tylenol, and drank some water, and drank some coffee.  Then he took a shower.  At least his skin had stopped hurting, although the headache was trying to befriend him for life.

        When the doorbell rang, he was torn between the impulse to run over and answer the door, to stop the chiming; and the firm knowledge that running was not going to benefit his current condition.  He shuffled quickly but carefully, hoping that the throbbing in his brain didn’t indicate imminent explosion.

        Kevin was outside.  He remembered Kevin being nice to him last night.  Too nice.  Far too nice.  Something was up.  He opened the door and let Kevin in.

        “Are you alone?” Kevin asked.

        “Yes,” Chris said.  “I’d prefer whispering.”

        “I don’t care what you’d prefer,” Kevin said bluntly.  “You got everything you preferred last night.  It’s only through the grace of God and my tap-dancing that you didn’t destroy everything.”

        “It worked out,” Chris said.  He wished Kevin would shout below a dull roar, but decided that it wasn’t the time to mention it.

        “You fucked up,” Kevin said.  “When you fuck up on your own time, I couldn’t care less, but you fucked up on my time last night.  I was nice, and I let it slide, but getting drunk was the last straw.  You were babbling, you could have said anything, and if you let something slip during that car ride home, I’ll make sure you suffer for it.  I never should have let you go with him.  Do you remember what you said, or were you too drunk?”

        “I remember singing,” Chris said.  “I remember trying to kiss him.  I don’t think he let me, because I don’t remember kissing him, just wanting to.”

        “Did you say anything stupid?” Kevin asked.  “Anything about Brian?”

        “I said…”  Chris tried to remember.  “He was driving, and I think I fell asleep, and then we were here, but in the car, and he said…”  Oh.  Oh, god.  Chris couldn’t have been that stupid.  He couldn’t have been that pathetic.  He couldn’t have made that big of an ass of himself.

        “He said?” Kevin demanded.

        “He looked good,” Chris said.  “He looked really good.  I told him…”  Chris didn’t want to say this to Kevin.

        “What did you say?” Kevin asked, speaking slowly but impatiently, as though Chris were an idiot child.

        “I told him that I love him,” Chris said.

        “Did he believe you?”

        “I don’t know.”

        “It’s too early for that,” Kevin said.  "Can you pull back?”

        Chris’s head was pounding.  He wanted to kick Kevin out.  “Yeah.”

        “Good.  Do that.”  Kevin must have decided that his work was done, because he just walked out.

        Chris needed more Tylenol.

        The doorbell rang.

        AJ checked.  Well, well, well.  Daniel Miller.  He’d hoped, he’d plotted, but it was gratifying to see the rabbit walk right into the trap like this.  AJ opened the door and aimed for a look of casual surprise.  “Hi.”

        “Hi,” Dan said.  He didn’t look happy to see AJ, or surprised, but he was polite about it.  “Is Justin here?  I brought his shirt.  He left it behind when you took him out of the club.”

        Nice wording.  Acknowledging last night, reminding him of the scene he’d caused, but not yet confronting him about it.  “Yeah,” AJ said, not giving a fuck what Dan thought of him or his behavior.  “He’s upstairs.  Last room on the right.”  He stepped back, going to the kitchen, leaving Dan to find Justin.

        Dan entered the house, closing the door behind himself.  He went up the broad staircase, Justin’s shirt in hand.  Down the hall, to the end, on the right.  He looked in and, oh.  Justin’s bedroom.  Justin was still in bed.

        He didn’t want to intrude.  He could leave the shirt and go.

        But he wanted to make sure Justin was okay, after last night.

        It wasn’t his business.  But Justin was his friend.  And regardless, he couldn’t ignore domestic violence when it was occurring right in front of him.  If he ignored it, that was as good as accepting it.  And domestic violence was what it was.  Justin and AJ were a couple, and AJ was abusive.  If AJ acted that way in the club, things had to be worse behind closed doors.  He couldn’t ignore that.

        It wasn’t his place.

        But he cared about Justin.

        Dan stepped into the room.  “Justin.  Justin?”  He got closer to the bed.  Justin was on his stomach, the sheets up past his waist.  There were marks on his back.  Fingernail scratches.  Bite marks.  Abuse, or sex?  Dan blushed with embarrassment, but persisted.  “Justin?  Justin.”

        Justin’s eyes came open.  He pushed himself up, looking around the room confusedly.  He saw Dan, and blinked.  “Hey.  Hey, hi.”  He sat up, pulling on the sheets to stay covered.  “Hi,” he said again.

        “I’m sorry,” Dan said.  “AJ said you were back here, so I…  I brought you your shirt.  I picked it up last night, at the club.  You left in kind of a hurry,” he added gently, hoping that it would prompt a reply to let him start a conversation on the real reason he’d come over.

        “Oh, thanks.”  Justin blushed a little, himself, as he accepted the shirt.  “AJ was a little angry.”

        There were more marks on Justin’s chest.  Scratches again, another bite mark.  A bruise on his wrist.  Scratching and biting might have been sex.  Bruises, not necessarily.  “Does he get angry a lot?”

        “Oh, no,” Justin said quickly.  “It’s not like that.  Last night I, I just wasn’t…”  He hesitated.  “It was nothing,” he said.

        Dan was disappointed.  Justin had come close to talking about it.  “I don’t like to see you being treated like that.”

        “It’s not like that,” Justin said again.  “AJ and I are great together.”

        “I’ve never seen two people dance like that, together,” Dan admitted.  “But that doesn’t excuse everything.”

        “What are you trying to say?” Justin asked, on the defensive.

        “I think you deserve better than you’re getting.”

        “It’s not up to you,” Justin said.

        “I know that,” Dan said.  There was a camera on a tripod at the foot of the bed.  He’d noticed it, coming into the room, but he hadn’t really thought about it.  Now he realized that it was in the perfect position to videotape sex.  In fact, he couldn’t think of any other reason for it to be there.

        AJ and Justin taped their sex life?  Didn’t they realize how dangerous that was?  Justin was too smart for that, had to be too smart for that.  Was it AJ, then?  Pushing Justin into taping it?  The idea of taping sex had its appeal, sure, but it wasn’t safe.  Not for them.  Not with their public lives.  Not when fans might break into their houses.  Not when they weren’t even home for months on end.

        AJ wasn’t right for Justin.  Mistreated him.  Hurt him.  Didn’t respect him.  “What are you doing today?” Dan asked.  “Are you busy?”

        “I don’t know,” Justin said.  “I have to check with AJ.”

        “Why?”

        “Because I do,” Justin said.  “He might have other plans.”

        “Then ask him,” Dan said.  “Tell him I want to hang out with you today.”

        Justin studied him.  “You have balls.  Okay.”  He hesitated.  “Can you hand me my sweatpants?  They’re right over - - yeah, there, those.  Thanks.”  He wriggled into them, then stood.  “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

        Dan waited.  Waited.  Waited.

        Justin came back.  His pants had slipped, revealing a dark bruise on his hip.  “Take a seat.  Give me ten minutes and we can roll.”  He walked into the bathroom, closing the door.

        Dan sat on the edge of the foot of the bed.  He studied the camera.  He wondered how well he really knew Justin.

        Sated, Lance closed his eyes.

        The doorbell rang.  He opened them.

        “It’s okay,” Howie said, slipping from the bed, pulling on clothes.  “Stay there.”

        Lance felt like basking.  The warm glow that Howie gave him hadn’t even begun to lift.  He’d been invited to stay.  They’d made love again.  Maybe he didn’t have to give Howie to JC, after all.

        A few minutes passed.

        He wondered who had been at the door.

        He didn’t want to leave the bed.  Ever.  But he was curious.

