Sucker
Copyright November 24, 2002-June 25, 2007 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex
Pairings: Backstreet Boys/*NSYNC/O-Town
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and O-Town are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
Continued from part ninety-one
That kiss had rocked him; he kept touching his mouth, licking his lips, remembering that unexpected, perfect moment.
AJ came upstairs, but Justin didn’t even bother to look at him; compared to Kevin, nothing else, no one else, certainly not AJ, mattered.
Kevin finished in Ashley’s room, then returned to the hallway to move on to the last room. Justin followed, until, suddenly, AJ slipped in between him and Kevin, saying, “Keep your ass out here.”
Kevin closed the door in his face.
He’d just been shut out.
Of Dan’s room, he realized; this was Dan’s door, that was Dan’s room, Dan’s room was the only one they hadn’t wired yet.
Kevin and AJ were in Dan’s room. Behind that door, alone. And Dan was in there, Dan’s unconscious body was in there!
No! “No, no, no, no, please, god, please, no, no,” Justin whispered, tugging at the locked handle, scratching at the door. “No, no, no, no!”
Kevin and Dan, Kevin and Dan, it was one of his worst fears, that Kevin would hurt Dan, that Dan would have to suffer even a part, even a portion, of what Justin had endured. The idea of Kevin hurting Dan terrified Justin, who knew how pure Dan was, who knew the terrible, terrible things that Kevin could do.
Justin deserved those things, he could take those things, but Dan, god, please, no, not Dan, “Not Dan, not Dan, please!”
It was his fault, his own fault for not protecting Dan better, for not warning Dan at all. He should’ve told Dan about Kevin; he would’ve lost Dan over it, but at least Dan would’ve known, would’ve been able to defend himself or get away. He should’ve offered himself to Kevin in Dan’s place. This was about the game, and this was about AJ, but what if it was about him, too? What if he’d drawn Kevin’s attention to Dan simply by letting Dan close? What if Dan became Kevin’s new target, just by association with Justin?
Justin tainted everything that he touched, he knew that, he ruined everything that he came in contact with, Kevin had told him so, and now he’d put Dan in danger, put Dan right in Kevin’s path. Whatever happened next, whatever was happening to Dan in there, was his fault. Dan was getting hurt, again, and he was to blame, again.
He should’ve checked on Dan earlier, he should’ve made sure that Dan was still okay. He’d been so consumed with Kevin, he hadn’t thought about anything else, but that wasn’t right, that wasn’t right, Dan was his friend, Dan loved him, Dan took care of him. If Dan knew that he were lying somewhere, unconscious, vulnerable to attack, with AJ prowling the house, Dan would’ve come straight to him, would’ve protected him, defended him. He hadn’t even looked to see if Dan was still breathing, he’d just taken AJ’s word for it and followed Kevin around like-
The door opened. Heart racing, Justin stepped forward, to go in there, but right away AJ pushed him back, forcing him away. Straining to see past AJ, past Kevin, he saw the bed, saw a flash of flesh, a glimpse of an arm, long and lean and pale, and then the door was closed again and Kevin stood right there, in the way.
Dan. Dan was in there.
What had they done to him?
He couldn’t apologize to Nick. He couldn’t do it. Say that he’d been lying? Nick would hold that over him, would taunt him with it, would use it against him. He couldn’t give Nick any more leverage over him; he couldn’t afford to.
Walking over to the tall, wide windows, he looked down at the glittering, flashing lights of the strip. Joey had invited him here. Joey wanted him here.
He had to smooth things over, for Joey’s sake. He had to get Nick to calm down, or Nick would force Joey to choose, and it was still too soon. Still too risky. If Nick pushed Joey too far, Ashley would be out, with no clear way back in.
Maybe if he talked to Joey tonight, if they spent the weekend together, he could figure something out. Joey and Nick had been boyfriends long enough for Joey to know how to pacify Nick when necessary. Surely Joey knew that eventually, Nick would get over it. Maybe he could convince Joey to hold out, to wait. Maybe he wouldn’t have to apologize.
Splaying his hand against the cool, smooth glass, he closed his eyes and imagined life without Nick. No Nick. No complications. He could have Joey, Joey’s love, Joey’s time, Joey’s generosity, Joey’s sexuality, Joey’s friendship, without the constant, ever-present fear of having it snatched away at any moment by-
Slam! “What the fuck are you doing here?!”
Whirling around, Ashley backed up against the window. Immediately not feeling safe enough there, he edged to the side until he met the wall, while Nick glared at him with white-hot fury. “I’m waiting for Joey,” he said, remembering too late that this was Nick’s suite, Nick’s hotel, Nick’s weekend.
“Are you fucking stalking him?!” Nick demanded, knocking aside a chair and overturning a table on his way across the room. Ashley winced at each crash; the furniture was unharmed, but Nick’s careless violence was intimidating. “Are you fucking stalking me?! How the hell did you get here?! Why the fuck are you in my goddamned motherfucking room?!”
By the time Nick reached him, Ashley realized that Joey was right. If he didn’t pacify Nick, if he didn’t do everything that he could to smooth things over, Nick would force the issue. Joey would have to choose. And Nick would never allow Joey to choose anyone else. Swallowing, he said, “Joey invited me.”
“Joey what?” Nick asked, and his voice was dangerous, warning, threatening.
