Copyright November 24, 2002-December 10, 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 stuff and things.

Continued from part eight...

        The door opened.  It was Ashley, looking like he’d just crawled his ass out of bed.  AJ snorted, pushing him aside in mid-sentence, striding into the house.  “Justin!”

        “You can’t just - - what are you-”

        “Justin!”  Howie had given him a description of the layout.  AJ headed for the stairs.  “Justin!”  Ashley was scurrying behind him, trying to keep up.  “Which room is he in?”

        “He’s not - - you can’t just - - hey-”

        AJ shoved open the first door, kicked open the second.  “Justin!”

        The third door opened in his face.  Dan, the white knight.  “Get out of my house.”

        AJ was faintly impressed, but it wasn’t like Dan was going to stop him.  “Justin!”  He pushed Dan aside and-

        -Dan was right back in his way.  “I told you to leave,” Dan said.

        “What are you doing here?” Justin asked, coming up behind Dan’s shoulder.  He looked surprised, confused, which was the point; that was why AJ hadn’t clued him in on this part of the plan.

        “I’m taking you home,” AJ said.  “I should have known you’d run off to your little boyfriend.”

        “Justin’s not going anywhere with you,” Dan said.

        “Yes, he is, aren’t you?” AJ asked Justin, putting steel into his voice, dangerous glitter in his eyes.

        “I’ll go home,” Justin said.  He narrowed his gaze, straightening his spine.  “As long as I never have to see you again.”

        Wrong answer, bitch.  AJ reached past Dan, grabbing Justin’s wrist, jerking him forward.  “Get your ass outside.  I’ll tell you when you see me and when you don’t.  Don’t you ever-”  Dan grabbed his arm, trying to intervene.  AJ whirled around, slamming his fist into Dan’s face.  “You don’t lay a hand on me!”  Leaving Dan slumped against the bureau, AJ shoved Justin through the doorway.  “I told you to get outside!”  Ignoring Dan’s “Justin!” and Ashley’s stunned face, AJ shoved Justin into the banister, watching his eyes widen.  “I had a good night without you, and I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.  You’re going to sit your ass in your car and drive home, and we’re going to talk about this like two,” he pressed his thigh between Justin’s legs, “fucking,” he increased the pressure, “adults,” he pushed in hard until Justin went “ow” and pain registered on his face.  “Okay?” AJ growled.

        “Yes,” Justin whispered.

        “Good.”  AJ let go, stepping back.  “I’ll see you at home.”

        Justin swallowed, looking past AJ, probably at Dan.  But he had the sense to straighten his clothes and go downstairs.

        Ignoring Dan, who was insignificant now that AJ was through with him, AJ followed Justin.

        He couldn’t believe he’d had to leave perfectly good sex for this bullshit.

        Chris dropped back again.  Well.  Wasn’t this…different.

        Sighing, he reached down and scratched his fingers through Trevor’s hair.

        He had to pee, but this felt nice.  He’d stay a little longer.

        “I have to get him away from AJ,” Dan said.  “I have to get AJ to leave him alone.”

        “I can’t believe he hit you,” Ashley said.

        “The day of our photo shoot,” Dan said.  “I have to be in front of a camera in a few hours, and he fucking hit me.  In the face.”

        “The make-up people are going to kill you,” Ashley said.  “I can’t believe he hit you.  Did you see the way he grabbed Justin?  He’s mental.”

        “Where’s everybody else?” Dan asked.

        “I guess they’re…”  Ashley frowned.  “They aren’t home yet.”

        “I’ll call them,” Dan said.  “Go check on Jacob.”

        “I can’t believe he hit you,” Ashley said.  “He’s fucking psycho.”  Taking a last look, Ashley walked from the kitchen and across the pool area.  AJ McLean was dating Justin Timberlake, was abusive, and had assaulted Dan.  It was like a tabloid headline.  The other guys were going to flip.  He knocked on Jacob’s door.  There was no answer.  He tapped again, then opened the door slowly.

        Jacob was in bed, curled up on one side, fast asleep.  His dreads had fallen forward onto his face, and his cell phone was inches from his hand, like it had just slipped from his grasp.

        “Jacob,” Ashley said, gently shaking his shoulder.  Jacob was so damned skinny.  “Jake.  Jake.”

        Jacob made a faint, pained sound and squinted up at him.  “Ash?”

        “We have a photo shoot, Erik and Trevor are AWOL, and AJ just came over and punched Dan’s face,” Ashley said.  “I think we need you.”

        Jacob groaned, pushing his face into the pillow.  “What the hell?”

        “Dan’s calling Erik and Trevor.  I think Erik was going over to Howie’s house, or maybe JC’s.  Trevor’s probably at Chris’s house.”

        Jacob muttered something that sounded like “Of course he is,” and sat up, pushing his hair back from his face.  “What time is it?”

        “Eight,” Ashley said.  “What time did you go to sleep?”

        “Six,” Jacob said.  “Or seven.”

        “You-”

        “I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” Jacob said, hitting business mode, getting up.  “Let me check on Dan, let’s track down Erik and Trevor, we’ll get ready for the shoot.”

        “It’s not a game,” AJ said, with a cutting glare.  “I’m deadly serious, and so is everybody else.  Maybe that’s your problem.”

        “My problem is you!” Justin shouted.  “You’re my problem, Dan’s my problem, Kevin’s my fucking problem!  He’s destroying my fucking life!”

        “You’re destroying your life!” AJ accused, in his space, pointing a finger at him.  “You can’t blame Kevin for the pathetic waste you’ve made of yourself.  That was you, baby, it was all you.”

        “It was him, it was you, it was all of you, the five of you, you’re monsters, you’re sociopaths, you should be locked up somewhere!  What are you betting on this time, who can get the most people chasing after his dick?”

        “What?” AJ asked, a quick look of bewilderment crossing his face.  “We’re not betting on anything.  I told you, this isn’t a fucking game!”

        “Don’t fucking lie to me!  Chris told us!  Two million dollars for which one of you fucked one of us up the most.  What is it this time, raise the stakes, four million?”

        “I work too damned hard for my money to waste it on one of you,” AJ snapped.  “Let’s get something straight.  This isn’t a game, it’s not a bet, and nobody’s playing with you.  I’m out for blood.  It’s supposed to be Dan’s, but I’ll spill some of yours if I have to.”

        “You know they have a photo shoot today,” Justin said.

        “That’s his fucking problem,” AJ said.  “I’m yours.”

        “Yeah,” Justin snapped.  “I got that.”

        “Good.  Now get this.  As of right now, you are mine.  This house is mine.  Everything you are, everything you own, is mine.  Don’t give your ass to anyone without consulting me first.  Don’t throw anything in the pool unless I tell you to.  Don’t ever say no to me in front of Dan.”

        “I’m not going to pretend to be some crying whining kicked dog so you can prove something!”

        AJ glared at him.  “You won’t have to pretend.”

        Justin glared back.

        “You have a few precious hours to yourself,” AJ said.  “I’ll be back here before their little shoot’s over, in case Dan decides to drop by.”  He turned away.

        “I fucking hate you!”

        “Works for me,” AJ said on his way out the door.

        “Your phone’s ringing.”  Chris’s voice.  “I was going to let you sleep, but this is the third time they’ve called.”

        “Who is it?” Trevor mumbled.

        “It was Dan,” Chris said.  “Now it’s Jacob.”

        Trevor’s eyes snapped open.

        Chris, standing by the bed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, handed him his cell phone.  Trevor took the phone, putting it to his ear, taking Chris’s wrist in his other hand.  “Hello?” he asked.

        “Where the hell are you?” Jacob asked.  “We have a shoot in an hour.”

        Shit.  “Shit.  Shit.  I’ll be right there.”

        “Good.”  Jacob hung up.

        “Shit.”  Trevor stood and looked at Chris.  “I have to go, we have a shoot, by the time I get home I’ll have five minutes to shower before we have to start driving, I need to have my ass kicked.  Can I come over here after that?”

        “If you want to,” Chris said.

        “Good, great, I’m sorry, I have to go.”  On impulse, he kissed Chris’s mouth, and god, that was good.  “I’ll see you later, thanks for letting me stay,” and he ran.