        It was probably someone who should never, ever see Lance coming out of Howie’s bedroom, unshowered, in last night’s clothes, at this time of day.

        But he knew Howie’s house.  He could sneak out of the room, peek, and never be noticed.

        He got up quietly and put on his underwear, his pants.  Carefully, he opened the bedroom door.  Cautiously, he poked his head out into the hall and listened.

        “…didn’t think it would be that way.”  Brian?  Brian was safe.

        “I told you how good he is,” Howie said with a slight laugh.

        “I know, but...” Brian said.  “It felt so good…  It was such a struggle not to touch him, not to share the feeling.”

        “Maybe you are invested,” Howie said.

        “I barely know Lance,” Brian said.

        What?  Lance held very still, barely breathing.  Him?

        “I’ve told you what a great guy he is,” Howie said.  “You know how I feel about him.”

        “When he touches me…  And last night, when I said good-bye to him, I wanted him to say something, to give me some sign that he might feel the same way.  All he was thinking about was you.”

        “Lance and I have a very special relationship,” Howie said.  “Sometimes I feel like he knows me better than anyone does.”

        Lance stepped back into the bedroom, closing the door softly.  He shed his clothes, sliding back into the bed, taking Howie’s spot, Howie’s pillow.

        Brian wanted him?  Brian talked to him, and trusted him with plans, and smiled at him.  And yeah, he’d given Brian head a few times, but Brian hadn’t even seemed to get anything out of it besides a simple orgasm.  There hadn’t been any feeling, any emotion.  Now Brian wanted him?  It didn’t make sense.

        He knew Howie better than anyone.  They had a very special relationship.  That was true, in his mind, and it meant a lot to hear Howie say it.  It meant everything to hear Howie say it, because Howie never said anything like that to him.  Why would Howie say it to Brian, but not to him?

        He and Howie didn’t do much but have sex, these days, and Howie didn’t say a lot during sex anymore.  Lance didn’t know how Howie felt about him.  Was it true, did they have a very special relationship?  If Howie meant it, why couldn’t Howie say it to him?  Why couldn’t Howie give him that?  Why wouldn’t Howie give him anything anymore?

        They’d been together, once.  They’d been a couple, they’d had a relationship, they’d shared everything that mattered and a lot of things that didn’t.  Lance was still in love with Howie, and he wanted to be able to express it.

        Sometimes he envied Chris.  Chris loved Brian wholeheartedly, with everything that he had.  Lance wanted to love someone like that.  Shame and pride held him back, but in his heart he wished that he could let go, that he could free himself and just love.

        He wanted to love Howie with all of himself.  But Howie didn’t seem to want that from him.  Howie didn’t really seem to want anything from him.  If he offered sex, Howie accepted, but that was as far as it went.  Lance wanted something deeper, something meaningful.  He was willing to show Howie devotion, if only Howie would give him some kind of encouragement, some kind of sign.

        Howie gave him nothing.

        Now they had a very special relationship?  Special to Howie?  In what sense?

        Lance wished that Howie would just give him something.  Tell him something.  Some kind of reassurance that when he walked out of the room, he didn't disappear from Howie’s life.

        Howie was willing to tell Brian that they had a very special relationship.  He wondered if he’d ever be able to get Howie to tell him.

        When JC came out to the kitchen, clean and groomed and wearing Nick’s clothes, Nick stroked his hair and told him how good he looked.  Then Nick offered him breakfast.  Nick couldn’t cook very well, not even eggs, but JC had missed everything about him, even his badly scrambled eggs, so JC took the eggs, and the burnt toast, too.

        Then Joey came into the kitchen.

        JC didn’t view Joey as a threat.  He knew that he would, if Nick touched Joey, but at the moment, he was fine.  So he said, “Morning, Joey.”

        “Hey,” Joey said warily.  He didn’t approve, JC could see that.  But he didn’t have much room to talk, since he’d be in AJ’s kitchen eating breakfast if he could, so he wasn’t going to harass JC about it.  “I’m going to go,” he told Nick.

        Nick glanced at the clock.  “Okay.  Make him call you.”

        “I will,” Joey said, resentment edging his tone.  “I’ll see you later,” Joey told JC.

        “Yeah,” JC said.  Something twitched in the back of his mind.  Oh!  Lance.  The group meeting.  He’d forgotten all about it.  He didn’t want to stand the guys up, but he wanted to stay with Nick for as long as he could.  “I’ll call you when I get home,” he said, hoping that Joey would read into that correctly.

        Joey nodded.  “Okay.”  He shot Nick a look and left.

        Nick leaned back against the refrigerator casually, shoulders back, hips forward, one knee bent, hand sliding lazily beneath his shirt.  “I don’t have to be anywhere until later.  What do you feel like doing?”

        Juthtin.  Juthtin.  Every time Dan said it, Justin thought to himself, damn, that should be annoying.

        Should be.

        Because, it should have been.

        Only, it wasn’t.

        He knew that the other guys had picked Dan, chosen him to join the group.  Which meant that they’d liked Dan, they’d thought that Dan would be a good fit into their dynamic.  And Dan was a great guy, okay, sure, Justin could accept that.  And yes, Dan was a great fit, personality-wise.  He was the only member of the group with even a half-assed work ethic.  But when they’d chosen Dan, they’d been focusing on his personality and not his actual skills.  Forming a group wasn’t a big popularity contest, and it wasn’t “let’s get our best friends together and be a band!”  It was about vocal fitting, it was about try-outs, it was about networking.  Those little idiots had been playing “who do we want to join our secret special club,” not “who has enough talent to give us half a chance?”  Although Justin wasn’t sure any performer was strong enough not to be dragged down by those jackasses.

        Dan’s voice was…nice.  Passable.  And he could learn the choreography, not that theirs was all that hard.  But that lisp.  No one was perfect, and every performer had flaws, but the trick was to build all of the other assets up so much that the flaw could pass.  Dan’s other assets weren’t doing the trick.

        But he was a nice guy, one of those down-to-earth good guys, and he was pretty good-looking.  He seemed genuinely concerned about Justin’s welfare, which was soothing to Justin’s badly battered ego.

        And when he said “Juthtin,” it made Justin smile.

        It was nice to smile again.

        The bedroom door opened; Howie sat on the bed as Lance rolled over.  “I made breakfast.”

        Lance reached up, sliding his hand across Howie’s nape, guiding Howie down for a kiss.  Howie came without resistance, kissing back but making no effort to deepen the moment.  There it was, a perfect example; Howie casually accepted anything given to him, but didn’t press for more.  Whatever Lance was willing to give, Howie took.  But it was like Howie didn’t care enough to want more.  It was like Lance was a ten-dollar bill he’d found on the street, stuffed in his pocket, and took home.  Nice to have, but nothing he couldn’t have done without, nothing he really valued as his own.

        Lance longed to be more than that.  He had been, once, or at least he’d felt like he’d been.  Back when they’d coupled with passion, when they’d showered together and stolen kisses in MTV offices and whispered “I love you” in the dark.  Lance hadn’t said it since then, not to anyone, not even Howie.

        Howie’s tongue teased his mouth.  “Lance,” Howie whispered, like he wanted to laugh.  “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

        Lance stopped kissing him, so Howie stopped kissing back.  Lance looked into his eyes, wondering who in hell was in there looking back at him.  Howie was beautiful, but what was behind the beauty?  Anything?  Nothing?

        Howie’s fingers stroked over Lance’s pelvic bone, just beneath the covers.  “What is it?”

        “Do you want JC?”

        “JC’s a very special man,” Howie said.

        “Do you love him?”

        “No, I’m not in love with JC,” Howie said.  “Why?”

        Why.  That was almost funny.  Lance smiled.  “No reason.”