“Joey asked me here so that I could talk to you,” Ashley said quickly, thinking fast. He had to say the right things, he had to calm Nick down, he had to sacrifice his own pride so that Joey wouldn’t have to sacrifice him. Nick, like Joey, liked to be touched, so Ashley put his hands on Nick’s chest, to keep Nick from getting closer and from walking away. “I want to apologize to you, I want to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry for what?” Nick demanded, stepping closer, glaring furiously, daring him to say the wrong thing. They were almost forehead to forehead, Ashley’s shoulders against the wall, and Nick was terrifying this close, intimidating, enraged, powerful. “You’re sorry for fucking my boyfriend like a shameless whore? You’re sorry for lying about Brian? You’re sorry for trying to tear apart my life?”
“I’m sorry,” Ashley said, “I’m sorry for what I said about Brian.” He couldn’t rid himself of the memory of the hatred in Brian’s eyes, the poison in Brian’s tone. “He never touched me, he never did anything, I’m sorry.”
Gripping his shirt in both hands, Nick yanked him forward only to shove him back, slamming him against the wall before letting go. “You don’t get-” the lamp to Ashley’s right hit the floor “-to be sorry! You lied about Brian! You told everyone you could goddamned track down that he fucking molested you! You fucked with his reputation, our reputation, to get to Joey!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, but that wasn’t good enough, and he saw it in Nick’s disgusted sneer. “I love Joey, you know how much I love him, and I didn’t know what else to do. I just want to be with him, I just want-”
“You can’t have him,” Nick snapped. “You wouldn’t know what the hell to do with him if you got him. You can’t handle him, you can’t give him what he needs, you can’t be the kind of boyfriend he wants. You’re weak, you’re immature, and you’re needy as hell. Even if Brian had fucking groped you, you would’ve loved it. Don’t pretend that you don’t give your ass to every dick that passes by.”
Loved it? He hadn’t - - closing his eyes, Ashley tried to rein it in, tried to bring himself back down. He couldn’t afford to get into another fight. He had to make this work. He had to play along and let Nick yell at him, he had to take it and keep apologizing until Nick relented. “I’ve only ever been with you and Joey,” he said quietly, opening his eyes but keeping his gaze lowered to one side, avoiding Nick. “There’s never been anyone else.”
“Joey doesn’t want a trembling virgin,” Nick said, right up close, deliberately intimidating him. “Joey wants a man. You’re practically a fucking eunuch. The only reason you chase after dick and balls so much is that you know how fucking worthless yours are.”
“I love him,” Ashley whispered, closing his eyes to shut Nick out. “I need him so much it scares me.”
“And why do you keep giving it up to me?” Nick asked, cupping his jaw, squeezing, fingers digging in. “Why do you keep giving it to me, Angel? Because you love Joey? Because you’re willing to give me anything you have just to keep Joey in your life? Because you’re a pathetic, desperate, scared little whore?”
He couldn’t answer, he couldn’t admit it, he couldn’t just make that terrible confession out loud, not now, not like this. He didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to open his mouth, he didn’t want to face the truth.
The truth was: yes.
The truth was: no.
A soft hiss. “That’s what I thought.” Releasing him, stepping back, Nick said, “Take your clothes off and get on the bed. Beg me real nice and I just might tell Joey that I’m feeling generous.”
It was hilarious, in its own pathetic way.
Smart enough for once to keep his mouth shut, Justin gazed at the door as though waiting for Dan to waken and emerge and fill his world with life - - until Kevin moved to leave and AJ snapped his fingers, at which point he hurried to Kevin’s side without a word, following Kevin downstairs.
Justin’s crush on Dan and dependence on Dan were as strong as had been expected, but he still put Kevin first without contest, which was only correct. None of that was surprising or, at this point, even interesting.
What was telling, however, was that he hadn’t reacted to AJ’s arrival upstairs. AJ’s presence had become so familiar to him that he was no longer put on edge by AJ’s comings and goings.
AJ’s techniques were always deceptively simple yet very effective. He’d appealed to Joey’s hormonal, sensual, hedonistic nature; he was appealing to Justin’s need for stability. Brian liked to complicate things; AJ preferred straightforward tactics. While Kevin had to give Brian a lot of points on style, AJ delivered solid results, every time.
“Are you sure you got everything?” Lance asked, as they all moved toward the front door.
“Yeah,” AJ said.
“If we have to come back in here-”
“We won’t,” Kevin said. He’d taken care of the upstairs, and he trusted that AJ had double-checked all of Lance’s work downstairs.
“It won’t be easy to get everyone out of the house again,” Lance said.
“Shut up,” Justin whispered, his tone worried and distracted. He was thinking about Dan as obviously as if he’d been chewing his lips and glancing upstairs.
“Worried for your boy?” AJ asked, draping an arm around Justin’s back.
“He’s okay, isn’t he?” Justin asked, and now he did glance overhead, then toward the stairs, wanting to go back up.
“If Chris gave him the right dose, he’ll be fine,” AJ said. “Kevin gave him the pills, and you know Kevin knows what he’s doing there.”
Justin’s gaze went unseeing, and his skin paled. Yes. He knew.
Wanting to smile, unwilling to smile in front of Lance, Kevin shifted his grip on the bag in his hand, demonstrating impatience.
“You drugged him?” It was a shocked whisper, then, louder, “You drugged him? You motherfucking-”
It was fast, what happened next, Lance shouting, hurling a bag aside and coming for him. Kevin wanted to backhand him across the face, but Howie wouldn’t like that; feeling Lance grab his shirt, he shoved Lance back, but Lance kept coming, and then AJ was between them, pushing Lance off, and Justin was moving in from behind, clapping a hand over Lance’s mouth, an arm around his chest.