        “I don’t know,” Ashley said.

        “Call your best friend Joey and ask him,” Jacob said, reaching for his phone.

        “Who are you calling?” Ashley asked.

        “Brian.  He’ll have Howie’s number, in case Erik’s there.”

        “Brian Littrell?” Ashley asked.

        “Yes, Brian Littrell!  Why does everyone have such a big problem with that?!” he demanded.

        “Erik’s right,” Ashley said.

        “About what?” he asked sharply.  Voice mail.  He hit redial.

        “We should be able to medicate you when you don’t get enough sleep.”

        Jacob glared at him.

        “He’s not answering,” Ashley said.

        Neither was Brian.  Damn it.  “Call Trevor, get him to ask Chris what JC’s number is.  Home, cell, everything.  I’ll be back in a minute.”

        “Where are you going?” Ashley asked, already dialing.

        “To shave,” Jacob snapped.  “I have to look pretty so I can get my picture taken.”

        Quietly, amused, “Good luck.”

        “I heard that!”

        AJ had been in his house all night, but that didn’t explain everything.  Why would AJ come on his bathroom floor?  AJ wouldn’t masturbate on his bathroom floor; that was crazy.  So AJ had been having sex on his bathroom floor?  What in the-

        Joey.

        Justin stared at his bed, then looked away quickly.  Joey.  That was - - he didn’t - - why?  No, not why, he knew why.  Joey wanted AJ.  Joey would have sex upside-down wearing rollerblades in a nunnery for AJ.

        He stripped the bed, dumping his towels and bedclothes in the washing machine.  He straightened up the living room and remade his bed.  That bed was seeing a lot of action lately.  Him, Kevin, AJ, Joey.

        He wondered if he’d have to fuck Dan in that bed.  He didn’t want to have sex with Dan, but sleeping with Dan was, well, it had its benefits.  He’d felt a sense of security in Dan’s arms.  Dan couldn’t protect him from anything, not from AJ or from Kevin, but the illusion had been soothing in its own way.

        He should probably eat something.  Maybe first he’d - - whoa!

        Justin stared, standing on the threshold of his walk-in closet, one hand still on the door.

        His videocamera stared back.  It was there, on the tripod.  Waiting for him like a goddamned ghost.

        Once his heart had stopped racing, Justin stepped further into the closet.  It wasn’t actually his camera.  It was a different model, and it looked even more expensive than his old one.

        There was a red bow sitting neatly on top.  Justin ripped it off.

        He’d let Kevin do things to him.  He’d let Kevin degrade him, humiliate him, scar him, make him doubt himself, make him hate himself, and make him betray himself.  But he loved Kevin, and AJ was not Kevin.  AJ was nobody, AJ was nothing to him.  Lance was right.  He had to stand up for himself.  He couldn’t stand up for himself against Kevin, but he didn’t give one flying fuck about AJ.

        It was time for a few things to change.

        “Where were you?” Ashley asked, coming out of the kitchen.

        “Chris!” Trevor called back.  “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be ready in five minutes!  Did you get Erik?”

        “No!  His phone’s still off and JC isn’t answering!”

        “Try Howie!” he shouted, slamming into the bathroom.  Water on, clothes off, he was way late but thank god for Erik; he always looked good in comparison.

        He was officially bi now.  He felt good about it.  He liked guys, he wanted guys, he was really into guys, and he was finally doing something about it.  It was like opening up a whole other half of his brain.

        And Chris, Chris was fun, and smart, and crazy, and complicated, and creative, and experienced, and really, really sexy in unique, Chris ways.  Trevor wanted to have something with him.  He didn’t know what, exactly, but something.  Something where he could keep feeling warm and happy and attracted, only more of it.

        He wanted to be Chris’s friend, at the very least.  That, he was sure of.  But between him and anything more, there was a huge roadblock in the shape of Kevin Richardson.  Maybe if he talked to Kevin about it, he could come to some sort of solution.

        Not that Kevin wanted to talk to him about it.  They’d only had one conversation in their whole lives.  A long conversation, sure, but one night didn’t constitute a friendship.  Still, the fact that talking to Kevin about anything at all was even a remote possibility, was huge.

        Maybe he could try it.  It was worth a shot.  What was the worst thing that could happen?

        The phone rang.  Why were people always calling him?  He was going to get an unlisted number.  Wait, he already had an unlisted number.  Then why were people always calling him?  He picked up the phone.  “Why are you calling me?”

        “Trevor didn’t sleep at home last night.”

        “Whoa, you’re psychic,” Chris said.  “Guess what I’m thinking.”

        “Be at my house.”  Kevin hung up on him.

        “Kiss my sexy ass,” Chris said, and sat back to finish his cereal.

        Donald quacked at him.

        Chris hesitated.

        Donald quacked again.

        Kevin was Brian’s best friend, bandmate, and cousin.

        Kill them before he kills you.

        Chris set aside his cereal, turning off the TV, getting up to get dressed.

        JC’s eyes opened.  The hatred in his eyes made Howie wonder if he’d slept at all, or if he’d simply lain awake all night, letting things fester.  It was almost a shame for JC to waste perfectly good sleep like that, since it didn’t matter how JC felt about any of this.

        “Stay here,” Howie whispered, and slid from the bed.  Pulling on a robe, he turned the clock aside, shifting a candle in front of it.  He got the paper, started coffee, and took a shower, slipping into casual clothes.  Then he crawled back over JC.  “Wake up, baby,” he said, kissing JC’s cheek.  “Wake up, JC.”  JC’s venomous glare would have chilled his blood, if he’d cared.  “Good morning,” he murmured sweetly, and kissed JC’s mouth.

        JC bit his tongue and pulled his hair, hard.

        Howie lifted his head, smiling warmly.  He glanced over and feigned surprise at seeing Erik awake.  “Good morning, Erik-Michael.”  He dropped a kiss on Erik’s cheek.  “I’m about to start breakfast.  Don’t you two stay in bed too long.”  He winked and slid off of JC, leaving the room.

        His memory also supplied other helpful images, like JC’s naked body being taken from behind by Howie.  Erik had never been in the same room as something like that before.  Sure, he’d shared rooms with the other guys, and there had been some action, but hard-core male-on-male Howie-fucking-JC sex?  It blew his mind.  Those low, soft, groaning, we’re in love and you’re so freaking hot, sounds.  Rhythmic sounds, skin on skin.  Howie’s hands on JC’s body, everywhere, explicit, shaping JC’s flesh.  JC was incredible, the sight of JC having sex was incredible, the very idea of JC having sex was incredible.  And Howie, god, Erik had to get closer to that.  He didn’t know which one of them he wanted more.

        Apparently Howie trusted JC, and trusted Erik, and was comfortable with leaving them together and coming home to find them naked in bed.  Now if only Erik could get that to include actual sex.  Or to include Howie.

        JC kissed him lightly.  “Do you want to get in the shower first?”

        “No,” Erik said.  “You can go ahead.”  He wanted to bask.  And maybe plan.

        “Okay.”  JC kissed him again and got up, walking ass naked to the bathroom.  God, that was a lot of flawlessness for one person.  Erik could get used to this.

        “Be right there!” Ashley called back, scribbling a hasty note.

        “We can stop by JC’s on the way,” Trevor said.

        “We don’t know where it is,” Ashley said.

        “Chris knows.”

        “We don’t have that kind of time,” Ashley said, sticking tape on the back of the note.

        “It’s better to be late with all five of us, than on time without Erik,” Trevor said.

        “Guys!” Jacob shouted.

        “Coming!” Ashley said, already on his way.

        “We’re taking two cars,” Dan said.

        “You call Chris, ask him where JC’s house is and where Howie lives,” Jacob told Trevor.  “You two go to one, we’re going to the other.  They don’t answer the phone, but they’re going to answer the door.”

        He got trash bags and threw everything AJ owned into it.  Clothes, shoes, sunglasses, hats, magazines, toothbrush, gel, mascara.  He fished the bedding and camera from his pool.  He put the bags into his car, drove around until he found a dumpster, and dumped it all in there.