        “All right.”  Howie kissed him.

        “I love you,” Lance said, mid-kiss, opening his eyes so he wouldn’t miss Howie’s reaction.  He wanted to catch Howie off-guard.  He almost wanted to piss Howie off.  He wasn’t supposed to mention love, he wasn’t supposed to push for more.  He was supposed to know his place, and as long as he toed the line, he’d be rewarded for it.  He didn’t want to toe the line.  He wanted to be like Justin, like Chris, pathetic and desperate, putting his heart out there, throwing himself at Howie with everything he had.  Why did he have to be sensible and reasonable?  If he was in love, why couldn’t he act like it?

        Howie looked faintly surprised, but his eyes were gentle, his touch warm as he cupped Lance’s chin and kissed Lance’s lips.  “I didn’t know,” he said.  “You know you’re special to me.”

        Special.  Howie was all surface, all gloss, all sweetly polished veneer.  Maybe there was no substance there.  Maybe no one ever got to touch it.  But Lance wanted to touch it, wanted to put his hand to that surface shine and push, push right through it, right to where Howie really was.  “How special?”  It wasn’t a whine, it was a challenge.  Lance didn’t want to be a good boy and obey the rules and get the reward.  He was willing to be a bad boy, and lose the reward, if it meant he could scratch that pretty surface.

        “Very special,” Howie said.  His eyes were at their most sincere.  His tone implied that he couldn’t understand why Lance would have to ask such a question; of course Lance was very special to him, hadn’t that been clear?  He was radiating innocent confusion.  “Lance, you know what we have is important to me.”

        “What do we have?” Lance asked.  He was going to keep pushing until he got something real.  True emotion.  Assuming Howie was capable of it.

        “Friendship,” Howie said.  “Our friendship is very-”

        “Very special,” Lance said, narrowing his eyes.  “Very important.”  He sat up, but Howie didn’t back away, and they ended up almost nose to nose.  Howie’s skin was flawless.  Always.  That fucking perfect veneer.  “What does it mean to you?” Lance asked.  “What do you get out of it?”

        “Your companionship,” Howie said.

        “Sex,” Lance said.  “Obedience.”

        “Why don’t you tell me what you get out of it?” Howie asked smoothly, sweetly.

        “Besides your gorgeous ass on my dick?” Lance asked.

        Howie actually smiled.  “Yes, besides that.”

        “Not much,” Lance said.  “Not what I want.  I want you to talk to me.  I want to go out with you.  I want to hang around and spend time with you.  I’m here because I’ll take whatever I can get, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want more.”

        “Lance.”  Howie kissed him gently.  “You want more because you love me.  I don’t want more.  I’m sorry, but I’m not in love with you.”  His eyes were soft.  “I hope that you can understand.”

        “Why am I here?” Lance asked.  “You can have anyone you want.  Why do you keep me around?  Because it’s convenient?  Because you want to make sure your hold over me isn’t slipping?”

        Howie kissed him again.  “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he said, and rose.

        Lance watched him walk out of the room.  Howie hadn’t had a sweet, meaningless answer for that question.  What did that mean?

        Howie was sick of their conversation?  Howie wasn’t willing to break form and admit that he only let Lance hang around because he got off on control?

        Lance got up and put on his clothes.  He left without saying good-bye.  He went home, showered, and tried to pretend he wasn’t afraid he’d fucked up.  He should have kept his mouth shut.  He shouldn’t have risked it.  What was he going to do if Howie didn’t let him come back?  He didn’t want to be limited to listening to Howie’s voice on an answering machine.

        Ow.  Ow, phone, why?  Wincing, Chris picked up the phone to make it stop ringing.  “Hello?” he asked faintly.

        “Hello?  Chris?  This is Trevor.”

        “My caramel cutie,” Chris said.  “How can I help you?”

        “I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” Trevor said.  “After last night.”

        “Isn’t that sweet,” Chris said.  “It’s all right, dear, I’m fine.  Nothing dropping a three-ton brick on my head won’t cure.  How about you?  You seemed to be getting along famously with what’s-his-face.”

        “Yeah,” Trevor said.  “Yeah, I had a great time last night.  You should take me out more often.”

        “Did the rest of your little friends have a good time?”

        “I don’t know.  Dan’s not here, and everyone else is still in bed.  How hung over are you?”

        “Barely,” Chris said.  “Almost not at all.”

        “You want me to come over?”

        “I wouldn’t stop you.”

        “Okay.  I’ll see you later.”

        “Bye, dear.”  Chris hung up.  Either he hadn’t made an ass of himself, or Trevor was being gracious enough to overlook it.  He suspected the latter.  Damn.  He wondered whether it were too late to switch with one of the other guys.  It would be easier to take down someone he didn’t actually like.

        But he had to get over it.  He had to stop having attacks of conscience.  And he couldn’t pretend that hurting Trevor, but feeling bad about it, made him a better person.  It actually made him a worse person.

        He had to get Jacob.  He had to get all of them.  And that included Trevor.  Chris had to face that, accept it, and get on with it.

        Jacob groaned, opening his eyes slowly.  Yes, that was his phone.  He rolled over, pushing his hair out of his face, reaching for the phone, clearing his throat and wincing at the throbbing ache in his head.  “Hello?”

        “Good morning.  Am I waking you up?”

        Brian.  Jacob checked the clock.  “No, I should have been up anyway.”  He pressed his fingers to the side of his head.  “How’s it going?”

        “It’s a beautiful morning,” Brian said.  “Are you all right?  You sound a little rough.”

        “I must have been drinking more than I thought,” Jacob said.  He hadn’t had that much.  Had he?  It had been a pretty long night, though.  But he’d had the same number of drinks as Brian, and Brian sounded fine.  “What are you up to today?”

        “Nothing, yet,” Brian said.  “Are you up for company?”

        “Yeah,” Jacob said.  “Definitely.”

        “I’ll be over in about half an hour,” Brian said.  “Is that enough time for you to make yourself presentable?”

        “Yeah, I’ll try to drag my ass out of bed by then,” Jacob said.  “See you.”

        “Bye.”

        JC told Nick about what he’d done with Erik.  Nick made sympathetic noises, and understood how disgusted he’d been, and told him Erik was a fucking arrogant fool for thinking he was anywhere in JC’s league.  They shared slow, lazy kisses, and Nick took his time undressing JC with lingering, exploring touches, and when Nick wrapped his hand around JC’s dick and sucked the head into his mouth, JC experienced such intense pleasure the world went white.  Nick deep-throated him, fucking him with two fingers until he came, and by the time Nick was between his thighs, sucking on his jaw and whispering “Can I fuck you?” JC was so high he knew he’d never come down.
        Joey picked up his phone.  “You got Joey.”

        “Joey, it’s Ashley.”

        “Ashley, pretty,” Joey said.  “Where are you?”

        “At home,” Ashley said. “Did-”

        “Who else is there?”

        “Uh, just Erik and Jacob, I think.”  Ashley sounded a little confused.  Damn, whores were slow on the uptake.

        “You mind if I come over?  I want to see you.”

        “We really have to talk,” Ashley said.

        Joey rolled his eyes.  “I’ll be there soon.”

        “Okay,” Ashley said, softly.

        God.  Joey bit back a sigh.  “You’ll be smiling when I get there?”

        “I-”

        “A pretty smile just for me?”

        “Joey-”

        “Pretty girl smile for Joey?”

        Ashley laughed, giving in.  “Okay, Joey.”

        “Good girl.”  Joey hung up.  He wondered how many minutes he’d be inside Ashley’s house before he got off.

        Chris knew he looked about as good as he felt, which was not quite his personal best.  But he opened the door anyway.