“Don’t, don’t, it’s okay, I’m okay, don’t, don’t, please,” Justin was whispering, trying to get Lance to back off, trying to get Lance to calm down. It was, whether Justin knew it consciously or not, a good hold; firm and secure, it provided enough physical contact to prove that yes, Justin was safe and whole, undamaged by the effects of any drugs.
Lance was struggling to get free, Justin was dragging Lance back, and then AJ held up a hand for quiet, looking fiercely overhead.
For a second, there was utter silence, not even the sound of breath, as they all waited for a noise from upstairs.
Then, Lance broke loose and pivoted, glaring at Justin. “Did he drug you?” At least he’d learned to whisper.
Justin licked his lips and glanced in Kevin’s direction without making eye contact. He met Lance’s eyes hesitantly. “Howie didn’t…”
“No!” Lance whispered furiously. “No, Howie never fucking drugged me! What the-”
“We’re out of here,” AJ whispered firmly. “You can bitch in the car.”
Immediately obeying, Justin headed for the door, but slowly, and he whispered to Lance, “Are you sure?”
Kevin saw it, then, in Lance’s eyes: uncertainty. A pause, a question. Suddenly, Lance wasn’t sure at all.
It had been an honest question on Justin’s part, not intended to manipulate, but it had opened a new avenue for Lance’s paranoia to roam.
Lance didn’t know whether Howie had drugged him or not? That only proved to Kevin that Lance didn’t know Howie at all.
As he stepped into the elevator, he tried to keep them out of his head, tried not to think about their interest in his sex life, or the way they’d drifted around the room watching him, hovering, observing, curious, smiling. They were so damned interested, he was surprised they weren’t following him up in the elevator. What was that about, anyway? They weren’t going to have sex with him anymore, so why did it matter who he fucked or how?
But if they wanted to know, fine, hell, whatever. He’d show them.
He let Lisa into his room, and she wandered around, leaning against the table, perching on the arm of the sofa, basically pausing to strike a sexy pose every few feet, always moving just out of reach every time he got too close. She was making small talk, asking about the group and the show. He was trying to locate the camera without being obvious about it; there was a lamp on the table, and a couple of shirts, which made him look messy. He knew that he hadn’t put them there himself, which meant that Howie had, so was the camera under there?
“I never fucked a pop star before.”
Forget the camera; she had all of his attention now. Okay, so she was definitely ready for sex; no mixed signals there. She walked closer, and he put his hands on her waist, drawing her in. She had very nice curves, feminine curves, and he stroked the flare of her hips.
Smiling, nestling closer, her breasts pressed right to his chest, she asked, “You’re the lead singer?”
No, not at all, but he saw no reason to tell her that. “Yeah.” She wasn’t hard against him, wasn’t going to get hard against him; she was soft, and giving, and he knew that she’d yield to him, wet and welcoming. He wasn’t going to have to lube her up first or anything.
Interest sparkled in her eyes. “Good for you.” She kissed him, lightly, then gave his arm a squeeze and backed up. “Let me freshen up.”
“Sure.” He watched her go; when the bathroom door closed, he crouched down in front of the table. Bingo. A camera, already on, aimed right at the bed. It was really small, and tucked under the pile of shirts, with just enough of a window to get an unobstructed shot.
He pushed record and got up, backing over towards the bed. He didn’t look at the camera, but he felt its presence, felt like he was being watched as he took off his shoes and peeled down his socks.
The bathroom door opened, and Lisa stepped out, giving him a smile. “Maybe you’ll write a song about me, someday.”
“I’m sure I will,” he said.
Walking over to stand before him by the bed, she put her hands to her shoulders. “Let me give you a little…inspiration,” she offered, and with a few flicks, her dress fell to the floor.
Wow. “So that’s how you get out of that thing,” he said, reaching for her. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.”
AJ saw the longing in his eyes. The soft plea, the silent yearning. Justin looked at that house like it held all of the keys to a happiness he could never attain.
“You think your white knight’s in there dreaming about you?” AJ asked.
“No,” Justin said. “Dan thinks about me when he’s awake, and that’s enough.”
He didn’t waste any time getting in - - no kissing, no petting, no words on his part - - but once he was there, he worked that ass for a while. Ashley wept and whimpered, begging for more in a soft, quavering voice. He didn’t bother to make it good the first time around, since he was just doing it to prove a point, and Ashley didn’t need to enjoy it.
The second time, though, he felt nicer, so he threw a few tricks in, taking it slower, touching all of those little spots that made Ashley writhe. Fucking someone who was crying and damaged but still unable to resist him reminded him of JC, which turned him on, so he started getting into it, getting Ashley off a couple of times before the heat got too intense and he came.
Shivering, whimpering, Ashley rolled away from him, wiping up tears.
Rolling his eyes, Nick got up. “You can hang out with Joey tomorrow.”
With a shocked look, suddenly having the balls to look indignant, Ashley said, “You just - - I gave you - - you said-”
“He’s my. Fucking. Boyfriend,” Nick said sharply, pulling his jeans up. “We came out here to be together. You can spend time with him tomorrow, because I’m feeling generous, but don’t push your luck. Now get the fuck out of my room.”
Looking scared and pissed at the same time, Ashley started to get dressed. “Are you, are you going to tell Joey?” he asked, sounding worried about it. “About us, about this?”