        Then he went home, put his new videocamera and tripod into the guest room bathtub with a bunch of newspaper, and set it on fire.

        Then he cleared the living room, turned up the stereo, and danced.

        The door opened, and Chris noticed that Kevin was angry.  What with the loom, the glare, and the eyebrows, it was hard to miss.  “Get in here,” Kevin ordered, backing up for him.

        Chris walked into the foyer.  “So.  Nice day outside.  You really should get some sun.”  He remembered rubbing lotion onto Brian’s sunburned shoulders, Brian licking his sunburned ears, laughter, kisses, sex…

        Kevin slammed the door.

        “Read any good books lately?”

        “I tried being nice,” Kevin said.  “At the time, it seemed like the best way to get through to you.  But you took advantage of my generosity, and now your free ride is over.”

        “Do you have anything to eat?  Your call interrupted my breakfast.”

        “From now on, you are going to report in to me every time you see Trevor, every time you speak to Trevor, every time the name ‘Trevor’ crosses the dried fecal matter that passes for your mind.  If he calls you and invites himself over, you call me before he gets there and after he leaves.  Do you understand me?”

        Kevin was one of the loudest, most glowery people Chris knew.  “Sir, yes, sir,” he said, and saluted.

        “When we make plans, you stick to them.  When I tell you to do something, you do it, and you do it right.  I don’t have the time or the patience to fix everything you screw up.  Now go over there, sit down, and tell me everything that’s happened between you and Trevor.”

        “Can I use your phone?”

        “Sit!  Down!”

        Chris sat.  His phone rang.

        “Who is it?” Kevin asked.

        “Trevor,” he said, checking.

        “What does he want?”

        “I don’t know.  Maybe they’re still trying to track down Erik.”

        “Don’t answer it.”

        Chris put his phone back in his pocket.  “Sir, yes, sir.”

        “Neither’s Joey,” Ashley admitted.

        “Neither’s Justin,” Dan said.  He hadn’t wanted to bother Justin, but when he’d finally tried Justin’s phone, there had been no answer.

        “Neither’s Brian,” Jacob said.  “We’re going to have to go without him.”

        “He’ll show up,” Ashley said.  “He always does.”

        “Omelettes,” Howie said.  “Do you want some coffee?”

        “Yeah, sure.”  He accepted the mug that Howie handed him.  Hey.  “What’s in this?”

        “It’s Yauco Selecto,” Howie said with a smile.

        Erik grinned.  “I like it.”

        “I’m glad.  JC only likes Colombian blends,” Howie said with an affectionately forgiving smile in JC’s direction.  He began to set plates on the table.  “I’m sorry I was gone so long last night.  It took me a while to talk AJ down.  Go on, have a seat.”

        “This looks great,” Erik said.  “All we eat at our house is cereal, cereal, or cereal.”

        “How did things go last night?” Howie asked, handing him a fork.

        Erik didn’t know how to begin to answer that question.  He glanced at JC, who smiled and said, “It’s all right.  I told Howie everything.  We don’t have any secrets.”

        “It was…wild,” Erik said.  “I can tell you I’ve never had another night like it.”

        “I’m sure you haven’t,” Howie said with a little smile, like he was proud of JC.

        Erik decided to be bold.  “I was sort of hoping you’d get back earlier.”

        “I did miss all of the fun,” Howie said.  He ran his fingers through his hair, silver ring catching the light.  “But maybe we can have more fun today.”

        Oh, yeah.  Erik loved this house.

        It was Joey.  “Come back later,” Nick said, closing the door.  He went back to bed.  The doorbell chimed a few more times, but he dragged the covers over his head and went back to sleep.

        “I’ll cooperate,” Chris said.

        “Why?”  He needed to know which buttons to push.  Chris’s buttons were obvious, but he wanted to hear it from Chris’s own mouth.

        “I think it’s what Brian wants,” Chris said.  He had his feet up on the chair with him and was playing with a paper clip, head down, eyes on his hands.  Kevin wasn’t going to chew him out for having his feet on the furniture, since he’d taken his shoes off.  “I don’t know what Brian wants, I don’t have a clue, but it seems like he’d want me to cooperate with you instead of not cooperating with you.  And I want to get Jacob, and hurting Trevor is the next best thing.”

        “You like Trevor,” Kevin said.

        “I like Trevor,” Chris said without inflection.  “I really like Trevor a lot.  That’s not going to slow me down.”

        Kevin crossed his arms over his chest.  He could tolerate this.  “I’m willing to put up with you if you can learn to obey orders.”

        “Thanks,” Chris told his paper clip.

        “I have somewhere to be, but there’s time.  Do you want me to fuck you?”

        Chris sighed.  “You’d better not.”

        “Good.  You can go.”

        Chris stood, stepping into his shoes.  Meeting Kevin’s eyes, he asked, “Can I use your phone?”

        “No.”

        Chris left.

        Kevin narrowed his eyes, thinking.  Would it be better for him if he involved Brian, or worse?

        Worse.  Chris would be absolutely useless to him if Brian were anywhere near the picture.  At least in this state, Chris was malleable.

        With that, Kevin put Chris out of his mind and moved on with his day.

        “About what?” Erik asked.

        “About how far you’re willing to take this,” Howie said.  His fingers brushed the back of Erik’s neck; Erik tried to hide his shiver.  “I understand that you’re not used to this kind of situation.  It’s new to us, too.  JC and I are willing to open our relationship to you, if you’re willing to open up to us.”

        “I’m open,” Erik said quickly.  “I’m wide open.”

        “Are you?” Howie asked, tilting his head to one side.  “Emotionally?  Sexually?”

        Howie’s gaze was sizing him up, weighing him, and Erik wanted desperately to be good enough, mature enough, sexually open enough.  “I’m down for anything,” he promised.

        “You’re used to being with women,” Howie said.  “We’re men.”

        “I’ve noticed,” Erik said.

        “But are you willing to deal with that?” Howie asked.  “Are you willing to be with another man?”

        “Yes, yes,” Erik said, trying to sound definite about it.  He’d been all over JC last night; he’d had JC’s dick naked in his hand.

        “Are you willing to make love to another man?”

        “Yes, I want to,” Erik said.  “Ask JC, I was begging him.”

        Howie wasn’t satisfied.  “Are you willing to give head to another man?”

        Whoa.  Uh…  Erik hesitated, looking to JC for help.  “I’ve never done anything like that,” he confessed.

        Howie began to draw back.

        “But I can learn,” Erik said quickly.  “I’m willing to learn.”

        Howie relaxed, giving him a smile.  Proud of him, pleased with him.  “If you’re willing to learn, JC’s willing to teach you.”

        Despite the whole dick-in-his-mouth thing, that sounded sexy.  “When?”

        “Right now,” Howie said.  “What do you think, right here?” he asked JC.  “Or the bed?”

        JC took a second to answer.  “Right here,” he said.

        “Then come here,” Howie invited JC, holding out a hand.  JC got up, taking his hand, coming to kneel astride him on the sofa.  They kissed, making soft aroused breathy sounds, until Erik started getting serious urges to touch himself.  JC was kneading between Howie’s thighs in a way Erik would have killed to feel.  Then they parted, JC slipping down between Howie’s legs, Howie leaning back.

        Erik realized that he was about to see Howie’s dick.  He sat forward, becoming extra attentive.  JC took his wrist, pulling him down to kneel beside JC, by Howie’s left knee.  Erik wasn’t sure about putting a dick in his own mouth, but he definitely wanted to see JC do it.  JC was opening Howie’s pants.  If JC’s dick was that good-looking, Howie’s had to be-

        Oh…  Wow.  It was gorgeous, flushed dark, hard and rising up, curved just slightly, the head smooth and glistening with pre-cum.  The dark nest of Howie’s pubic hair made his fingers twitch, wanting to touch.  His gaze flashed up to Howie’s face; Howie smiled at him, putting a foot in his lap, naked toes nudging his groin.  Erik’s dick hardened, and he felt himself turning red, aroused and a little embarrassed by Howie’s attention.

        “Watch JC go through it for you, and then you can try,” Howie said.