        “I brought lunch,” Trevor said, handing him a bag.  “Whatever you don’t eat, I will.”

        “Now, there’s an accommodating date,” Chris said.  “Since you brought food, you may enter.”  He walked back to the kitchen, Trevor following.  “How’d you enjoy Mr. Richardson’s fine company last night?”

        “I don’t know,” Trevor said.

        A little surprised by the honesty in Trevor’s tone, Chris sat across the table from him.  “What do you mean?”

        “I mean…”  Trevor shook his head.  “He was nice, he was great, the whole time I wanted to pinch myself to make sure it was real, or pinch him to make sure he was real.  He was great, he was everything I’d ever dreamed of.  But I kept thinking about you.  How much he hurt you.  I don’t know, I kept wanting to ask him how he could do that to you.”

        “He hurt me, not you,” Chris said.  “You shouldn’t let that keep you from liking him.”

        “It does,” Trevor said.  “He’s awesome, he’s fucking awesome, but you’re my friend.  That matters more.”

        Chris knew that Trevor meant it.  Those eyes were too serious, too honest, to lie.  “If you want to hang out with him, you can.”

        “He doesn’t want to hang out with me,” Trevor said.

        “I do,” Chris said.

        Trevor’s gaze studied him.

        Chris looked away, fumbling open the bag.

        “Chris,” Trevor said.

        “Yes?” Chris asked brightly, past the lump in his throat.  He pulled cartons of fries out of the bag.

        “When you had sex with Kevin…”

        Oh.  He hadn’t expected the “top or bottom” question.  Oddly relieved, Chris took burgers from the bag.  When he was with Brian, both.  But he didn’t think that anyone would believe he’d fucked Kevin, especially anyone who got to know Kevin.  He shoved a sandwich across the table towards Trevor.  “Usually I bottom.  You want something to drink?”

        Trevor was asking about how he had sex, which meant that Trevor was thinking about him in relation to sex.  Maybe Trevor was considering having sex with him.  If so, maybe he’d just made it easier.  And if Trevor tried to fuck him?

        “You have Coke?”

        “Yeah.”  He got Coke.

        He liked Trevor.  He was attracted to Trevor, to his deep gaze, smooth skin.  Trevor was young, and competitive, and sensitive, and fairly talented.

        Then again, Kevin hadn’t given him the go-ahead.  He’d have to call Kevin and ask about it.

        Or, Trevor might not be thinking about sex with him.  Trevor might be thinking about sex with Kevin.

        “Do you ever go out with younger guys?”

        Chris was a little surprised by the question, but on consideration, he shouldn’t have been.  Trevor could be direct.  He made sure he didn’t have food on his face, and then he said, “Yeah.”

        Brian had been younger.

        Brian was three years, four months, and three days younger.

        And apparently Trevor had been thinking about sex with him.

        Jacob took Brian back to his room.  His room was his sanctuary, his private space, away from the mess and chaos of the rest of the house.  They picked up where they’d left off the night before.  Jacob showed Brian the notes for the lyrics he’d told Brian about at the club.  Brian took one of Jacob’s guitars and played something he’d been working on.

        Jacob loved finding new people to share music with.  It was getting harder and harder to find people he could communicate with on his level.  But he and Brian had a great vibe between them, something really deep, creative, one-on-one.  Brian understood him, Brian really got him, in that rare, direct, soul-to-soul recognition.  It was a beautiful thing.

        They’d stopped by a diner and were sitting at a back table, talking, when suddenly, it happened.  Justin came back to life.  He smiled, and then he burst into laughter, and there he was.  Smart, confident, on top of his game, alive, fun.

        Dan loved him like this.  Loved him.  This was the real Justin.  Completely confident, at ease in himself, ready for anything, poised to take over the world.

        This Justin was the one that AJ was pulling apart.  Knocking down.  Dan couldn’t let that happen.  This Justin was too alive, too real, too vibrant.  The world couldn’t lose this.

        Justin couldn’t afford to lose his sense of self, either.

        Dan had to talk to him.  Support him.  Show him he didn’t need AJ.  He knew enough about AJ to understand the appeal, and he could admit that there was a hell of a lot of appeal; but even so, it couldn’t be worth it.  It wasn’t worth it.  He had to prove that to Justin.

        When Joey got there, and Ashley let him in, he dodged Ashley’s relationship discussion by telling Ashley how great it had been to see him the night before, how he wished they’d had more time together, how hot Ashley had looked.  By the time he finished with that, they were up in Ashley’s room.  Joey started to kiss on him, saying a bunch of bullshit about how sexy Ashley was, how very pretty Ashley was, how much he wanted him, etc.  Then he got Ashley down on the bed and started getting serious.

        Despite everything, Ashley was great in bed.  He was as eager to please in bed as he was out of it, and he was pretty damned good at it.  Joey liked that; if he had to put up with the rest of Ashley’s bullshit, at least he got good sex out of it.

        He wanted to fuck Ashley.  He really did.  He knew Ashley would feel great as hell on his dick, and he also liked asserting dominance over Ashley.  It was so fucking easy to do, he didn’t know why Ashley hadn’t been chained in some dom’s basement long ago.

        Chris slumped beside Trevor on the couch.

        “Are you okay?” Trevor asked.

        “Yeah.”  He was.  He was okay.  He was just fine.  Things were great.  He had the best job ever, he had way more money than he needed, he had incredible friends, he was on a mission to hurt someone he just fucking adored, and the love of his life had broken his heart and was carelessly trampling all of the little pieces.

        He wondered what Brian was doing.

        “You’re off today,” Trevor said.

        “Off what?” Chris asked, frowning.

        “Off your game,” Trevor said.

        “Yeah.  It’s harder to be funny today.”

        Trevor was measuring him, weighing him.  Wondering.  Figuring him out.  “Why?”

        “Bad night last night,” Chris said.  The odd thing was, his hangover was gone.  His headache had faded somewhere between opening the door for Trevor, and finishing lunch.

        “We should have left early,” Trevor said.

        Chris wished that Trevor weren’t being sincere.  “You wouldn’t have gotten to hang out with Kevin.”

        “I would’ve gotten over it,” Trevor said with a smile.  “Where would we have gone?”

        “We would’ve come back here,” Chris said.

        “To do what?” Trevor asked.  He was smiling, a little; he liked wondering, and liked the idea of leaving the club to hang out privately.

        “Wash dishes,” Chris said.  “Dance the flamenco.  Make out.  Build cabinets.  The usual.”

        Trevor grinned.  “You know the flamenco?”

        “Know it?” Chris asked.  “I invented it.”

        “I thought it was a Spanish dance,” Trevor said.

        “It’s more of an Irish-American jig,” Chris said.  “Get up, I’ll show you.”  He stood.  “It’s a cross between the Celtic riverdance and the more laidback two-person waltz,” he said, grabbing Trevor for a demonstration.  “See?  Here, it’s more, add some hip-hop flavor to it.”

        Laughing, Trevor tried to follow his lead.  “Are you on any kind of beat?”

        “Beat!  Of course I’m on a beat!  One, two, three, four, one, two, three, seventeen, one, two, eighty-four, zero…”

        “You’re crazy,” Trevor said, keeping up admirably, considering Chris was making it up as he went along. “Wait, wait,” he said, laughing, stepping on Chris’s feet.  “You can’t tango and tap-dance at the same time!”

        “Hey, I invented the flamenco,” Chris said.  “I can do whatever I want!”  He sent Trevor into a low dip, then dropped him and pirouetted around him.  Trevor, laughing so hard it looked painful, reached for Chris, dragging him down, too.  Chris plopped on top of Trevor, then rolled off, laughing at him for laughing that hard.