“Am I going to tell him that I fucked you?” Nick asked. “No. What happens between you and me is between you and me, unless I decide otherwise. I don’t need to hear about every time you lick his dick, and he doesn’t need to hear about how many times I’ve been up your ass.”
Without even having the sense to look grateful, Ashley backed towards the door, still fixing his clothes. “Are you going to tell him that you forgive me?”
“I’m going to tell him the truth,” Nick said, opening the door and pushing Ashley into the hallway. “You’re so fucking insignificant it doesn’t matter to me what you do or what you say. You can’t hurt me, Angel, and you can’t touch Brian. Just do what you do best. Roll over and take it.” He slammed the door.
Kevin wasn’t answering; Kevin wasn’t talking, only driving. He didn’t even look angry; he didn’t seem to hear Lance at all.
Justin wanted Lance to shut up, before Kevin got pissed off. “I’m fine. I never overdosed, I didn’t have to go to the hospital, I’m fine. It just,” he felt himself twitching and rubbed at his wrist, “it fucked with my head, and it made me…easier to…deal with.” Easier to move, easier to, easier, god, he didn’t want to go there again. “It didn’t hurt me.” That was true, and it wasn’t true, but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Just, it’s in the past, it’s over.”
“What if he does it again?” Lance demanded. “To you, to Chris, what if-”
“We just did it to Dan, and you’re fine with that, so you can’t have that big of a problem with it,” he muttered, scrubbing his hand over his hair and trying to breathe evenly. He didn’t want to fucking talk about it. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to picture Dan up there on that bed, unconscious, so vulnerable, so easy to hurt. What had they done in his room, what had they done to him?
He knew that Kevin could calculate dosages, he knew that Kevin could do it right, but Dan was alone, and Justin didn’t know when anyone else would return to the house, and what if something happened? What if there was a fire, what if something went wrong, oh god, what if Dan-
“Shit,” AJ said, at the same time that Lance said, “Justin,” and then AJ was climbing into the backseat, climbing right onto him and kneeling astride him, hands cupping his cheeks as he was kissed, surrounding him in AJ, bringing his world back to this one moment, this was one person. He let AJ kiss him, his own hands bracing themselves on AJ’s body as AJ’s thumbs caressed his cheeks, as AJ’s goatee rubbed across his skin.
He couldn’t change what had happened to him, he couldn’t stop Kevin, but, “Dan,” he whispered, opening his eyes and gazing into AJ, needing AJ to help him.
“Justin.” AJ kissed him, then drummed steady fingers against his cheek. “I can’t make Daniel safe for you. I’m here to hurt him, I’m here to fuck him up. But you know that tomorrow he’ll wake up with nothing more than maybe a headache, maybe a dry mouth. Kevin knows what he’s doing, Chris knows how to follow instructions, our boy’s going to be just fine.”
He wanted to believe that. Dan had looked okay, had just looked asleep. But what had Kevin and AJ done in there? What had they done?!
“I know you’re worried about him,” AJ said. “But you have to trust me. I’m in this to fuck Dan up, but I’m not trying to leave dead bodies in my wake. I’m not going to break Dan’s bones, or tamper with his brakes, or, shit,” one arm reached back and tapped at Kevin, “what’s the-”
“Disembowel,” Kevin said.
“Or disembowel him,” AJ said, hand returning to Justin, where it felt like it belonged. “We’re in this for psychological damage, not physical.”
He’d wanted to believe that, but, “JC.”
“JC’s fine and up and walking around,” AJ said.
“What about JC?” Lance asked sharply.
“This game is about strategy,” AJ said, ignoring Lance, still focused on him, directly on him. “It’s about planning and manipulation and always being ahead. It’s about taking calculated risks. You know that.”
Calculated risks. He was looking right into AJ’s eyes, and he wondered. What Nick had done to JC, Nick had also done to AJ. AJ had taken that risk. Had let Nick throw him overboard. Had let Nick drown him. Had fought back and…succumbed.
Justin swallowed.
AJ had knowingly, deliberately, faced death. AJ had done it because he’d known that he’d win. Who could confidently, deliberately cheat death?
The word “calculated” was supposed to diminish the word “risk,” but it didn’t. Not this time.
“We can’t do that,” Justin whispered. Those words were the only ones that would come out; the ones expressing his sudden, quiet fear of AJ were stuck in his throat. “We can’t do that to Dan, we can’t do that to any of them. It’s too far, it’s-”
“What happened to JC?” Lance demanded.
“Why don’t the four of you tell each other anything?” AJ asked, looking from Justin to Lance. “Is it the shame? You haven’t learned to get over that?”
“I respect Lance’s privacy,” Justin said quickly, hoping to prevent AJ from disclosing information. Every time he learned more about what his friends had been through, he wished he didn’t know. It didn’t help, to know. It explained more about their reactions to things, but it made him hurt for them, and it made him ache for their shame and guilt and misery. Nick had tried to kill JC, easily could have done it, probably had in the technical sense, but JC was still in love, still wanted to be with Nick, still tried to make himself attractive to the man who’d murdered him and burned down his house. Justin didn’t want to know that.
“I respect everything about Kevin,” AJ said firmly. “There’s nothing that he does that I don’t know about, and there’s nothing that I do that I keep from him. And I never have trouble meeting his eyes. The five of you need to cut out all of this pussying around and hiding from each other, and sit down and clear it all out.”
No. There was no way. Justin couldn’t tell anyone.
“Do you understand that we don’t want to take advice from you?” Lance asked. “You’ve never demonstrated that you had our best interests at heart.”