        “Okay,” Erik said, his voice catching a little between syllables.  He turned his attention to JC.

        JC took Howie’s erection in one hand, pumping it lightly.  Erik’s dick stiffened in sympathy.  And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, JC bent his head, opening his mouth.  He ran his tongue up in a slide from the base to the head, then licked around the crown before going down again.  Erik looked up; Howie was leaning back, eyes closed, hands relaxed.  How could he be that calm?  About getting head?  From JC?  As Erik watched, Howie licked his lips.  Wet.  Soft.  Howie made a soft, breathy moan of pleasure, and Erik’s dick twitched; Howie’s toes rubbed under his balls and his dick jumped.  That was when he remembered that he was supposed to be paying attention to Howie’s dick, not his own, and he looked down again.

        JC had started sucking.  Slow, wet sucking, eyes closed, lips wrapped around Howie’s dick, one hand holding Howie’s erection steady, the other hand curved over Howie’s hip.  It didn’t look difficult, mostly an issue of coordination.  If he could learn choreography, he could learn this.

        Howie sighed, massaging Erik’s dick with his toes.  Erik choked back a sudden moan, putting his hand over Howie’s foot.  He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to encourage Howie, or stop him.  He didn’t know how Howie could still be relaxed, with JC sucking like that.  Erik knew from personal experience how deep-down good the suction from JC’s mouth was.  He’d been tensed up and trying not to come by this point.

        “Erik-Michael,” Howie murmured.  He stroked his own thigh; as Erik looked up, his eyes opened.  “Are you ready?”

        JC raised his head with a soft, wet sound.

        If he said no, what would happen?  This was a test.  If he didn’t do this, he wasn’t ready for their world, and they’d think he was too young, too immature, too inexperienced.  They were sophisticated, worldly, open to new experiences and different ways of thinking.  He wanted to be open, too.

        Also, his dick was really hard, and if he did this, maybe he’d get to fuck JC.

        Erik reached over, replacing JC’s hand on Howie’s dick.  It was hard, and slick, and it pulsed against his palm.  He could do this.  No problem.  JC shifted aside, and he moved in, Howie’s foot dropping from his lap.  He tried to turn his wrist at the right angle, using the smooth, ripple-grip pumping action JC had taught him last night.

        Howie breathed softly.

        This was daunting.  He couldn’t do this if Howie didn’t even act like it felt good.  Or maybe that was the challenge.  To get Howie to react.  But if JC couldn’t do it, how did he have a chance?

        “I’ll coach you through it,” JC said, voice soft by his ear.  JC moved in behind him, chest to his back, thighs hugging his hips.  “Try licking the head.  Soft, smooth, just say hello.”

        Erik swallowed.  It was so…obscene looking.  Someone else’s dick in his hand.  Some other guy’s naked hard-on in his hand.  He wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

        Howie and JC were going to open their relationship to him, if he opened up to them.  If he did this, he’d be in.

        Erik stuck his tongue out and licked the head once, slowly.

        Hunh.  It wasn't that bad.

        JC’s hand adjusted his grip, lower and looser.  “Squeeze from the base, lick from the head,” JC said.  “Meet in the middle.”

        Squeeze-lick, lick-squeeze.  It took a few tries, but he picked up a flow.  He was licking up precum, so Howie must have been enjoying his technique, but Howie wasn’t moaning or groaning or anything.  How was he supposed to know what Howie liked?

        “Close your mouth around it,” JC said.  “As much as you can fit without choking.”

        Erik swallowed and guided the head between his lips, closing his eyes.  It felt thick, heavy, and he swallowed again, wondering where to put his tongue.  He felt JC adjust his grip again, heard JC say, “Up and down, together.  One motion.  Soft mouth, steady suction, not too much.”

        Too much?  What was too much?  What was not enough?  How could he keep his mouth soft, and suck at the same time?  He was used to the meet-in-the-middle move now, and it took him a second to shift gears.  Up, down, up, down, but he couldn’t move much at all, because he didn’t want to gag himself.  How did anybody do this?  How had JC learned this?

        “A little harder,” JC said.  “A little, there you go, that’s good, honey, you’ve got it, right there.  Can you take it in your mouth?”

        Take what in his mouth, he already - - oh, no, no, he was not ready for that.  He was never going to be ready for that.  Erik lifted his head, staring at Howie’s dick, hand frozen, wondering when it was going to erupt.

        “You have to take it in your mouth,” JC whispered in his ear, like it was secret information.  “Do you want me to take over?”

        Wait.  Wait, wait.  He had a big decision to make, and not enough time to make it.  He had to pass this test, he had to prove himself.  If he let JC take over, he’d fail.  But he didn’t want Howie to come in his mouth.  That was nasty, that was gross, that was taking things way too fucking far, and he’d just choke and humiliate himself anyway.

        “I’ll do it,” JC said.

        “No,” Erik said, and put his mouth back on it, closing his eyes and sucking hard until he felt Howie’s dick jerk.  There were three hard spurts, filling his mouth with bitter cum.  He swallowed, choking as quietly as he could, giving a final lick and letting go, backing up, trying not to grimace.  God, that was disgusting.  He needed to gargle or something.

        Howie hadn’t even moaned.  He’d gasped, if that counted.

        Erik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up to Howie’s face.  Was he in?

        Howie smiled, sitting up.  “Looks like you’ll be needing a toothbrush.”

        He was in.  Erik smiled, putting his hands back on JC’s thighs.  He was in, he was one of them, he was set for life.  It felt good, it felt great, and he could only imagine what was in store.

        “Whole thing,” AJ said.  “I got him a new one, top-of-the-line.”

        “He’s-”

        “Whoa, hold it,” AJ said.  “Rein that back in.  I’m dealing with it.”

        “Dealing with it how?” Kevin asked.

        “Dealing with it,” AJ said.  “I can handle him.”

        Kevin sat back, feeling a twinge of amusement.  “You can?”

        “I’m on top of it,” AJ said.

        “Good,” Kevin said, releasing the matter into AJ’s hands.  “I have enough to deal with.  Chris can’t get his act together to save his life.”

        “Brian should give him a break.”

        “The last thing I need is Brian’s interference,” Kevin said.  “One word from him, and Chris will be worthless.”

        “You have to admire it,” AJ said.  “I can do a number on Joey, but all Brian has to do is blink and Chris is destroyed.”

        “Chris is broken,” Kevin said.  “Brian broke him.  Justin’s trained, but he’s not broken, and neither’s Joey, or Lance, or JC.  They still have a sense of independence.  Chris’s entire existence is Brian.  He can’t even think of himself, define himself, in any other terms.”

        “It’s impressive,” AJ said.  “You think you can outdo the master?”

        “I don’t know,” Kevin said.  “He’s set the standard.”

        “A toast,” AJ said.

        “To Brian,” Kevin said, touching his water bottle to AJ’s.  “The master.”

        “To Brian,” AJ said.  “God knows we love him.”

        He’d hoped to avoid face-to-face contact with Brian for as long as possible, but they did have to work together.  “Yeah, come in,” he said.

        “Thanks.”  Brian stepped into his house.  “I talked to Jacob last night.”

        “Yeah?” Lance asked.  “How’d it go?”

        “I kept him up until seven fifteen,” Brian said.

        Lance decided to hit Brian with the truth, to see how Brian would react.  “Chris told us about the bet.”

        “Bet?” Brian repeated, looking faintly puzzled.

        “Two million dollars for who gets fucked up the hardest,” Lance said.  “He told us everything.”

        Puzzlement turned into regret.  “I’m sorry that you had to hear it like that,” Brian said.

        Hell, Brian was going for the Oscar.  “You’re not sorry for any of it,” Lance said.  “Don’t lie to me.  I know what you did to Chris, I know what you’re planning to do to Jacob, and I don’t trust you.”

        “He told you everything?” Brian asked.  He hesitated over his next words.  “Did he tell you who my first choice was?”

        “Yeah, he did,” Lance said.  “What does that mean, that you wanted to do to me what you did to Chris?”

