Sucker
Copyright November 24, 2002-April 18, 2008 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-five
Breathless and sweaty, Nick was the most gorgeous thing JC had ever seen. He was an amazing man and a beautiful human being and a generous, generous performer. He was young, but he’d been on huge stages all over the world for so long, even though this was his solo debut, he brought a lifetime of experience onstage with him.
Privately, JC had wanted some hint of recognition, some discreet signal that Nick was aware of his presence, but he hadn’t expected one. When Nick had looked over, right at him, pinning him with a long, penetrating gaze, he’d been caught, frozen, pulse racing. He’d been deaf to the noise of the crowd; he’d heard only the pounding of his own heart. He’d been blind to the people and lights; he’d seen only Nick and those enthralling blue eyes. He’d felt locked in that moment, held there, as if Nick were connecting with him on an intangible, undeniable level.
When Nick’s gaze had dropped, breaking that connection, JC had felt, for a heartbeat, suspended, then plummeted back into reality, light and noise swarming and overwhelming him, as Nick looked away and licked his lips. Chest tight, body hot, JC had wanted to call to him, to cry out his name and bring him back.
Nick hadn’t looked his way again. But Nick had spoken to him, as clearly and directly as if addressing him by name.
The lyrics to “I Got You” had shaken JC the first time he’d heard the song. They summed up what he’d thought Nick’s perspective on their early relationship had been, before he’d realized that he was being played for a fool. It was like hearing that first, early Nick speak to him again, the one he’d first fallen in love with, the one he’d learned had never existed at all. It was like hearing from an old, desperately cherished, long-lost lover. Seeing the Nick he knew now once more take on the role of that former, beloved Nick, if only for a moment, if only for one song, touched JC in places only Nick could reach.
The show was, for JC, an emotional one, and an incredibly arousing one. Nick’s raw sensuality, his ability to give a stunningly sexual look on command, had long been one of his best assets. His thick, gorgeous ass was another. JC could have happily lived at that concert for weeks.
As soon as it was over, the instant that Nick left after his encore, JC was on the move, ducking down and pulling Joey along, going straight to security. A flash of credentials, and they were in. There were too many people backstage, but someone pointed them in the right direction, and then Howie appeared, pretending to greet them with professional grace, inviting them to Nick’s dressing room.
JC just needed to be near him. Needed it so badly.
As they entered the room, Nick said, “Hey,” and kissed Joey, a perfunctory kiss of greeting. Then, smiling at JC in happy recognition, he said, “Hey, baby. You look good.” His smile was familiar. Suggestive. Personal. JC couldn’t look away.
“What did you think of the show?” Howie asked. Nick’s gaze drifted down JC’s body.
“Pretty good,” Joey said.
“Can you hand me that?” Nick asked, meeting JC’s eyes again, gesturing vaguely to something behind him.
Taking his eyes off of Nick for only a second, JC picked up a bottle of water, uncapping it and handing it over. “That was the best show I’ve seen in such a long time.”
Snorting, Nick finished half of the bottle in one long gulp, then poured the rest over his head, drops running down his face, skimming his features, wetting his lips. JC had seen him do that dozens of times, but it still elicited a powerful wave of heat. Shaking his hair out, Nick ran his hand through it, tossing the bottle aside. “You’re a professional, JC. You don’t have to lie to me.”
“It’s true,” JC said, handing him a towel. “It’s because of your energy, your commitment, your personal investment. It pulled us all in and invited us to be a part of it, too. You love music, you love to sing, you’re stepping into new territory all by yourself, and that all came across and made us feel the music as strongly as you did. ‘Do I Have to Cry for You,’ Nick, that was beautiful.”
“Yeah?” Nick asked, a small grin tugging at his lips and sparking in his eyes.
“There’s such raw emotion in you,” JC said, hot from wanting him. This was a powerfully provocative setting. They’d always made time for each other before and after a show. During Backstreet tours, on *NSYNC’s tour, at awards show performances, whenever he and Nick had seen each other before or after a show, they’d made out and gotten off, sometimes outright fucking. Being with Nick in a dressing room, after a performance like that, intimate and energetic and sexual, had JC’s body begging and urging. He needed Nick, needed Nick’s body against his, needed Nick’s heat.