“Whatever helps Justin, helps me,” AJ said. “I need him to keep his shit together long enough to stay in the game. I already have to fuck him over to get to Dan. I can’t afford to screw him over for fun, too.”
“Thank god,” Justin said, grateful for it.
“Joey will go along with whatever you say, because you make his dick hard,” Lance said. “Justin will go along with whatever you say, because he isn’t strong enough to say no. JC might do what you want, because he thinks that he’s being let into the cool kids’ cool club. But I don’t trust a word out of your mouth.”
“You forgot Chris,” Kevin said.
“Chris is a fucking mental vegetable,” Lance snapped. “Come home with me,” he said to Justin.
“What?” Justin asked, surprised.
“Dan’s unconscious, you can’t need Justin for anything,” he told AJ. “Come home with me,” he said to Justin. “Spend the night.”
“Justin’s had a rough day,” AJ said. “I’m not leaving him alone with you and your paranoia.”
“I’m paranoid?” Lance asked. “Kevin drugged him!”
If Lance wanted to spend time with him, he didn’t want to say no, but he didn’t want to be too far from AJ, either. Not with the sight of Dan so alone and vulnerable fresh in his mind, not with his lingering sensory impression of being left shackled and alone on his own hallway floor. “Can Lance come home with us?”
“I’m not hosting a fucking sleepover,” AJ snapped. “I don’t want him in my house.”
“He doesn’t steal,” Justin said. Since he did, he figured that it was a decent point. “You just said that we should open up to each other. And we’re all supposed to cooperate for the game.”
AJ studied Lance darkly. “You upset Justin one time, you’re out.”
Lance scoffed. “I’m terrified.”
Kevin parked the car.
“We’ll meet you there,” AJ told Lance.
Lance left without another word.
“Okay,” AJ said, climbing off of Justin. “Good shit,” he told Kevin. “Call me.” Pointing at Justin, he said, firmly, “Follow me,” and got out of the car.
Immediately, Justin sat forward; just as immediately, Kevin turned around. They met in a slow, deep kiss, Kevin’s hand on the front of his shirt pulling; he climbed forward, into the passenger seat, never breaking the kiss, never leaving Kevin’s mouth.
“You’ll be the happiest whore in the world, tonight,” Kevin murmured, touching him, his chest, his stomach, his arousal.
“I will?” Justin asked, his arms around Kevin’s neck, his lips wet with fresh kisses, his body burning eagerly at Kevin’s caress.
“You’ll get both AJ and Lance. A whoring bottom like you must be panting for a treat like that.”
AJ and - - “No,” Justin said, “no, I don’t-”
“I heard you back there begging for it,” Kevin said, stroking his dick with a firm, knowing touch. “Talking fast to get AJ to agree to it. Letting Lance bring it up first so it wouldn’t be your idea.”
“I don’t want Lance,” Justin said.
“You’re hard right now, just thinking about it,” Kevin whispered, squeezing his arousal. “Your body knows what it wants, Justin, even if you’re afraid to admit it.”
“I’m hard for you,” he insisted. This was ridiculous. Why was Kevin pushing this on him? “You know I don’t want Lance, you know how much I want you, you-”
“A filthy, whoring bottom like you must be so eager for a dominating top like that,” Kevin whispered, lips brushing his ear, fingers drawing down his zipper. “Your hot little cunt must be so hungry for his dick.”
Justin didn’t know what he was supposed to do. If he kept arguing, would Kevin get mad? If he stopped arguing, would Kevin take that as agreement, and get mad? He went with a compromise. “I’m hungry for your dick,” he whispered. He’d never said anything like that to anyone but Kevin, and sometimes the sound of his own voice begging for dick shocked him, but he couldn’t make it not be true. At least with AJ, he didn’t have to talk about it as much as just let it happen.
“Justin,” Kevin whispered, guiding his dick out through his open fly, giving it a squeeze, making it throb, “you little whore, look at how hard you are for him.”
Uh-oh. He didn’t know this game, but he knew that tone of voice. In another second-
“Look at it.” Kevin’s voice was dark breath in his ear. “Touch yourself. I know you want to.”
Oh, god. First he had to pretend to want Kevin’s friends, and now this? He and Kevin were leaning so close to each other that his field of view was full of Kevin, thick black hair, the pale skin of Kevin’s neck. Steadily training his gaze on Kevin, he swallowed, and put his hand on his dick, holding his erection. Then, reluctantly, he looked down at it.
It softened.
“And that’s why you’ll always be a cunt,” Kevin whispered. “You’ll never be able to use that pathetic overgrown clit. No man would ever let you. No woman would ever want you to. You freakish little bitch. You aren’t a man, Justin, you’re a whore. You’re a cunt, a hole that’s only good for stuffing, and you’re not even very good at that. Do you know why you won’t get a threesome tonight? Because even your best friends don’t want you. They know you too well.”
A sprinkling of coins landed across his thighs.
“I think that’s what the whores good enough to get paid for it charge these days for showing twat. Show me yours.”
Swallowing his reluctance, knowing to obey without hesitation or complaint, Justin pushed his jeans down the rest of the way and turned aside, facing the tinted window, one knee propped on the dashboard, baring his ass and holding himself open to display what Kevin wanted to see.
“It’s dry,” Kevin said.
Justin closed his eyes.
“A whore like you should keep a dripping cunt in case someone someday finds use for you,” Kevin said. “Next time I see it, you’d better have it wet and ready. Use a plug and keep it open. I shouldn’t have to do any work to get in there.”