        “No,” Brian said quickly, his voice at once earnest and firm.  “I couldn’t have hurt you like that.  That’s why I wanted it to be you.  It would have been an excuse to be near you.  The other guys never would have understood, but that would have given me a reason to…  But it doesn’t matter now.  Howie was the lucky one.”

        The lucky one?  “Am I supposed to believe this?” Lance asked.  “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

        “I don’t expect you to believe me,” Brian said.  “I understand why you don’t trust me.  But I’ve been hoping…”  He paused, hesitant, rubbing his arm, unsure of his welcome.  “I was hoping that this could be my chance.  Our chance.  To spend time together, to get to know each other.”

        “I’ve never met anyone so full of bullshit,” Lance said.  He couldn’t believe this.  Did Brian really expect him to buy it?

        “Jacob, this whole situation - - I’m going along with it, I have to keep it up for the guys.  They’d never understand.  But we could have something now.  Can’t you even give me a chance?  I already lost you to Howie once.  I know that I hurt Chris, and I’m sorry, Lance, I-”

        “You’re sorry,” Lance repeated.

        “I am truly sorry,” Brian said.  “I never should have…  It was a hard time, and watching you with Howie like that, knowing he didn’t mean any of it, knowing he didn’t even care about you, watching you fall deeper and deeper in love with him when I was the one who…”  Brian stopped, catching himself, stemming the flow of words.  More quietly, with regret in his eyes, he said, “But I am sorry.”

        “Good,” Lance said.  “You should tell Chris that.  You should apologize to his face.  I’ll call him over and you can do it now.”

        “I would be happy to apologize to Chris,” Brian said.  “He deserves it.  I was horrible to him.”

        Lance couldn’t believe any of it.  It was too insane.  Too convenient.  Brian was saying all of the right things.  How could Brian have hurt Chris that badly, and not meant any of it?  To hurt someone that much, he must have been deriving some sort of pleasure from it.

        “In fact, I’d rather go to him to apologize,” Brian said.  “Is he home?  He shouldn’t have to come the whole way over here when I can go to him.”

        “Fine,” Lance said.  “I’ll call and tell him we’re coming.”

        “Maybe you shouldn’t tell him I’m coming,” Brian said.  “I don’t think he’ll want to see me.”

        “He’ll want to see you for this,” Lance said.  He found his phone and dialed.

        “Kirkpatrick.”  Chris didn’t sound quite right.  His tone was almost listless.

        “Hey, are you going to be home for the next hour?” Lance asked.

        “Yeah,” Chris said.  “Why?”

        “I’m coming over,” Lance said.

        “Okay,” Chris said.  “I’ll be here.”

        “Great.”  Lance hung up and looked at Brian.  He wanted to watch Brian apologize directly to Chris’s face.  He didn’t believe Brian’s too-convenient words, but at least he could do this for Chris.  “Let’s go.”

        “Jacob, a little more this way.”

        Jacob turned slightly.  Dan lifted his chin, giving the camera his profile.

        “What did you want?” Nick asked.

        Arrogant jackass.  “Sorry, who is this?”

        “Nick.  Carter,” Nick said slowly.  “Your.  Boyfriend.”

        “You’re not my boyfriend,” Joey snapped.

        “Check again,” Nick said.  “What did you want this morning?”

        “When can I fuck Ashley?”

        “Invite him over tonight.  Here’s what I need you to do…”

        Someday, he’d resign himself to the fact that he’d never have sex with Brian again.  Maybe in another forty, fifty years.  Until then, there was always hope.  False hope, because he was only lying to himself; Brian didn’t want him anymore.  Brian had never wanted him in the first place.

        But there was always that possibility, that maybe, that what if tickling in the back of his mind.

        At the ring of the doorbell, Chris got up and checked the peephole.  Lance.  “Hi,” he said, opening the front door.  “I…”  His voice died.  His heart stopped beating.  He couldn’t have breathed if he’d wanted to.

        Brian stepped up behind Lance.  “Hi,” he said, his smile faltering just slightly, as though he thought he wasn’t quite welcome.

        Chris stared.  Brian, his…  Eyes and…  So…

        “Let us in,” Lance said, coming in, stepping around him.  Brian came closer, following Lance, and Chris’s throat closed, chest squeezing tight.  His muscles were locked, his entire body seizing up.  Then Brian was past him, and Chris turned immediately, instinctively tracking Brian’s movements.  Lance closed the door for him.  Lance was incidental.  Brian was there.  Here.  In his house.

        “Brian’s here to-”

        “Let me do it,” Brian said, and looked directly into Chris’s eyes.

        Chris couldn’t blink.  Brian.  Brian’s face.  Brian’s voice.  Brian, Brian…

        “Chris,” Brian said.

        His name.  Brian had said his name.  His brain repeated the sound of it in a wild, echoing loop; a lump rose in his throat.  Brian had said his name.

        “I’m sorry,” Brian said.

        His star-filled eyes, brimming with regret.  His lovely voice, gentle, sincere.  Chris felt dizzy.  He’d been on this rollercoaster before.

        “I know that I hurt you, and I was wrong.  I never should have done any of it.  I’m sorry,” Brian said again.

        None of it was true, the words were meaningless, but Chris clung to the sound of Brian’s voice, clung to the sight of Brian in his house.  It didn’t matter what Brian said, because none of it ever meant anything.  Sometimes he could fool himself into trusting, but not this time.  Not this apology.  Brian would never apologize to him.

        “You don’t have to believe me, or forgive me,” Brian said.

        None of it ever meant anything, but all of it always hurt.

        “Maybe someday you’ll know how sorry I am.  I hope that someday...”

        Chris blanked out all other sounds, all other sights, and rememorized Brian in a desperate frenzy of mental notes.  Faded checkered shirt, hair curling over his ears, pronounced cheekbones, concerned and penitent expression.

        No one was this beautiful, but Brian.

        “-is.  Chris.  Chris.”

        He’d forgotten that Lance was in the room.  He wished that Lance weren’t there at all.  He couldn’t look away from Brian to acknowledge Lance, anyway.

        “Is there anything you want to say?” Lance prodded.

        Chris remembered his tongue.  Found his voice.  “Yes.”

        Brian’s expression shifted from concerned penitence to concerned interest.  “What is it?”

        “I love you,” Chris said.

        “Chris,” Lance said, disappointed.

        “I’m sorry,” Brian said, glancing back at Lance.  “I don’t know what to say.  You should hate me after everything I’ve done.  I know I hate myself for it.”

        Chris got it.  Brian was putting on a show for Lance.  The sincere apology had been for Lance’s benefit.  Brian wanted Lance to think that he was sorry, so Lance would, what, forgive?  Trust?  He should’ve figured that out from Brian’s first sentence.

        His first instinct was to help Brian.  But that would mean hurting Lance.  It didn’t matter, anyway.  There was nothing he could do to make Lance believe Brian.  Not that Brian needed his help.  But if he could help Brian, in any way, maybe Brian would be grateful.  Not grateful, but maybe touched?  Lenient?  Indulgent?  Helping Brian would betray Lance, and telling Lance that Brian was lying would anger Brian, so he’d say nothing, he’d just keep his mouth shut and cling to Brian’s presence.

        “Maybe I should go,” Brian said.

        “No,” Chris said.

        “I’m sorry,” Brian said.

        “No,” Chris said.  Brian couldn’t leave him.

        “I’ll stay,” Lance said.  “Chris can take me home later.”

        “Okay,” Brian said.  “I’ll call you about Jacob.”

        “No,” Chris said desperately, reaching out as Brian passed him.  Lance grabbed his arm, keeping him back.  “No!” Chris shouted.  Brian left; the door closed.  “No!” Chris screamed.  He jerked free from Lance, running after Brian, wrenching the door open and bursting out of the house.  Brian was in the driveway; Chris hurried towards him, wanting one more word, one more look, one - - oh - - whoa - - shit - - ouch!  Chris sprawled forward onto the pavement, skinning his hand.  For one long, burning second, he stared up at Brian, knowing that Brian would get in the car, drive away, and leave him there.  “No...”

        But Brian came forward, reaching down to help him up.