“You sounded great,” Howie agreed. “And you connected really well with the fans.”
“Where were you sitting?” Joey asked.
“Nick made me stay backstage,” Howie said.
“Looking out there and seeing you sitting there watching, not up onstage with me, would’ve freaked me out,” Nick said. Pulling off his shirt, Nick dropped it casually, exposing smooth, creamy flesh. “Are you coming to the club?”
JC didn’t know which club Nick was talking about, but, “Yes, definitely.”
“God, you look good,” Nick said, reaching over and plucking at the front of his shirt, gaze roaming his body. “Makes me want to get deep in your sexy, tight little ass. I’d have you on that couch and squealing my name in a second.”
“Shit, Nick,” Joey said, smacking his arm.
Blushing, wishing that Joey and Howie would leave so that Nick could do it, JC said, “Thanks.”
“That was charming,” Howie said. “You’re very classy, Nick. And I’m not sure that we should go to the club. All six of us in Vegas on the same night, in the same place, could draw attention.”
JC scrambled through his brain, trying to come up with an argument against that. He wondered if Howie would’ve been okay with going to the club, if Nick hadn’t just said that.
“So we won’t all be there,” Nick said with a smirk. “The four of us can go, and the kids can wait outside.”
“Kids?” Joey asked. “Aren’t they your age?”
“JC, you agree with me, don’t you?” Nick asked. “Ditch Angel and Estrada at the door, and the four of us can hang out.”
“So you can ogle JC’s ass and talk about how much you want to hit that?” Joey asked. “Can you treat him with any respect?”
“What, like AJ treats you?” Nick asked. “Yeah, that shit’s real respectful. The way he had you-”
“You can keep your mouth shut about shit you don’t know about,” Joey snapped, turning an angry red. “What goes down between me and AJ is none of your business, and you don’t know shit about it.”
“When did you get so goddamned sensitive?” Nick asked. “Calm the fuck down, I was just making a point.”
“Nick,” Howie said. “Let it go.”
“I don’t know shit about you and AJ?” Nick demanded. “I know everything there is to know about AJ, I know every goddamned thing.”
“He didn’t mean it,” JC said.
“Don’t humor him like that,” Joey told JC. “He’s an asshole and he’s wrong and he treats you like shit, so why are you babying him? Do you know what’s in his suitcase?”
“Motherfucker,” Nick snapped.
“Presents for you,” Joey said. “Gifts for you. Poetry and cologne and flavored lube. Do you know what I did today?” he continued, while JC wrapped his mind around that information. For him? Nick had brought gifts for him? “I fucked up with Ashley, and I gave him a bottle of cologne to make up for it. The exact same bottle of cologne, straight out of Nick’s suitcase. That’s all it is, JC, he treats you nicely so you’ll shut up and do what he wants. He’s using you, and you’re going along with it! I treat Ashley like shit and he’d defend me to the death. You’re doing the same thing.”
“Wait,” Nick said, putting a hand up. “Wait one goddamned second. You took the cologne I was going to give to JC, and you gave it to Angel? You gave my present for JC to your whore?!”
Nick had bought a gift for JC, and that bitch had it. Joey had given that bitch Nick’s gift for him. And Joey was accusing JC of being just like Ashley? “I’m nothing like that bitch,” JC said, the words tight in his throat as anger burned in his chest. “I’m nothing like that bitch, and if you don’t see the difference between me and that whore that you don’t even treat like a fucking person, if you can’t-”
“Nick’s the one who doesn’t see a difference!” Joey snapped. “He’s the one who treats you like shit, who treats you the way I treat Ashley, and you’re the one letting him do it!”
“JC’s a grown man who knows what he likes,” Nick said. “Angel’s a little kid who lets men touch him in naughty places because he thinks that it means they like him. It isn’t the same goddamned thing at all.”
It was humiliating to have this conversation in front of Nick and Howie. “You run every time AJ snaps his fingers,” JC told Joey. “You drop everything for a quick screw, just like Ashley does for you. And I haven’t heard anything about AJ even pretending he cares enough to give you presents.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Nick said, putting a hand on his shoulder and glaring at Joey. “It’s okay. Joey’s being a motherfucking asshole, but don’t worry about it.” As he looked at JC, his tone softened, and he stroked the side of JC’s face. “I’ll get you something else, all right?”