“Yes, Kevin,” he said quietly.
“If you can’t even be used as a cunt, you’re no good to anyone for anything,” Kevin said, and smacked his ass, hard. Justin bit the insides of his lips and took it, was jerked across Kevin’s lap and spanked until his ass burned from it, held still and let it happen and didn’t make a noise. He didn’t even cry. He just kept his eyes shut and thought about Dan sleeping so deeply, so innocently, all alone in that bed, that glimpse of pale arm.
When it was over, he dragged his pants back up and stumbled out of the car and walked around the building and down the block and got into AJ’s car.
AJ started the engine. “How’d you fuck up this time?”
What could he say but the truth as Kevin had given it to him? “I’m a worthless cunt.”
AJ didn’t say anything for a few miles. Then, “If it looks like you have trouble sitting down, Lance is going to think I’m fucking you too roughly.”
“You do fuck me too roughly.” He didn’t want to see Lance. He didn’t want to deal with Lance. Not now. Not when he felt like this, used and filthy and ashamed.
AJ shrugged. “Okay.”
“She told me that she’s never done any professional shots,” Howie said, and JC laughed. “I wanted to give Erik a reason of his own to want to push that record button. If he’s having sex with a woman that attractive, he’s going to want proof of it on tape.”
JC yawned. “I wonder how long it’s going to take. It’s already been five minutes, so they could be finished.”
“Well, you know Erik,” Howie said. “The damned thing just pops back up. He could go all night, if she’s willing to start and stop a lot.”
Groaning, JC said, “Don’t remind me.”
“You said that he’s more confident in moving you around the bed,” Howie said. “At least she’ll get to tour the mattress in several positions.”
And that was AJ’s fault, too, for letting Kevin do it. But Lance had left, first, had left Justin behind with the two of them, so he was to blame just as much.
He’d wanted time just with Justin, some kind of normal quiet time where they could just relax, without stress or fear or pressure or anxiety, without performing for anyone. Lance hated being everyone’s bitch and hated being everyone’s trained monkey. He also hated that Justin had been hurt again, just that quickly, but if he confronted Justin about it, that wouldn’t do any good. He didn’t have the heart.
So he ignored AJ, and sat around a guest room with Justin. It seemed to be Justin’s room; Justin seemed a little more at ease there, and had gravitated there naturally, like it was somewhere he was used to retreating to. Justin curled up on one side on the bed and looked at nothing. Lance sat beside him and turned on the TV just for the distraction.
Nurturing didn’t come to him as second nature, but he didn’t like seeing Justin hollow-eyed and withdrawn, so he put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. Instantly, Justin grew tense and even pulled away, which hurt like hell, but Lance just dropped his hand and tried to get over it.
“Shit, I can’t, god, god damn it,” Justin muttered to himself, rubbing at his hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered to himself, so quietly Lance couldn’t make out words, and then he hauled himself closer and put his head in Lance’s lap, resting his cheek on Lance’s thigh, reaching up and grabbing Lance’s hand and putting it on his shoulder again.
Not having had the luxury of very many tender moments lately, aside from Brian’s constant affection, Lance took what he could get. After a few minutes, he kind of patted Justin’s shoulder, and rubbed Justin’s back, and then rubbed Justin’s hair. Justin relaxed, one hand idly resting on his thigh.
Not wanting to talk about the game, or what they’d just done; not wanting to think about Howie and JC in Vegas, Lance made an inane comment about what was on TV, and Justin attempted a reply to that, and then they were talking, holding a normal conversation about nothing in particular, like they always had. It was a good and comfortable moment, reassuring in its familiarity, and Lance himself even relaxed, losing track of time, at least until AJ came in.
“Hey, it’s Erik.”
“Erik-Michael,” JC said, smiling to project happiness. “How was it, honey, how did it go?”
“I have to come to Vegas more often!” Erik said, laughing. “She knew what she was doing, and, damn, she liked what I was doing, too.”
“Lucky girl,” JC said. “If you’re finished, why don’t you come up to my room? We can have a late dinner.”
“Sure.” A moment of hesitation, then, with feigned casualness, “Do you want me to bring the tape?”
“Oh, honey,” JC said, “I would love that.” Howie snickered lightly against his shoulder, and he swatted at Howie’s thigh to shush him.
“Great,” Erik said, almost as confidently as normal. “I’ll be there in a minute. Bye.”
“Bye, honey.” JC hung up, sitting up and rubbing his cheek. “Sounds like he had a good time.”
“I’m sure that he did,” Howie said, sitting up beside him, fixing his hair for him with deft fingers.
“I wonder if it’s smart, to give him an opportunity to compare,” JC said.
“You think that just because he finally got a woman again, he won’t want you as much?” Howie asked. “Erik can have a woman whenever he wants one, at least in his mind. He wants you because he can’t have you. You’re a man, you’re out of his league, and you’re taken. He’s getting away with something every time he kisses you, and he loves that.”
“Then getting a taste of a woman again, and being confronted with a man’s body, won’t throw him off?”
“He wants you,” Howie said. “He loves you. Given the choice between you and a woman, he’ll always choose you.” Reaching for the phone, he added, “Let me call Marissa before he-”
Knock, knock.
“-gets here,” Howie finished. “How fast does this kid move?”
“When he wants to, fast,” JC said. “Are we ready?” he asked, smoothing Howie’s shirt.
Howie kissed him. “You distract him, I’ll set up.”