        Slender fingers.  Knuckles.  Fingernails.  Chris’s heart was racing.  He was afraid to take Brian’s hand.  Afraid to accept Brian’s help.  But he hadn’t touched Brian in so, so long, he had to try.  He grasped Brian’s hand, and it was cool and firm, and Brian lifted him, and his mind was blown.  He was halfway up, reeling, sure he was dreaming, when Brian whispered, “Come over later.”

        Chris’s head snapped up; he searched Brian’s eyes, but Brian wouldn’t meet his gaze.  Had Brian said that?  To him?  He was hallucinating.  He was so obsessed with Brian, he was hallucinating.  He needed help, he was unstable, he was losing his mind all over again.

        Brian dusted him off.  “Are you all right?” he asked, loudly enough to be heard clearly, and Chris remembered again that Lance was back there.  Brian’s hands briskly brushed his chest, and Chris went weak in the knees, his entire body aching.  “Does your knee hurt?”  Chris just gazed, unable to comprehend.  Brian was standing this close to him, speaking to him, and touching him.  Voluntarily.  In front of a witness.

        “Are you okay?” Lance asked.

        “Brian,” Chris said, clutching Brian’s hand.

        “That must hurt,” Brian said, returning his hand to him.  “I should go.  I hope you’ll be all right.  It was good to see you again.  Lance, we’ll talk later.”  Brian stepped out of his reach, getting into a car, driving away from him.

        “Brian?” Chris asked.

        “Are you okay?” Lance asked.  “Damn.  Come on.  Where’s your first aid kit?”

        “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

        AJ turned to face Justin.  “Don’t give me the shocked routine.  You know I have a key.”

        “Who gave you the right to use it?” Justin demanded.

        “I gave myself the fucking right,” AJ snapped.

        “It’s my house, it’s my right,” Justin shot back.

        “You don’t have any rights!”

        “Give me my keys back,” Justin said, and there was an angry, undeniable tone in his voice that AJ had never heard from him.

        “No,” AJ said.

        “Give me my keys,” Justin repeated, stepping forward.

        “I don’t know what is up your ass, and I don’t give a fuck,” AJ said.  “These are my keys, just like this is my house and you’re my bitch.  When I’m through with you, I’ll give them back to you.”

        “You give them to me now!”

        “I don’t take orders from whining, crying cunts!”

        “I don’t take orders from anybody, and I will never take orders from an asshole like you!” Justin shouted, and grabbed for AJ.  AJ shoved him back, slapping him across the face.

        Justin hit back.  A fast blow, open-handed, followed by a fist in the gut.  “Keep your fucking hands off of me!” Justin yelled.  “I don’t want you grabbing me or shoving me or fucking touching me again!”

        Justin had hit him.  Justin had hit his face.  Oh, no.  Oh, fuck no.  “You filthy bitch!” AJ exploded, and backhanded Justin, hitting him again, again, until Justin was on the floor.  “You fucking piece of shit!”  He kicked Justin hard in the stomach; Justin rolled away to escape, and he slammed his foot into Justin’s back.  “Don’t you ever raise a hand to me!  You keep forgetting I’m in charge, you seem to have trouble learning who runs your life now.  Let me help you out!”  Justin was face-down, pushing up onto his hands to rise; AJ planted his booted foot on Justin’s back, pressing down firmly, forcing Justin to stay put.  “I run your life!  I rule you!  I’m the one you answer to, I’m the one you obey, I’m the one who’s in charge of every fucking thing in your existence!”

        Justin moved fast, rolling away and into a crouch.  He was on his feet in seconds, moving like he was hurt but not willing to give in to it.  “Get the fuck out of my house!”

        AJ couldn’t fucking believe it.  Timberlake wouldn’t stay down!  What the hell was happening?  Justin must have gotten some idea into his head about standing up for himself.

        AJ knew how to take care of that, but he didn’t want to play the Kevin card.  He should be able to handle Justin by himself.  This was supposed to be a walk in the park.

        He was losing control of Justin.  He didn’t like that.

        Justin was resisting him because he wasn’t Kevin.  He was coming too close to taking Kevin’s place, but he’d never be Kevin, and Justin knew it.  Hell, he didn’t want to be Kevin.  Justin didn’t want him to be Kevin.

        So, he’d be someone else.  It wasn’t too late to switch tactics.

        He stood his ground, not moving closer but also not stepping back, and crossed his arms over his chest.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

        Justin glared at him.  “You’re what’s wrong with me.”

        “Tell me what you want.”

        “I want never to have to see you again,” Justin snapped.

        AJ uncrossed his arms.  “What about Dan?”

        “I can do it without you.”

        “I’m not giving it up, I’m doing it with or without you,” AJ said.  “If we work separately, we’ll screw each other over and lose the whole deal.  Either you step back, or we work together.”

        “I’m not stepping back,” Justin said.  “Fuck you, I haven’t gone through all of this for nothing.”

        “Then we work together,” AJ said.

        “I’m not working with you,” Justin said.

        “We used to get along,” AJ said.

        “Get along?” Justin repeated, incredulous.  “When did we ever get along?!”

        “In the club,” AJ said.  “When we danced.”

        “We’re not dancing now!”

        AJ relaxed his body, deliberately letting his gaze drift behind Justin to the stereo.  “We could be.”

        Justin frowned, glancing behind himself.  “I’m not dancing with you, you were fucking breaking my ribs.”

        “You’ve never danced hurt?” AJ asked.

        “Yeah, onstage, in rehearsal,” Justin said.  “Not in my own living room with a fucking psychopath.”

        “So it’ll be a new experience,” AJ said.  “Come on, give me some bass.”

        “I’m not - - get out!”

        “We have to work together,” AJ said.  “If we’re going to bring down Dan, it has to be together, so we have to learn some way to get along.  I don’t want to be here any more than you do.  You hate me, I hate you, we’re all on the same page there.  But as much as I hate you, I hate Dan more.  What about you?”

        Justin looked away, his body tense.

        AJ had him.

        Justin looked at him, angry, resistant.  “You hit me again, you’re dead.”

        AJ shrugged.  “I’ll rein it in.”

        “And I want my keys back.”

        “I’m going to need them,” AJ said.

        “Then I get a key to your place,” Justin said.

        AJ smiled.  “Hardball.  I like that.”  He took Justin’s keys from his pocket, walking slowly towards Justin, slinky step after slinky step.  “I’ll give them back to you if you dance with me.”

        “I’m not dancing with you,” Justin said.

        “You can choose the music.”

        Justin stepped back.  “I’m not dancing with you.”

        “Dan’s going to be here, and I’m not leaving until after he’s gone,” AJ said.  “In fact, I’m probably spending the night.  We can either argue, fuck, or dance.”

        “Or you can get out,” Justin said.  “Or you can go sit in the corner and leave me alone.”

        AJ swiveled his hips, holding out the keys in invitation.  “Come on, Justy baby, dance with me.”  Justin reached for the keys; AJ pulled them out of reach.  “Come on, a little dance.  We’ll start over.”

        “Start over,” Justin repeated.  “I don’t believe this.”

        AJ dangled the keys.

        Justin stepped forward.

        AJ stepped left.

        Justin stepped right.

        AJ stepped right.

        Justin stepped left.

        AJ put the keys within reach; Justin snatched for them; AJ grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled him close.

        Justin pocketed the keys, giving him a glare of distrust.  “One dance.”

        AJ grinned.

        Justin turned away, moving to the stereo.  “And you should know I gathered up all of your shit and threw it away.”

        AJ kept grinning.  The bitch was dead.

        “I’d better stay,” Lance said, taping the bandage over his knee.  “I have this feeling that if I leave, you’re going to do something stupid.”

        “Trevor’s coming back,” Chris said.  It was his first coherent sentence since Lance had gotten him back into the house.

        “I’ll stay until then,” Lance said.

        “He’s going to want to know why I stopped answering my phone.”

        “You were out with me,” Lance said.

        “My cell phone?” Chris asked.

        “You turned it off,” Lance said.

        “During his crisis?” Chris asked.

        “You accidentally left it at my house,” Lance said.

        “Okay,” Chris said.

        “You’re not very good at this,” Lance said.