He didn’t want something else; he wanted the first thing, the cologne, the gift that Nick had bought just for him. “It’s okay,” he said, wanting to be in Nick’s arms but too aware of Howie’s presence. “You don’t have to give me anything.”
“You’re just like Ashley,” Joey said. “He could do anything to you, and you’d take it. Does he come on your face, too?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick demanded, turning to face Joey again, his hand on the side of JC’s neck. “What the hell are you trying to start? Do you want me to bring up the shit that you and AJ did? Because I will, if you keep pushing, I’ll drag it all out here and we can really start talking.”
“All I want is a simple fucking answer,” Joey snapped. “I asked a question, and I don’t hear anybody denying it.”
He wanted an actual answer? JC didn’t want to have this conversation, of all conversations, in front of Howie. “You don’t need to know anything about what I do with Nick or anyone else.”
Joey’s expression darkened. “Are you telling me that you let him come on your face?” he demanded. “What the-”
“There’s a difference between shooting your load in somebody’s face because you get off on dominating people and treating them like shit, and sharing an erotic experience with someone who’s an equal and a partner,” JC said.
“Sharing it with an equal?” Joey asked. “It isn’t equal unless you see your cum all over his face, too, JC.”
“JC comes on my face,” Nick said. “JC comes in my hair. I’ve never come in his, so I guess we’re not equals, are we? Sweetness?”
Oh, god, JC hadn’t expected to go there. There were times and places when he was willing to discuss his sexual habits, but this wasn’t one of them. Joey at least looked shocked enough to shut up for a minute, which gave JC room to breathe. Nick, while looking furious with Joey, still had one gentle, protective hand on the side of JC’s neck, which made JC feel cared for yet oddly spotlighted. He wanted to know how Howie was taking all of this in, but he didn’t dare look over and see.
For long seconds, the room was silent.
Then, “How did you fuck up with Ashley?” Howie asked. JC realized that, while the three of them had been busy arguing, Howie had just single-handedly managed to cut through all of the emotional and sexual bullshit and find the one important point.
“What?” Joey asked.
“The only reason AJ never lets you come on his face is because he knows you think it proves something about what a man you are,” Nick said. “He doesn’t give a fuck about it, he just never lets you do it because you’re an asshole. Hell, he’d probably let Justin do it.”
The world stopped for a second. Even through his own anger and resentment, JC was stunned, and ached for Joey’s pain. Information like that was both horrible and world-rocking. JC found himself replaying the shocking words in his head, listening to them again, forcing them to sink in.
“Yeah?” Joey asked. “Is that right? Is that true? And what’s the reason you never let JC fuck you, because you had no trouble taking it from me yesterday.”
His chest blown wide open, JC would have staggered back if Nick’s hand hadn’t anchored him. Mind whirling, JC tried to make those words mean something else, anything else. No trouble taking it from me yesterday. No trouble taking it from me yesterday. Taking it from me yesterday. Taking it from me. Yesterday. Joey had fucked Nick, Joey fucked Nick, Joey fucked Nick.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Howie said. “You can’t handle what you did with AJ, and you’re turning on everyone who reminds you of that. You can’t handle what you’re doing to Ashley, and you’re turning on everyone who reminds you of that. I can’t help you with that, but you’re in this game, and you’re not getting out. If you were any more intelligent, you’d realize that if you alienate JC and Nick, your primary support system will consist of Lance, Justin, and Chris. Are those the people you want to rely on right now?”
Amazed, JC stared at Howie. He hadn’t expected that at all. And it was textbook Howie, calm, untouchable, stated with infuriating reasonableness, as if calmly informing someone about the weather during polite chitchat.
“I was trying to let the three of you work this out,” Howie added, “but you,” he was looking straight at Joey, “haven’t said one thing that’s been constructive. I care a lot more about Nick and JC than I ever will about you, and I’m not going to watch you deliberately hurt them because you can’t handle your own pain. Either get yourself some help, or get over whatever’s bothering you. You don’t like what the game’s doing to your life, but you were aware of the risks when you started to play. We all have to make sacrifices,” Howie said. “Sexual, emotional, and monetary.”