Another kiss. “Right.” Tugging up his jeans, JC got up and walked to the door, Howie following behind him. Opening the door, JC smiled. “Come on in. I told you he’d do it,” he told Howie, ushering Erik into the room, taking the camera from him and passing it to Howie. “When has Erik-Michael ever let us down? I knew that you’d do it,” he told Erik. “I can’t wait to see it. I keep wondering how different you are with women, how they respond to you. You have such great instincts. How was the camera? Did it turn you on to know it was there?” Shit, okay, he was pushing way too hard, he had to tone it down.
“It was great,” Erik said. “No problem.”
That was, obviously, Erik’s way of playing it cool so they wouldn’t think less of him. To reward that behavior, JC rubbed Erik’s arm, standing too close. “How many times did you make love to her?” he asked, his voice quieter now as he made his gaze curious and captivated. “How many times did she come?” Licking his lips, he dropped his gaze to Erik’s mouth, shifting sinuously the way he did when he wanted Nick to make a move. “How many times did you come?”
Laughing nervously, Erik said, “Oh, god. Uh, I don’t… A lot? I kind of lost track somewhere in the middle.”
“I knew you’d be good,” JC said, with an approving smile. “I knew you’d know how to make a woman happy.” Since behind him, Howie was hooking up the TV, he gazed directly into Erik’s eyes to keep Erik’s focus on him.
“I don’t do anything that everyone else doesn’t do,” Erik said, and grinned. “I do it better, though.”
Chuckling, JC smiled at him. “Oh, I know that, honey. You’ve already proven it to me.”
“JC, you’re embarrassing him,” Howie said, coming over to them.
“Erik-Michael knows it’s true,” JC protested, lifting his hand from Erik and subtly stepping back to Howie’s side.
“The tape’s ready,” Howie told him.
“Can we eat first?” Erik asked.
“No, we can’t put this off,” JC said. “Howie and I spent the last hour talking about whether or not you’d go down on her.”
“JC,” Howie said, scolding.
“We don’t have secrets from Erik-Michael,” JC said.
“He doesn’t need to know everything,” Howie protested.
“All of this time that you’ve spent speculating on my sex life,” Erik said, “you could have spent having some sex of your own.”
Laughing, JC said, “You have a point there, honey. What do you think?” he asked Howie. “Did we just waste our evening?”
“This,” Howie said, “is not a waste of time. Come on and sit down,” he said, pulling JC over towards the bed.
“Come here, honey, come and sit with us,” JC said, leaving an obvious space between himself and Howie.
Holding back for a second, Erik rubbed his hands over his head and relented, coming over to sit between them on the bed. It amused JC to keep him on edge about whether his relationship with them was now platonic or not. Watching him want them and remain uncertain about whether or not he could have them, was a fun kind of mild torture. He seemed tense, nervous about the tape, but he was doing his best to live up to their expectations, unwilling to be seen as unsophisticated by men he admired.
Howie started the tape, and Erik groaned, turning his face away. “God, does the screen have to be that big? My ass is going to be three feet wide.”
“But just think,” JC said, taking his hand and lacing their fingers, “how big your dick will look.”
Erik glanced at him and grinned, relaxing a bit. JC smiled back, squeezing his hand, wondering if this sexual performance would be interesting, boring, or simply laughable.
Things started off fairly normally. Lame conversation, some kissing and undressing. It reminded JC how dull most sex generally was. When they got on the bed, however, the tone shifted. Something changed in Erik; he almost visibly relaxed. Had the sight of her naked body made him forget the camera?
It wasn’t long, not long at all, before JC realized that the lines that he and Howie had fed Erik had, in fact, been true. Erik really was in his element. He was confident. He was self-assured. He was assertive. He was, respectfully, in control.
“Mmm.” Howie’s hand slid over Erik’s thigh. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Erik asked.
“What a masterful lover you can be,” Howie said.
“Masterful?” Erik asked, surprised and disbelieving.
JC’s fingers stroked between Erik’s fingers, his thumb rubbing Erik’s palm. “You should have told me,” he murmured. Erik’s hand was between her legs, and the way she was shaking and gasping made JC think that she wasn’t faking it.
“You knew,” Howie said. “You can’t deny the way you respond to him.”
No, but he kept trying.
“I like the way you respond to me,” Erik said, pressing his thigh against JC’s.
“You’re young, and that makes you eager,” Howie said to Erik. “But there’s no denying that natural talent.”
“Eager can be good,” JC admitted, his hand straying over Erik’s thigh. There was something to be said for un-jaded enthusiasm. Onscreen, Marissa squealed, clearly reaching climax, and Erik kissed her, stroking her body until she was relaxed and ready for more, before kissing down her stomach. Her legs spread further, her hand rubbing over his hair in encouragement to go lower. JC waited, curious, as Erik went down on her, but quickly Marissa’s vocalizations went from vaguely pleased to desperately appreciative.
“Imagine what he could do for you,” Howie murmured. “He’d have your hungry asshole quivering like-”
“Oh, god,” JC breathed, shifting restlessly, “I know.” He could almost feel it, wet and explicit. “I’d love to get that, honey,” he said, squeezing Erik’s inner thigh. “I’d love for you to give me what you’re giving her.”
“It could be so good, I could do that for you right now and it would make you feel so good,” Howie whispered, kissing Erik’s neck, hand snaking down into his lap and squeezing his package. “I want to make you moan for me like that. Mmm,” Howie kissed his ear, “I want to give you everything you give JC.”