        “Brian was here,” Chris said.

        Lance, still crouching in front of Chris, looked up and studied Chris’s eyes.  “You’re really screwed up over him.”

        “Yeah,” Chris said.  “You noticed?”

        “I’m sorry,” Lance said.  “I hate this.  I hate not being able to fix it for you.  What can I do?”

        “Nothing,” Chris said.

        “If we could get revenge,” Lance said.  “Hurt them back.”

        Chris laughed.  “Maybe we’re talking about different people.”

        They weren’t special, they weren’t superior, they were just arrogant.  They had to have weak spots, they could be taken down - - but now wasn’t the time.  He’d work on a plan for that later.  Lance sighed, putting his hand on Chris’s good knee.  “There has to be something I can do for you.”

        “I…  I need some time alone,” Chris said.  “Trevor’s going to be here, and…   I need to be by myself.  I have to get my brain back under control, you know I lose all higher functions when Brian’s around.  And this time he touched me, god, I can’t think about it without shaking.  I just need to be by myself.”

        “Are you sure?” Lance asked.  “I can hang out quietly.”

        “No, I…  I need space.”

        “I don’t want to leave you alone,” Lance said.  “Are you sure you aren’t going to do anything stupid?”

        Chris laughed.  “No more than usual.”

        “Okay,” Lance said.  He wasn’t happy with it, but Chris was old enough to take care of himself.  “Do you want to take me home, or-”

        “You can take one of my cars.  Thanks,” Chris said.  “You’re a good man, Lance Bass.”

        “So are you, Chris.”  Lance squeezed his good knee and got up.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom

        “That rules out my whole repertoire!” Chris called after him.

        “Oh, yeah,” Erik said.  Howie could tell he’d been planning to run straight to the other guys with the news.  “Just between us.”

        “Good,” Howie said, and kissed him again, then kissed JC.  “Ready to get back out there?” he asked Erik.

        “I don’t know,” Erik said with a grin.  “Anything else that happens after this is going to be a major letdown.”

        JC kissed Erik.  “Bye, honey.”

        “Major letdown,” Erik said again.

        Howie gave him an understanding, conspiratorial smile, then opened the front door.  The three of them walked outside, going to their respective cars.  Howie was leaving at the same time as the two of them, so JC couldn’t stay behind to talk to him.  He had no interest in talking to JC at the moment, because JC would just start complaining about last night.  He had better ways to spend his time.

        Erik honked his horn and drove off.

        JC got out of his car and approached Howie’s car.

        Howie backed up with a smile and a wave.  JC took a few steps towards him; he backed out of the drive and sped off with a honk of his own, leaving JC alone there in front of his house.

        His hair!  How did his hair look?  Was there food in his teeth?  What about his breath?  What if he had a new zit or something?  Chris patted his hair in near-panic, running his tongue over his teeth, wishing he’d put on his blue shirt.  Or that tan outfit.  Or black.  Brian liked him in black.  He was so fucking stupid!  He’d gone over this a million times.  He’d planned out three hundred eighty-five perfect outfits in his head, what he’d wear when he saw Brian.  He had a ton of clothes, and everything in his closet was better than what he had on at the moment, but he’d just had to jump up and drive right over without even checking for food in his teeth.

        Chris looked at his watch nervously.  He was going to have a coronary right there by Brian’s front door if Brian didn’t open the door, because…

        Because…

        Chris hesitated.

        Brian knew he was coming over.  Brian had invited him over.  Right?

        He didn’t want to ring the bell again, because that might irritate Brian, and that was the last thing he wanted.  But maybe Brian hadn’t heard it the first time.

        He pushed the button again.

        Maybe when Brian had said, “Come over later,” he’d meant later-later.  He was probably just early.

        Yeah.  He was early.  Brian had meant later, like, later that night.  Brian had said “Come over later,” not “Come over immediately.”  He was early.

        Just a little early, that was all.

        He’d wait.

        As soon as they got home from the shoot, he drove straight over to Justin’s house.  He didn’t know AJ’s cars from Justin’s, so he didn’t know whether AJ was there or not, but it didn’t matter.  He was there to help Justin, and he wasn’t afraid of AJ.  Being punched in the face hurt, and it had been bad for the photo shoot, but it wasn’t going to make him back down.  The only real difference it made was that now he knew to be prepared for it.

        Dan rang the bell.  He couldn’t believe Justin’s friends weren’t doing anything.  They had to know.  Why weren’t they getting Justin out of this situation?

        Maybe they were trying to help Justin, but Justin was refusing to leave AJ.  Dan didn’t have a lot of personal experience with abusive relationships, but he’d watched enough “a very special episode” sitcoms and made-for-TV movies to know that a lot of times, the people being abused in the relationships had trouble walking away.  Maybe Justin was in denial.

        He rang the doorbell again.

        The door opened.  “You’re kidding me.  This is a fucking joke.  I don’t fucking believe this.”

        Dan took a deliberate, steadying breath to subdue his temper.  AJ was half-naked, his jeans unbuttoned, a sheen of sweat on his bare chest.  Dance music was clearly audible.  Maybe this was AJ’s way of keeping Justin, by re-establishing their physical connection.  But that couldn’t work forever.  Dan was going to make sure of it.  “Is Justin here?”

        “Look.  White bread.  You don’t pop up and make demands in my face.  I let you in the first time because I’m a nice guy, I’m trusting, and I didn’t know you were going to start shoving your opinion in where it doesn’t belong.  Justin doesn’t need your interference.  I don’t appreciate your interference.  You don’t call him, you don’t come to his house, you don’t speak to him.  Now take your ass home and get out of our business.”

        Dan stepped in, blocking the door, holding it open as AJ tried to close it.  “I want to see Justin.”

        “Oh, this is too fucking precious,” AJ said.  “Get your ass back and out of this doorway before I get mad.”

        Dan wasn’t close to intimidated.  “Let me see Justin before I get mad.”

        “Do you really think that I’m going to give in to a nobody worthless wannabe goody-pants like you?” AJ asked.  “I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you.  Get your ass off of this property.  Or do you want a bruise on the other side of your face to match the first one?”

        “How many bruises have you left on Justin?” Dan demanded.

        “That’s it,” AJ said, and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him into the doorjamb.  “The only reason,” AJ snarled, inches from his face, “that I’m trying to be nice to you is that I love Justin, and he thinks you’re a nice guy.  I couldn’t give a fuck about you, and I couldn’t give a fuck about what you think of me.  So why don’t you fuck off, white bread?”

        “I’m not going to let you hurt him,” Dan said.

        “I’m not going to let you fuck up my good thing,” AJ growled.  “So get the fuck-” he was shoved out of the doorway “-out!”  The door slammed in his face.

        “Justin!” Dan shouted, grabbing the doorknob, pounding his fist on the door.

        There was no answer.

        “Erik!”  Ashley got up from the sofa, coming forward.

        “Where the hell have you been?!” Jacob demanded.

        Erik was startled.  “Whoa, what’s the-”

        “We tried your cell phone, JC’s cell phone, JC’s house,” Ashley said.

        “You missed the shoot!” Jacob shouted.  “You missed the fucking shoot!  We tried to reschedule it, but he was booked, we had a contract - - what the hell are we supposed to do with publicity shots without you in them?  We can’t fucking use that!  Do you know how much money we wasted?  How much of everyone’s time you’ve wasted?”

        “The shoot was today?” Erik asked.  “I thought it was Saturday!”

        “Today is Saturday!” Jacob shouted.

        Oh, shit.  Erik couldn’t believe it.  “I missed the shoot?”

        “Yeah, you missed the fucking shoot!”

        “Where were you?” Ashley asked.  Erik could tell that he was trying to stay calm to counteract Jacob, but that just made Erik feel even more like shit.  He didn’t want Ashley to be nice to him, to soften the blow; he deserved to be yelled at.  He’d missed the whole fucking shoot.

        He couldn’t even answer Ashley’s question.  He’d been at Howie’s house, learning how to give head.  He couldn’t tell them that.  Howie didn’t want him to say anything to anyone about what was really going on.  Besides, damn, he’d had a fucking dick in his mouth, he couldn’t just burst out with that information.