“You’re paying me the fuck back for that cologne,” Nick said.
“I’d like to know what you did that it took a bottle of cologne to make up for,” Howie said, and smiled pleasantly, as if waiting for an answer.
“Are you finished lecturing me?” Joey snapped.
“We can’t start fighting and fucking up now,” Nick said. “We have shit to do, we have to have everything in place. Tomorrow’s too important. God damn it, I just got through with a show, I’d like to relax and go to a club and have a good time.”
“That’s fine,” Howie said, his hand sliding across JC’s back as Nick’s hand slipped away; JC felt as if they’d just handed him off. “As soon as Joey apologizes to JC, the two of us will go and let you get cleaned up, and we’ll meet you at the club.”
Apologize? JC wanted an apology, but a sincere one, unprompted. Then again, he also hadn’t wanted to have this argument in the first place, and never in front of Howie and Nick. Since the game had begun, he hadn’t seen a hint of a fight among the Boys, but he and his friends couldn’t stop picking at each other, avoiding each other, resenting each other. Even if he and Joey had to fight, which he didn’t want, at least it could’ve happened behind closed doors, not with this audience.
He appreciated Nick and Howie standing up for him; he hadn’t necessarily expected that. He didn’t need their protection, and he didn’t like for the argument to look like three against one, but it meant a lot to him that Nick and Howie had his back. He hadn’t always gotten that impression from his friends, lately.
“I’m not sorry,” Joey said. “The only thing I’m sorry for is that you won’t drop Nick and demand better for yourself.”
“I must have misunderstood,” Howie said, in such a genuinely kind and apologetic tone that it took JC a minute to realize that he was being sarcastic. “I’m sorry, Joey, I thought that you spent the night before last having sex with AJ while Justin was right down the hall, and then slept with both AJ and Justin in the bed with you, but obviously you wouldn’t have done that.” Guiding JC toward the door, he added, in a sweetly calm voice, “And congratulations on having that tattoo removed.” Leaving the room, he shut the door, glancing around with a pleasant smile before saying, “Fuck him, let’s go upstairs,” and walking away.
Mind whirling, JC followed Howie. He was impressed with how polished Howie’s veneer was. He’d never seen someone tell someone else off with such an innocuous tone before, or such a calm expression. He knew that Howie could get mad, he’d seen it himself, and he couldn’t tell which was worse: Howie’s ability to display no anger whatsoever while clearly being mad, or the moments when Howie’s emotions were strong enough to take over and break through?
No matter how hypocritical Joey’s points might have been, however, they weren’t all entirely wrong.
Was JC Ashley? Putting up with bad treatment, letting Nick do anything to him, turning a blind eye and pacifying Nick just to get a little affection? Weren’t they all Ashley, he and Joey and Justin and Chris and Lance? Wasn’t that what this was about, turning O-Town into what he and his friends already were?
Of course he was Ashley. But Ashley seemed fated to be Justin.
Joey had fucked Nick. Nick had turned JC aside with, “I don’t do that,” and JC had accepted that, but now Nick was okay with Joey doing it? Joey wasn’t even trying, Joey wasn’t even making it something that Nick could enjoy, when JC would make it all about Nick’s pleasure, would never take making love to Nick for granted.
Howie had the same old line, “I don’t do that,” but he’d done it for Lance throughout their relationship.
Apparently, everyone did it. Just not with JC.
Ready to go, Nick sat beside him, putting a hand on his thigh. “You have to get over it.”
Joey shoved his hand off. “I don’t need your advice.”
“I don’t care what you did with AJ,” Nick said. “It doesn’t matter to me, and it doesn’t really have shit to do with you and me. How AJ treats you and what you put up with, that’s up to you and him, that’s not about me. What I care about is you and me, our relationship, getting us through this.”
“We don’t have a relationship,” Joey said.
“We’re in this together,” Nick said, “and you’re not getting out of it. I want to have a good night tonight, I want to have a good time. I was even going to be nice to Angel tonight. You have to give him something good, something worth clinging to and fighting for, and you’re not. You have to keep building your bond with him and working on your relationship. You have to make him think that even if you’re not as committed to him as he is to you, you’re close, you could be.”