Going along with it, JC turned his head and kissed Erik’s mouth, capturing those soft lips, groaning in frustrated pleasure and running his hand over Erik’s chest. “I love your fingers,” he said, arching as Erik kissed his neck, hearing Marissa cry out through orgasm again. “I come apart whenever you touch me.”
“You love his dick,” Howie corrected, tugging aside Erik’s collar to get at more skin.
“It feels so good,” JC whispered, kissing Erik’s mouth again, his hand sliding down to, oh, yes, Erik was hard, pressing into his hand with an urgent sound of arousal.
The sound of voices broke through; panting against Erik’s mouth, JC glanced over to the TV. Still on her back, Marissa reached for her purse, opening it, contents spilling across the nightstand. Erik picked up a condom, tearing it open and rolling it down, then covered her, kissing her. “You ready?” he asked, lifting her leg over his hip.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. She said it several times, many times, over and over again: first agreeable, then uncertain, then soft and wondering, then with increasing volume and increasing passion.
The way Erik’s body moved, the way his hips rolled, the way he stayed over her, kissing her and stroking her and giving her skin-on-skin contact all the way up, all the way down, made JC breathe harder, wanting it. He could almost feel it, could almost taste it, the heat and press and slide, so intimate, so powerful, a full-body experience.
“Mmm.” Howie’s soft-soft sound of appreciation was warm, arousing. “She’s loving every inch of it.”
JC didn’t want to watch it anymore; he wanted to have it. Kissing Erik’s mouth, he pulled up Erik’s shirt until Erik took over and tugged it off, dropping it and kissing him again.
A wild cry from Marissa. “Remember that?” Howie asked, voice soft and private. “Remember wrapping your legs around his waist and feeling him pushing deep inside?”
“So hard, so fast,” JC said, aching and pressing up as Erik’s hand slid between his legs, his hips rising as he dropped back across the mattress, Erik immediately over him. “It’s so good,” he moaned, kissing urgently as his hips rocked into Erik’s hand.
“Tell me you want it,” Erik said breathlessly, kissing behind his ear, squeezing his hard-on, cupping him. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
Groaning, JC caught himself rocking into Erik’s hand in rhythm with Erik’s onscreen thrusts. “I want you to fuck me,” he panted, “so good and so hard.” Moaning as the caress of Erik’s tongue made his fingers crawl eagerly over Erik’s erection, he said, “I want Howie to fuck you, I want to watch.”
“Oh, god,” Erik said, pulling him closer, kissing him with more hunger, more desire, “oh, god.”
A sudden cry caught JC’s ear; he made himself look, made himself stop kissing Erik to watch. Marissa was mid-climax, shaking and squealing again, coming hard. Erik came, too, right after her; JC was glad that he’d learned to hold out. Groaning, grunting, he fell heavily beside her, panting.
Rolling onto her side, Marissa stroked his chest. “If I’d known you were going to give it to me like that, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time playing blackjack.”
With a surprised laugh, Erik said, “Thanks.” He kissed her, and like a switch had been flipped, he was right back in his zone, confident, assertive, his hands coaxing her body closer until her curves were pressed right to him. After a few minutes of kissing, he whispered something, right into her ear, so softly that JC couldn’t hear. She said, sounding displeased for the first time, “I don’t know, baby, I don’t really do that,” and he whispered something else, stroking her ass. With a laugh, looking into his face, she asked, “Is that a promise?” He murmured something, and she said, “Well, I’d hate to miss out on that,” and rolled onto her back. Kneeling between her spread legs and picking up a small tube from the litter on the nightstand, he slicked his fingers. Then, lowering his head, he went down on her again.
Using this time to undress, letting Erik kiss his chest and lick his dick, JC watched, suspecting, anticipating.
When Marissa’s moans and soft cries reached a certain pitch, Erik’s hand reached back. The camera angle was bad, but he seemed to be moving slowly; he was down there for a while. Marissa moved uncertainly once in a while, hips shifting uncomfortably, but she came while he was down there, so he must have known what he was doing.
Then, a few murmured words, and Erik was reaching for another condom, and Marissa was rolling over, onto her stomach. Erik wedged a few pillows under her hips and stroked her back, moving into position.
There was a soft catch in Howie’s breath.
“Erik-Michael,” JC whispered. Even though he’d suspected, he hadn’t actually believed. The suction on his dick was getting too good; he tugged Erik up, and Erik kissed his chest again, his neck.
Onscreen, Erik had made various sounds since the tape had begun. He’d moaned, groaned, grunted, sighed, panted, and generally sounded like he was having a good time with good sex. But when he made this first new thrust, he groaned in a new way, deeper, richer. He sounded immensely relieved, satisfied, like he’d never felt anything as good. And he continued to sound that way, until Marissa began to twitch beneath him.
He reached around, then, apparently to stroke her clit. She relaxed, then began to moan as he hit a slow, steady rhythm. Pretty soon they were both coming, and when he pulled out of her and began to move, she grabbed his hand back and pushed it between her legs again, holding it there until she was moaning again.
“She can’t get enough,” Howie murmured, stroking Erik’s back, freezing the image.
“It’s addictive,” JC said, kissing Erik, turned on and wanting it. “Erik-Michael knows just how to touch me and just how to make me fall apart.”
“Tell me you want it,” Erik panted, his hand pushing between JC’s thighs, cupping JC’s balls and tugging at his piercing. “Show me you want it.”
All right. First, a hungry, wet kiss, then, “Fuck me,” he said breathlessly, tugging open Erik’s fly. “Make me feel it.”