        Sitting there in his room, talking about life, sharing music, he could forget that Brian was in the Backstreet Boys.  Brian was just Brian, and Brian was real.  He didn’t seem to be part of the Hollywood-pop society.  He was filled with creativity.  He was filled with humor, too, dropping into silliness out of the blue, eyes sparkling with fun, inviting Jacob to play.  But he took his music seriously, and he had a solid moral foundation that Jacob had been sure no one around the industry had anymore.

        But Brian was different.  Brian was real.  Jacob couldn’t believe how many ways they were finding to connect.

        Joey loved making out.  It wasn’t as good as sex, but it could be damned fun.  With Ashley, it was hot.  It was so steamy, he was sure the windows downstairs were fogged over.  He loved getting aggressive, on top, grinding his dick against Ashley’s, holding Ashley down and making Ashley moan.

        But when Ashley was on top, he had this little humping motion he did that provided just the right pressure at just the right angle to make Joey just that close to coming.

        It was best when they were on their sides, lining up just right, and Joey had his hand on Ashley’s ass, and Ashley was feeling Joey up and groping Joey down and moaning like it was better than it had ever been before.

        Eventually, though, after what felt like a solid ten hours but probably wasn’t, making out wasn’t enough.  And, interestingly enough, when Joey started moving on, Ashley was right with him, tugging at Joey’s clothes, getting on top and taking the lead.  Since it seemed like Ashley had a plan, or at least a goal, Joey sat back and let him go.

        Where Ashley went was, pretty quickly, to Joey’s dick.  And once he’d latched onto it, he didn’t want to let go.  He licked it and jacked it and seemed so damned hungry for it Joey wondered if he’d start gnawing on it.  Then he started slurping and sucking on the head, jacking Joey off into his mouth, and it felt so fucking good, Joey got into it, moaning, pumping his hips, pulling Ashley’s hair.

        Ashley choked on the first shot of cum, and pulled away, but not far enough, and Joey came hard right on his face.  Either Ashley was a complete idiot who still wasn’t past rookie mistakes on his fourth blowjob, or he liked being ejaculated on.  Joey couldn’t tell, and didn’t care, because either way, it looked fucking sexy.  And funny.  And degrading.  Mostly, it made him want to do it again.

        Ashley wiped his face off on his sheet.  He did a thorough job of it, and since Joey had been having a great time so far, Joey didn’t hold it against him and consented to kiss him again.  Joey kissed him, rolling around the bed stripping him, and got a finger up in him.  Ashley liked that, and jacked off under him, moaning a lot, giving off every “fuck me, fuck me” signal there was except the actual words.

        After he came, Joey gave him two fingers, and he started groaning, spreading his legs, pushing into Joey’s touch, pinching his own nipples.

        Joey was going to have to fuck him soon, before they both spontaneously combusted.

        Bowling.  Miniature golf.  Roller-skating.  Flea markets.  Innocent, wholesome, and classic.

        This was one of those days where Justin realized, this was what his life might be like, if he weren’t a celebrity.  Sometimes that scared him.  Today, it was nice.  It was even reassuring.  He could do this; he could be this guy.

        Dan still was that guy.  Justin liked that.  JC never had been a regular person; the other guys always had made an effort to stay down-to-earth, but Lance was slipping away, and sometimes Justin worried about Joey.  He didn’t have to worry about Chris, but he did have to worry about himself, more and more.  He’d say something, and hear himself saying it, and wonder, was that his perspective now?  When had that happened?

        But Dan, Dan was so middle-America ultra-normal it was like he’d walked out of an old sitcom.  He seemed to know that Justin was increasingly a stranger in that land, and was reintroducing Justin to the way classic suburbanites lived.

        And Justin was having a great time.  No pressure, no standards, no private bowling lane staffed by buxom waitresses with champagne.  Just a pair of shoes that a hundred feet had been in before his, and cheap greasy fries, and the simple athleticism of the game.

        It was easy to be with Dan.  He was having a good time.  It made Justin want to take Dan home to Tennessee and show him around.

        Chris and Trevor remained sprawled on the floor for a while, carrying on a vague, unhurried conversation.  Chris pushed up Trevor’s shirt and stroked his stomach.  It was a nice stomach.

        Then Trevor started touching back.  Nowhere obscene.  He just reached over and touched Chris’s chin.  Not his chin, so much as the hair on his chin.  Chris hadn’t actually shaved that day, so he was a little whiskery, but Trevor didn’t seem to mind.

        “What’s this about?” Chris asked, curious and slightly disturbed and maybe even a little bit turned on, although it was early to be turned on, since Trevor wasn’t trying to kiss him or anything.

        “I usually don’t have girls as friends,” Trevor said.  “I’m usually trying so hard to get in their pants, either we go out or we don’t, but I don’t make friends with them unless I want to date them and they won’t go out with me.”

        Surely that ramble was leading somewhere relevant.

        “I don’t know what to do about liking a guy and wanting to be friends with him,” Trevor said.  “Can you keep the friendship and try to date someone at the same time?”

        “Yeah,” Chris said.  “Sometimes.  No.”

        Trevor’s fingers caressed Chris’s jaw.  “That kind of sucks.”

        “You have to decide whether the possibility of getting laid is worth risking the friendship,” Chris said.

        “Some things are too good to risk losing,” Trevor said.

        “Who says you’ll lose?” Chris asked.

        “Who says I stand a chance of winning?” Trevor asked.  His eyes were sad; he withdrew his hand.  “When I was in tenth grade, there was this girl named Tandra Davis.  She was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, I couldn’t get over her.  I tried and I tried and I tried, I did everything but set myself on fire to get her attention.  Finally she noticed me, and finally she went out with me.  But I never should have tried.  Before I got there, she was all messed up over this other guy.  She was messed up about him before I got there, while I was with her, and long after I was gone.  I could call her up today, right now, and I guarantee you she’d still be thinking about him.  No matter what I did, I could never compete with that, and I could never get her past it.  Sometimes, no matter what you do, you have to realize you don’t even stand a chance.”

        Chris hadn’t realized he was that transparent.  Of course, he’d been harping on the whole Kevin thing, but sometimes Trevor saw things a little too clearly.  Had Trevor seen his real pain, his true longing?

        “People get over things,” Chris said.  He’d never get over Brian.

        JC gave Nick as much of himself as he could fit into a kiss.  He didn’t want to leave.  Nick kissed him as though trying to achieve the longest kiss on record, pushing tongue against tongue, one hand sliding back through his hair, other hand on JC’s lower back, creeping slowly down to JC’s ass.

        When Nick stopped kissing him, JC had to count to ten before opening his eyes, to give himself time to mask his grief.

        “You know we can’t see each other anymore,” Nick said, his voice gentle enough to be mindful of JC’s feelings, his fingers skimming JC’s cheek.  “Someone’s going to find out, and it’ll fuck up everything.  I told you, after this is over, we can hook back up.”

        He couldn’t wait that long.  Erik made his flesh crawl.  Howie confused him.  Nick was his place of sanity, of security.  Of inspiration and rejuvenation.

        “You can’t come here again,” Nick said.  “You can’t even call me.”

        It was true.  It hurt, but it was true.  They couldn’t run that risk.  They had to play it safe, and keep certain lies in place.  JC understood that.

        Nick kissed him.  “Bye, baby.”

        JC kissed back.  “Bye,” he said.  God, it hurt.  He looked away, and then he walked away.

        Justin and Dan had been together all day, trading stories.  Just like Justin talked about the other guys a lot, Dan talked about his own guys.  He and Erik had done this, he and Ashley had done that, Jacob had said x, Erik had said y, Ashley always z.  He’d mentioned Trevor, too, but Justin had been busy concentrating on his shot, or laughing, or listening to the sound of Dan’s voice and looking into those big blue eyes, and not paying attention to Trevor’s name.