        Especially since he kind of wanted to do it again, and that was sort of freaking him out.

        “How’d it go?” he asked.  He knew that he sounded weak, but he wasn’t exactly coming from a position of strength.

        “It was pretty bad,” Ashley said.  “We were late, AJ punched Dan in the face so he has this bruise, Jacob didn’t get any sleep, the whole thing was a nightmare.”

        “AJ what?” Erik asked.  “AJ punched Dan in the face?”

        “Where were you?” Jacob asked.  “Where the hell have you been?”

        “I was at Howie’s place,” Erik said.  “I fell asleep.  I forgot all about it.  I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

        “How long has this been on our schedule?” Jacob demanded.  “How long have we been talking about this?”

        “I thought it was tomorrow!” Erik said.  “I’m sorry!”

        “These were supposed to be publicity shots!  They were talking about using one for the cover of the remix.  We can’t put out a single that only has four of us on the cover!  People are going to think you’ve left the band!” Jacob shouted.

        “I’m not-”

        “Or maybe that’s what you want,” Jacob said, his voice lowered from a shout but brutally intense.  “Maybe you have better things to do.”

        “It’s not like that!”  He couldn’t believe Jacob was taking it there.  “I’ve never said that!  I don’t have better things to do, there is nothing better than this!  I’m sorry I missed the shoot, I thought it was tomorrow, I didn’t blow you off on purpose!”

        “Whatever,” Jacob said, already walking away.

        “Jacob,” Erik said.  “Jacob!”  Damn it!  He turned to Ashley.  “I said I’m sorry!”

        “I know,” Ashley said.

        “Can’t we get another shoot?”

        “Not unless they give us the money for it,” Ashley said.

        Jesus.  Erik couldn’t believe his day was going like this.  “Where are Dan and Trevor?”

        “Dan went to see Justin, and Trevor went to see Chris.”

        “What is this about AJ hitting him?”

        “Long story.  Come on, I’ll tell you while I get something to eat,” Ashley said, leading the way to the kitchen.

        Chris would understand, he knew it.  Everything he was doing, everything he’d done, the highs, the lows, the questions, the confusion, the uncertainty, the celebrations, the disappointments, Chris had been through all of it.  He loved that he could talk to Chris directly, without having to stop to explain what this term meant or why that was important.  Other people just didn’t get it.  Chris not only understood it on a basic level, Chris was experienced at it all and could get it to make sense for him.

        Chris also was one of those people who was in for every second of it, but saw that there were more important, larger points to life.  Ultimately, life and death didn’t hang in the balance of one photo shoot.  The fame and the money weren’t the sum of existence.  Trevor wasn’t quite at that stage yet; he was still excited by the fame and the money.  But he knew that Chris was right, anyway.

        Chris was also not home.

        Maybe something was wrong.  Chris had stopped answering all of the numbers he’d given Trevor, hours ago.

        He wished he could leave some kind of note, but he didn’t have any paper on him.  Maybe there was something in the car.

        He’d already left a bunch of messages, but he’d try calling again.  It was worth a shot.  He dialed Chris’s cell phone.

        No answer.

        Trevor looked up at the front of Chris’s house, and sighed.  “Call me,” he said, and went back to his car.

        “What happened?” Lance asked, letting him into the house.

        “I know you love Howie, and I don’t want to disrespect that, but I’m going to kill him.”

        The fire in JC’s eyes told Lance that he wasn’t kidding.  “What happened?” Lance asked again.

        “I told him I didn’t want to suck Erik’s dick, I told him I wasn’t going to do it, and he made me.  I had to do it right in front of him!  Then he made me suck his dick in front of Erik!  And in between that, he fucked me.  He fucked me, Lance, right in front of Erik.  I told him I didn’t want it, I asked him not to do it, I swear to god I’ll break his fingers if he ever tries to touch me again.  I am not some dirty whore he can get to perform on command!  I’m better than that!”

        “He fucked you?” Lance asked.  Howie had never fucked him.  Howie had fucked JC?  JC knew Howie in ways he didn’t?

        “In front of Erik!” JC shouted.  “I’m going to kill him.”

        “He forced you?” Lance asked.

        Frustration crossed JC’s face.  “No.  I told him yes.”

        “I thought you told him no,” Lance said.

        “I was saying no, but then - - it’s complicated.  He’s making me do things I don’t want to do, he’s getting me to perform in front of Erik - - he was never like this before!  I liked Howie, I was falling for all of his little tricks, he was sucking me right in.  He had me right where he wanted me.  Now he’s blown it, it’s over, I can’t even look at him.”

        “Why would he do that?” Lance asked.  “Wouldn’t he rather have you where he wants you, instead of driving you away?”

        “I sucked Erik’s dick!  It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!”

        “Howie’s all about subtle control,” Lance said.  “Sweet manipulation.  Nothing obvious, nothing you can prove.  Are you saying he’s being direct about it?”

        “He changed,” JC said.  “He’s different.  He isn’t even pretending to consider me anymore, he isn’t pretending we’re in this together.  It’s like he doesn’t need me under his spell anymore.”

        “You’re expendable?” Lance asked.  “This isn’t like Howie.”

        “Do you really know what Howie’s like?” JC asked.  “I don’t.”

        “I don’t even think I’ve ever met the real Howie,” Lance said.  “Start from the beginning.”

        “It’s for you,” Erik said, handing him the phone.  Erik grinned, and whispered, “It’s Joey.”

        Ashley grabbed the phone from his hand and pushed Erik away for privacy.  “Hello?”

        “Hey, pretty,” Joey said.  “Come over.”

        “Right now?” Ashley asked, turning his back to Erik.

        “Yeah,” Joey said.  “I want to make love to you, pretty.”

        Ashley’s breath caught in his throat.  “What?  Make…”

        “I want to fuck you, Ashley.  Come over here and give it to me.  You can stay all night, I want you here with me, I want you to wake up with you in my bed.”

        “What about Nick?” Ashley asked, almost whispering it.  Joey wanted to make love to him.  He had to take another shower, find something to wear, get his hair right…

        “This is about you and me,” Joey said.  “Don’t worry about him.  He has his nameless fucks on the side.  I have you.”

        “I’ll…  I’ll be there,” Ashley said.

        “Don’t take too long,” Joey said.  “I’m already hard just thinking about it.”

        God, so was he.  “Bye,” Ashley said, and hung up.  “I have to, Joey just, later,” he said to Erik, and sped upstairs.

        “Finally,” AJ said.  “He’s one determined son-of-a-bitch.”

        “Now what?” Justin asked, turning from the window, stretching casually.

        “He might come back, so I need to stay for a while,” AJ said.  “I’m starving.  You got anything edible?”

        “Maybe,” Justin said, and started to leave the room.  “Too bad there’s nothing to drink, since you got rid of all of my booze.”

        “That shit’s bad for you anyway,” AJ said, following him.  “At least I didn’t throw away your clothes.”

        “I didn’t fuck you until you bled!”

        “How was I supposed to know you’re too weak to take a real man?”

        “I’m not weak, you’re a fucking animal!” Justin said, whipping around to face him on the stairs.  “You fuck like a rutting beast!  You have no class!”

        “You want class, hire an expensive call girl to dip your strawberry in chocolate!” AJ said.  “I’ve never had any complaints before.”

        “You probably just couldn’t hear them, since you’re fucking gagging people!”

        “I wouldn’t gag you if you weren’t a whimpering bitch!”

        “Fuck you!” Justin shouted, and stormed down the stairs.

        AJ followed him to the kitchen.  “Want to order take-out?”

        Justin shoved a stack of menus at him.  “Nothing with chopsticks,” he snapped.  “I’d just stab your eyes out.”

        “Fair enough,” AJ said, flipping through the stack.  “How about Italian?”

        He’d just wait a little longer.  No sense in leaving; Brian would show up.

        Brian had said “Come over later,” he knew it.  He’d heard it.  Straight from Brian’s mouth.  He knew he had.

        He’d just keep waiting.  “Later” would roll around eventually.

        It had to.

        It would.

        All he had to do was wait.

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