Joey glared at him. “What are you talking about? You’re wasting my time babbling about Ashley?”
“Look, I could spend tonight picking up girls and having a damned good time,” Nick said. “I could spend tonight with JC. I want to spend tonight with you, and I want you to get your ass up and come with me. I planned on having fun tonight, and I planned on doing it with you. We can talk about what you did to Ashley later, but is he okay right now? He’s not off crying somewhere?”
“I made it up to him,” Joey said begrudgingly. “He’s fine.”
“Great. Then let’s go to the club.” Just as Nick had expected, Joey didn’t move. Running his hand over his hair, Nick asked, “Can I get some credit for not being a complete asshole to you like you were to JC? I didn’t tell him anything, I didn’t spill any of your shit. I think you should grow some balls and stop hiding shit from your friends, but that’s up to you to do, not me, so I kept my mouth shut. Treating JC like shit because you’re, I don’t know, jealous or something, that’s a crappy thing to do, and he doesn’t deserve it. JC’s never been anything but a great friend to you, and he’s the one who should be mad at you, not the other way around. So get over yourself and come and have a good night with me, because I want my boyfriend with me and not hiding in some corner feeling sorry for himself.”
“Jealous?” Joey repeated. “What the hell do you think I’m jealous of?”
“Oh, hell,” Nick groaned, propping his chin on his hand and looking at Joey. “Never mind. Look at it this way. Would you rather sit here alone and feel like shit, or hang out with me and get Ashley to whore out for you? He’s hot for you and he’ll do anything you want, and you love it. Come on.” Nick grinned. “I bet I can make him offer ass for cash.”
“That’s not even a challenge,” Joey said, but he looked interested.
He’d fucked up with Trevor. But he already missed Trevor, and wanted him back. Trevor was a good thing in his life, and he didn’t have very many of those.
From his own phone, he called Kevin.
“I know,” Kevin said. “Call him and get him back. Don’t say ‘I love you,’ but tell him that you’re ready to be his boyfriend. If he doesn’t take you up on it, don’t worry, just keep talking and get yourself back in there. Go over to his house if you have to and do it in person.” Kevin hung up on him.
Armed with those instructions, Chris called Trevor.
No answer.
He tried a few more times, but got nowhere.
Time for plan B.
Left to their own devices, they stood around and avoided eye contact for a few minutes.
Someone came around passing out handbills. Ashley, too nice to say no, took one, but didn’t look at it. Erik took it from him to use it as a fan, then noticed that it had Nick’s name on it. Hey, “There’s an after party.”
“What?” Ashley asked, taking it from him.
“We can meet them there,” Erik said.
“You think they already left?” Ashley asked, leaving silent the bewildered, “without me?” that Erik knew he was thinking anyway.
“Worst case scenario, we get there before they do,” Erik said. “Come on.”
He’d had sex with Brian.
They were lovers now.
He’d expected Brian to penetrate him, first. But Brian had wanted being with him to be a completely different, separate, new experience. Brian penetrated women, that was old territory. For this to be new, unique, Brian had wanted to experience the incredible change of being entered. Jacob had tried to talk him out of it, thinking that it was too new, too different.
But Brian had insisted. “This doesn’t frighten me,” he’d said, drawing Jacob between his thighs, over him. “It exhilarates me. Everything about you is so profound and so different, I want to feel that when we make love. I want to share myself with you in ways that I’ve never shared myself with anyone else. I want to give you my body, Jacob, the way I’ve given you my heart.”
It had been slow and deep, quiet and intense. Jacob had been careful with him, making everything gradual, easy, comfortable. From the front first, so that they could face each other, so that he could watch Brian’s face. He’d seen a flutter of discomfort, and then dawning pleasure, as passion stole over them both. Then he’d entered Brian from behind, pushing deeper, thrusting slowly, stroking Brian’s stomach, cupping Brian’s dick, kissing the back of Brian’s neck, whispering words of love.
Brian had whispered them back.
A magical experience. Deeply spiritual, a sharing of selves, a twining of souls. Brian had shared something with Jacob that no one else had ever had. Brian had opened to him, literally, spiritually.