        Then, all at once, it hit him.  They were in the drive-through lane, between ordering the food and picking it up, when Dan dropped Trevor’s name into the conversation.  Dan moved on, continuing with his sentence, finishing his thought; but Justin had stopped hearing him.

        Trevor.  Trevor.  The name conjured up a mental image.  Justin’s mind completed the image of Trevor by placing him beside Kevin, the way he’d been at the club last night, standing too close, hanging on Kevin’s every word, talking busily as though Kevin cared at all about anything he had to say.

        Kevin didn’t care about Trevor.  Trevor was nobody, and Justin wanted to get him for thinking he was someone, for trying to play on their level.  For trying to get everything he’d worked so hard to get - - his career, his fans, the beginnings of respect, Kevin - - without any effort, as though it were deserved, as though it should be handed over on a silver platter.  And disrespecting him, them, the whole time!

        Trevor didn’t deserve Kevin’s time, or Kevin’s attention.  He wasn’t worthy to touch a hair on Kevin’s head.  The same went for all of his arrogant lazy friends, too.  They were friends, a loose collection of friends; they weren’t a band at all.  They were a joke.

        How the hell did they think they could start a career based on the Backstreet/*NSYNC formula, with their old manager, and not be banking on that legacy?  They had the same backing, the same concept, the same old sound, and the same fan base.  They’d better learn to embrace it, because Justin wasn’t going to let them get away with trashing it, rejecting it, and spitting all over it.  That was fucking disrespectful.  Everything about their lazy, you-owe-me attitude was disrespectful of all of the hard work put forth by everyone else who had given them their chance to be where they were.  That same chance they were taking for granted and not making the most of.  They were actually making the least of it.  They were setting new lows for ingratitude and pissed-away opportunities.

        If Justin, JC, Chris, Joey, and Lance hadn’t worked this fucking hard for this long, there wouldn’t even be an O-Town.  They were the ones keeping the market alive.  Okay, the five of them and five other guys.  Without the ten of them and everything they’d spent all of these years-

        “Justin?”

        Trying to school his face into a clearer expression, wondering how long he’d been glaring like that at the dashboard, Justin took the cup from Dan, setting it into the cup holder.

        Dan was one of them, which meant that he had to be brought down, too.  But it was almost a shame.  He seemed like a hard worker and a long-range thinker.  He seemed self-motivated.  And he hadn’t been hand-picked by Lou, which was actually a good thing.

        He also liked *NSYNC.

        Then again, Dan said that Trevor liked them, too, and Justin wasn’t about to let that slow him down.

        “You okay over there?” Dan asked, his voice light but his eyes a shade more serious; he was concerned, but he was willing to let it go if Justin didn’t want him to press.

        Justin scratched his head.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.  A little hungry, though.”

        “I have just the thing for that.”  Dan took the food from the attendant and handed it to Justin.  “There you go.”

        “Thanks,” Justin said.  He grinned.  “Say my name again.”

        “Justin?” Dan asked.

        Justin shook his head; Dan had made a careful attempt to pronounce it correctly.  “Not like that.”

        Dan laughed.  “Juthtin?”

        He loved it.  “Want some fries?”

        “You’re crazy,” Dan said.  “Yeah, I’d love some fries.”

        Ashley was warm and pliant beneath Joey, moaning softly as he came down from his orgasm.  Joey wanted to push his knees up and fuck him.  But Joey’s body was done for now, and there was no real reason to stick around.  “Ashley, pretty,” he said, kissing around Ashley’s mouth.

        Ashley groaned weakly, sliding his hands across Joey’s chest, returning Joey’s kisses.

        “I have to go,” Joey said.  “I have to leave.”

        Ashley’s eyes opened.  His mouth was red and used.  “What?”

        “I have to go,” Joey said again.  “I’ll call you later.”  He kissed Ashley again, taking another tour of the pleasures of Ashley’s mouth.  When he rolled away and sat up, Ashley sat up, too, pain and confusion flickering across his face.

        “We have to talk about things,” Ashley said.

        “Things like what?” Joey asked, standing as he dressed.

        “Like Nick,” Ashley said, frustration edging his tone.  “He doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

        “You just don’t know him,” Joey said.  Dressed now, he sat on the edge of the bed.  “You don’t understand him.”  He kissed Ashley, stroking Ashley’s naked back.  “You have such a pretty body…”

        “Can we find a new word to describe me?” Ashley asked, laughter in his eyes and a little embarrassment.

        “But you are pretty,” Joey said, gliding his knuckles under Ashley’s jaw.  “You’re a pretty, pretty girl.  My pretty, pretty girl.”

        “I’m not a girl,” Ashley protested.

        “I know,” Joey said with a grin, kissing him.

        Ashley hooked his fingers in the front pockets of Joey’s jeans.  “Call me tonight?”

        Joey stole another kiss.  “I’ll call you,” he promised, skipping the part about “tonight.”

        Ashley nuzzled Joey’s beard.  “Joey,” he murmured, licking.

        Hmm.  Joey liked this.

        Ashley sat back, untucking his fingers.  “I’d better let you go.  I’ll be trying to keep you here forever.”

        Joey kissed him.  “Bye, Ashley.”

        Ashley really was pretty as all fuck.  “Bye.”

        Nick opened Kevin’s front door to let AJ in.  “Hey.  We’re just waiting for Brian.”

        “I finally got the tape,” AJ said as he walked into Kevin’s house, slapping a videocassette into Nick’s hand.  “Timberlake’s party, Joey freaking Ashley in public, everything.  The only copy in existence.”

        “Great,” Nick said.  “Howie just brought the tape from his office last night.”

        “JC and Erik?” AJ asked, shrugging off his jacket.

        “Yeah.  JC told me how disgusting it was.”

        “I can fucking imagine.”

        “Hey,” Kevin said, joining them with Howie.

        “Brought something for the safe,” AJ said.

        “Timberlake’s party,” Nick said, handing it to Kevin.

        “Only copy?” Kevin asked AJ.

        “Only one,” AJ confirmed.  “How’s Brian doing with Jakey boy?”

        “I don’t know, but I’m glad it’s him and not me,” Nick said.  “I’d punch him in the face on the first sentence out of his mouth.”

        Lance picked up his phone.  “Hello?”

        “Hey, it’s JC,” JC said.  “Sorry I didn’t call earlier.  I’ve been, I stopped by Nick’s last night, and…  What did you want to meet up about?”

        “It’s okay, I was out, too,” Lance said.  “I wanted to talk about the situation.  Joey isn’t answering his phone, but I’m about to call the other guys.”

        “I’ll come over,” JC said.

        “Okay,” Lance said.  “Bye.”

        “Bye.”

        Lance hung up, and his phone rang.  JC again?  “Hello?”

        “Yeah, hey, it’s me,” Joey said.  “Did I miss our big pow-wow?”

        “No, not yet,” Lance said.  “JC’s on his way over.”

        “Great,” Joey said.  “Be right there.”

        Lance hung up, then dialed Justin’s number.

        “You’ve been Justified.”  Justin laughed.  “Sorry, hi, who is this?  Stop it,” he told whoever he was with.  “Fuck you!” he exclaimed, laughing harder.

        “Fuck you, too,” Lance said mildly.  “I take it you’re busy?”

        “Hey, Lance,” Justin said.  “No, I’m cool, what do you need?”

        “JC and Joey are coming over, and I’m about to call Chris.  We need to talk about things.”

        “Let me get rid of Lieutenant Dan, and I’ll be there,” Justin said.  “Oh, forget it, you know you’re sick of me by now,” he said, addressing Dan.  “I knew it, you dirty freak!”  He burst into laughter.

        Lance hadn’t heard Justin laugh like that, real honest laughter, since Kevin had walked back into his life.  Lance didn’t like that Dan was causing it, but he did like hearing Justin sound happy.

        “Yeah, I’ll be over,” Justin said.  “Bye.  You crazy-” and the call ended.

        Lance hung up.  Justin playing nice to trick and manipulate Dan, good.  Justin actually enjoying Dan’s company but staying on task, fine.  Justin starting to like the guy, that would make things complicated.  He was already worried about Chris; he didn’t want Justin to make friends, too.  He called Chris.

        “Kirkpatrick,” Chris said.

        “It’s Lance,” Lance said.  “JC, Joey, and Justin are coming over.  We need to talk about things.  Can you be here?”

        “Let me check with my social planner,” Chris said.  “Trevor, cutie, my friend Lance needs me.  Can you bear to part with me?  Oh, come on, don’t be stingy.  You can’t keep me all to yourself all of the time.  Whoa, what a sacrifice.  Okay.  Lance, I’m on my way, as soon as I can shove Trevor out the door.”

        Brian and Jacob were deep in conversation when Brian’s phone rang.  Jacob was so fixated on what Brian was saying, and so drawn in by Brian’s focused energy, that he was startled by the sudden beeping.

        “I, hold on, stay right there,” Brian said, picking up his phone.  “Yes, hi.  Yeah, hey.  Oh, shit.  Is everybody there?  I didn’t know, sorry, I lost all track of time.  I’ll be right there.  No, it’s my fault.  Okay.  Okay.  Bye.”  He tucked his phone away again, meeting Jacob’s eyes.  “I’m sorry, I’m already late for a meeting.  I have to go.”

        “That’s okay,” Jacob said, oddly disappointed.  They stood, Jacob setting aside his lyric book.  “It was great to see you.”

        “You, too,” Brian said, warmth in his tone.  “I’ll call you, later.”

        “Great,” Jacob said, walking him out of the room, around the pool, into the rest of the house.

        “Let me know if you think of a good third line,” Brian said.

        “I will,” Jacob said.  He opened the front door.

        “Okay,” Brian said.  “I’ll see you.”  He paused on the doorstep.  When he met Jacob’s eyes, his own eyes radiated gentle warmth.  “I’ll call you,” he said again.

        “Okay,” Jacob said, his voice coming out softer than he’d intended.

        One extended moment, and then Brian turned and left.

        Jacob closed the door.

        He wondered when Brian would call.  That night?  Tomorrow?  He didn’t want to have to wait until tomorrow.  It seemed too far away, too long to wait to connect with Brian again.

        Dan pulled up in Lance’s driveway.  “Looks like this is where the party is.”

        “Thanks for the ride,” Justin said.

        “Hey, I had you in the car anyway,” Dan said.  “You sure you have a ride home?”

        “I can rope one of these guys into it,” Justin said.  “They live to serve me.”

        “Everyone does,” Dan agreed with a  grin.  “I’ll see you later?”

        “Just turn on your TV,” Justin said.  “I’m on every channel these days.”

        “Yeah, I noticed that,” Dan said.

        “But maybe I’ll call you,” Justin said, grinning.

        “Then maybe I’ll answer,” Dan said, sharing his smile.

        “Thanks for taking me bowling,” Justin said.

        “Thanks for not totally kicking my ass,” Dan said.

        “I’ll take care of that next time,” Justin said, getting out of the car.  “See you!”

        “See you,” Dan said, and watched him jog up to the front door.

        Lance opened the door.  “Hi.”

        “Hi,” Justin said, walking into the house.  “When was the last time you went roller-skating?” he asked JC.

        “I have no idea,” JC said.

        “What’s with you?” Chris asked.

        “What?” Justin asked.

        “You’re happy,” Chris said.

        “It’s Dan, we goofed off all day, I had a great time,” Justin said.

        Joey raised his eyebrows.

        Justin froze.  Silence descended.  Finally, he spoke, his eyes wide.  “Did I just say that?”

        “Don’t get attached,” Lance said.

        “I’m not attached,” Justin said.  “I’m not attached, I just…”

        “He’s nice to you,” Chris said.  “Isn’t he?”

        “That doesn’t matter,” Justin said, dismissing the idea.

        “Yes, it does,” Chris said.

        “It doesn’t,” Justin insisted.  “Even if it does, it doesn’t.  Nothing matters.  I’m taking him down, we’re taking them all down.  Dan doesn’t get a free pass for being nice.  Hell, Ashley’s nice, Trevor’s nice, Erik’s nice, and I’m dying to fuck them up.”

        “Nice isn’t good,” JC said.  “Don’t get them confused.”

        Chris didn’t want to talk about it anymore.  “What’s the purpose of this meeting?”

        “Before we get to that, maybe we should make sure we’re all still in this,” Joey said.  “Is anyone having second thoughts?”

        “No,” Lance said.

        “No,” JC said.

        “No,” Justin said.

        Chris had been having thoughts, but he wouldn’t define them as second thoughts.  He wanted to keep going; he wanted to push through to the end.  Quitting wasn’t an option.  He wanted to teach the little fuckers a lesson.  He also wanted to do what Brian wanted him to do.  “No.”

        “Let’s sit down,” Joey said.

        Erik went to the kitchen and began to poke through the cupboards.  What did he want to eat?  More importantly, what did he feel like making?

        “Hey.”  Jacob came in, opening the refrigerator.

        Erik could - - no, too much work.  What else…

        Jacob tapped his fingers on the refrigerator door, drumming out a rhythm, humming to himself.

        Erik looked over at him.  “What’s with you?”

        “Hmm?”  Jacob closed the refrigerator and opened the freezer.

        “You get laid while I was gone?” Erik asked.  “Meet a new girl?”

        “What?”  Jacob closed the freezer door, turning to face Erik.  He’d tied his hair back and put on silver jewelry.  Lately, Jacob was into leather jewelry for everyday wear, and silver for special occasions.  Something was going on.  The humming wasn’t all that unusual, but the tapping was, especially combined with the way Jacob seemed to be vibrating.  Jacob wasn’t every day happy, enthusiastic about life happy, Ashley happy, on a regular basis.  He actually got less that way the longer Erik knew him.

        “Something’s up,” Erik said.  “What’ve you been doing today?”

        “Nothing,” Jacob said.  He put his hands in his pockets.  “Brian came over.  We talked for a while.”

        “Brian who?” Erik asked.

        “Brian Boitano,” Jacob said.

        “What would Brian Boitano do?” Trevor asked, walking in, nudging Jacob aside to get to the fridge.

        “What?” Jacob asked.

        “‘South Park,’ the movie, the song, the - - forget about it,” Trevor said.  “What are we talking about?”

        Erik remembered Jacob talking to a certain guy named Brian the night before, at the club, but Jacob wouldn’t really - - “Brian Littrell?”

        “Yeah, Brian Littrell,” Jacob said.

        Erik burst into laughter.

        “What?  What?” Trevor asked, wanting to join in the fun.

        “Why is that funny?” Jacob demanded.

        “It’s not funny, it’s hilarious!” Erik said, gasping between laughs.  “You were hanging out with Brian Littrell?  You invited him over to your house!”

        “He was here?” Trevor demanded.  “In our house?”

        “It’s not a big deal,” Jacob snapped.

        “Is he coming back?” Trevor asked.

        “Probably,” Jacob said.

        “Of course he’s coming back!” Erik exclaimed, laughing.  “They’re best friends!  Jacob’s always wanted to-”

        “Shut up,” Jacob said.

        “Wait, wait,” Erik said, catching his breath.  “Seriously, you have to tell me, you’ve gotta explain this.  I noticed you two huddled up together last night, but I got over it.  Now he’s coming over to the house?”

        “Brian’s in the Backstreet Boys,” Jacob said.  “That doesn’t make him a Backstreet Boy.”

        “What?” Erik asked.

        “He’s in the group,” Jacob said.  “That doesn’t mean he’s part of that arrogant better-than-the-world lifestyle.  What I hate about them is what they’ve made themselves out to be.  He’s not into that.”

        “So he’s in the group, but he’s not one of them?” Erik asked.

        “Brian’s different,” Jacob said.  “I can relate to him.  I can’t even talk to them.”

        “And you’ve tried, so often, so hard,” Erik said.

        “Brian Littrell in my house,” Trevor said to himself.

        “What about your conspiracy theory?” Erik asked.

        “What?” Jacob asked.

        “You kept trying to say how weird it was that anyone wanted to hang out with us, and how it can’t all be coincidence, so they must be up to something.  You think Brian’s up to something?”

        “Brian’s not up to anything,” Jacob said.  “He’s real.  We talked about music.  He doesn’t want anything from me.”

        “I can’t believe he was in our house and nobody told me,” Trevor said.

        “He’s just a guy,” Jacob said.

        “I’m sorry,” Trevor said.  “Once your album goes fucking diamond, you’re no longer just a guy.”

        Lance was on one sofa with Joey and JC, Chris and Justin on the other.  “We’re going right back into old habits,” he said.  “We’re giving them the upper hand again.  We can’t do that.  We have to stand up for ourselves.”

        “We’re supposed to be in this together, the ten of us,” Joey added.  “Why are they trying to call all of the shots?”

        “We have to stand up to them,” Lance said.

        “I might be willing to roll over for AJ, but Nick’s nobody to me,” Joey said.  “Lance has a thing with Howie, but who the hell is Brian to tell him what to do?”

        “We have to change this whole dynamic before things get worse,” Lance said.

        “How?” Chris asked.

        “By standing up for ourselves,” Lance said.  “By not giving in just because they think they’re better than we are.  Jacob thinks he’s better than we are, too.  Would we do whatever he wanted?”

        “I’m in,” JC said.  “You’re right.  We can’t get sucked down that spiral again.”

        Justin stood, pacing across the room.  “It’s not that easy,” he told the wall before turning to face them.  “It’s not that easy,” he insisted.

        “Why not?” Lance asked.

        “It’s not,” Justin said.  “Trust me.  There’s a lot you guys don’t understand.”

        “I understand what I saw last night,” Lance said.  “I saw AJ kicking you out of the club.  I saw Chris having a complete breakdown.  I can’t watch him go through this anymore.  I can’t put myself through this anymore.  We’ve gone through hell, and I think we’ve earned the right to meet them on their level.”

        “It wasn’t a complete breakdown,” Chris said.  “Maybe eighty-five percent.”

        “We’ve always said that we can accomplish anything,” Lance said.  “We’ve proven it to the world, over and over and over again.”

        “All we have to do is stick together,” Joey said.  “Stand up for ourselves and for each other.”

        “Standing up for you, I have no problem standing up for you,” Justin said.  “Standing up for myself - - maybe you can stand up for yourself with AJ, great, good for you.  I don’t know what things are like when you’re alone with Howie,” he told Lance, “but I know it’s nothing like what happens when I’m alone with Kevin.  You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

        “Then why do you put up with it?” Lance asked.

        “For the same reason you keep going back to Howie,” Justin said.  “For the same reason Chris keeps calling Brian.”

        “Howie doesn’t call me an egocentric worthless cunt,” Lance said.

        “Hey,” Joey said quickly, sharply.  “Lance.”

        “Why do you keep going back for that?” Lance asked Justin.  “You’re worth more than that.  You don’t deserve it.”

        “I told you I didn’t want to do this,” Justin said.  “I told you not to bring them into it.  You fucked me over so you could run back into Howie’s bed again.  Now you’re asking me why I’m this fucked up again?  I wouldn’t be this screwed if you hadn’t put me back in this situation!”

        “He has a point,” Chris said.

        “I told you I couldn’t do this,” Justin said.

        “You’re stronger than this!” Lance said.  “You’re better than this!  You’re letting him drag you down.  You don’t have to give a fuck what he says.  That’s your choice.”

        “When Kevin looks you right in the eye and tells you what to do, you don’t have a choice,” Justin said.  “You all can decide whatever you want.  That’s up to you.  I’m still in this, I still want to put Dan through fucking hell on earth.  But you’re no better than me.  You want to be in Howie’s bed right this second just as much as I want to be in Kevin’s.  Until that changes, I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

        Howie opened the door for Brian.  “Come on in.”

        Brian could hear AJ’s laughter from down the hallway.  “Sounds like I’m missing fun.”

        “We’re having a viewing party,” Howie said.

        “Your office last night?” Brian asked, walking with him down the hall.

        “My office, AJ brought the tape from Justin’s party at Junction 58, and Kevin taped Justin last night.”

        They walked into the room where Kevin, AJ, and Nick were lounging on armchairs and couches.  They were watching the screen covering the far wall, where JC was rubbing Erik’s dick.  Brian took one look and said, “I hope you’re having that sofa burned.”

        “I’ve already ordered the new one,” Howie said, resuming his seat on a leather recliner.

        Brian sat beside Nick, tugging off his shoes.  “This is interesting.”

        Kevin shook his head.  “We should send this to ‘America’s Funniest Home Videos.’”

        “Chris’s first blowjob was funnier,” AJ said.  “That was hilarious.”

        “The first time you fucked Joey was hilarious,” Nick said.  “I want to watch that one again.”

        Erik came.

        Nick snickered.

        “If he got that slime on my shirt, he’d owe me a new wardrobe,” Kevin said.

        “His dick’s not as small as I thought it was going to be,” Howie said.

        “God, no,” AJ said, grimacing as JC put his fingers in Erik’s mouth.  “That’s not attractive.  He’s just going to slobber on your fingers like he slobbered all over your face.”

        “He’s not even going to touch JC’s dick, is he?” Brian asked.

        “He still thinks he’s straight,” Howie said.

        Kevin snorted.

        “JC has a nice dick,” AJ said.

        “JC has a nice ass,” Kevin said.

        “JC has a nice everything,” Nick said.  “That’s why I still fuck him.”

        “I wonder what Jacob’s dick looks like,” Howie said.

        “You’ll never know unless you buy a microscope,” Kevin said.

        “It can’t be as thick as Chris’s,” Nick said.

        “At least he won’t make those ‘eh eh eh’ noises Chris makes,” AJ said.  “I would’ve gagged him.”

        Onscreen, the door closed.  JC jumped up, yanking off his shirt, disgusted.  Everyone burst into laughter.  “If Erik only knew,” AJ said, as JC spat into Howie’s trash can.

        The Howie on the tape asked, “How big is it?”

        Nick burst into fresh laughter.  “You made him describe it?”

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

        “He looked like he wanted to bathe in disinfectant,” Howie said.

        “Than what?” Howie asked onscreen.

        Brian was laughing harder than Nick.

        “Mine,” JC said.  He hesitated.  “Yours.”

        While Nick and Brian were in hysterics, AJ rewound the tape to watch that part again.

        After they’d watched JC a few more times, Kevin asked, “What’s next?  Junction 58, or Justin last night?”

        “Last night,” Nick said, recovering from his laughter.  “How many times does he break down crying?”

        “Just one,” Kevin said.  “But he starts babbling about how much he hates himself.”

        “He’s so fucking pathetic when he does that,” AJ said.

        “Justin’s fucking pathetic all of the time,” Brian said.  “They all are.”

Continue on to part eight...

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