There was a trembling in Jacob’s heart whenever he thought of it.
Shit! Howie? “Hello?” Lance asked, sitting up, tense, alert, hopeful for no damned reason.
“I was curious about something,” Howie said. “When you came in my hair, was that really an accident?”
Whoa. What the hell was this? “You’re in Vegas with JC, and you’re calling me up to ask me about coming in your hair?” Lance demanded. Beside him, Justin coughed.
“The subject of coming on faces came up, and I-”
“How the hell did that come up?” Lance asked, anger boiling over. Rage hadn’t always been this close to the surface; that wasn’t normal, he didn’t want that. “If any of JC’s cum gets anywhere near your face, if any of Estrada’s cum gets even-”
“Lance, they come in my mouth all of the time,” Howie said, in a soft and reasonable tone, as if coaxing him to get over his silly little insignificant hang-ups. “I thought that, now that some time has passed, you might be honest with me. When you came in my hair, was it an accident?”
God. He’d been fucking Howie from behind, and he’d pulled out to come on Howie’s back. He’d liked to do that, sometimes, come on Howie’s back or ass or stomach or chest or anywhere, really, because watching his cum spurt out onto Howie’s skin turned him on. But, as he’d jacked himself, just as he’d started to come, just as orgasm hit, Howie had shifted and tossed his head, and Lance’s cum had strung across Howie’s hair.
Howie’s hair had been longer, back then, long and silky and gorgeous.
“Yeah,” Lance said. An accident. “The first time.”
Soft laughter. “That’s what I thought. All right. Bye.” Howie hung up.
Thrusting his phone at Justin, Lance said, “Take this from me before I break it.” Rubbing his forehead, he grimaced, trying to get the memories and the speculation out of his mind.
JC came in Howie’s mouth all of the time.
Erik came in Howie’s mouth all of the time.
Did JC come on Howie’s face? Did Erik? Howie had let him do it, why not them? After all, it had all been a game the first time around, so it wasn’t like his relationship with Howie was special or different. Anything for the game.
Lance really wanted to hurt someone very badly.
“You came in Howie’s hair?” Justin asked.
He wondered if Howie had hated him for it. “Yeah,” he said tightly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Maybe it hadn’t mattered to Howie at all; maybe it had just been one more thing to tolerate, one more aspect of the game. Did Howie care about anything? Really?
“He let you?”
Of course Justin would be surprised; of course Kevin would never tolerate anything like that. “I used to come on his face.” Howie’s beautiful face. “He’d close his eyes, he always closed his eyes, because he didn’t want to get any in his eyes. He’d part his lips, just a little, and tilt his face up, and just…let me.” It had been a generous thing, a trusting thing, a selfless thing, because it had been all about Lance’s pleasure, all about what turned Lance on and got Lance off. A loving, giving act.
When Lance turned his head, he saw Justin staring at him as if he’d been speaking another language. After a moment of uncomprehending silence, Justin shook his head. “He let you. Was it like that when he came on your face, was it… He didn’t make it, he didn’t say…things?”
“Howie never came on my face. On me, but below the neck. He didn’t understand why I wanted to do it to him, but he let me anyway.”
“Shit,” Justin said, looking awed. “No wonder you’re in love with him.”
“Does AJ do that to you?” Lance asked.
“No,” Justin said. “Does Brian?”
Lance shook his head. “He’d probably let me come on his face, but Chris…”
Justin nodded.
“Kevin says things when he does it?”
Turning a humiliated shade of red, Justin ducked his head. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t worth pushing. It would only embarrass Justin further, and Lance didn’t need to know.
“Why did you stop?” Justin asked. “You said that you used to come on Howie’s face,” he explained. “Why’d you stop?”
“Things changed.” Their relationship had changed. The dynamics between them had changed. It wouldn’t mean the same thing anymore.
Justin nodded. Then he looked away again. “I wish that things would change.”
Jacob had been playing his guitar all day, off in his own world. Dan had noticed that something had gone horribly wrong with Trevor’s life, but Trevor didn’t know what to say about it or how to explain. Chris’s health was Chris’s business, and even though Trevor was freaked out, and even though Dan could be trusted with anything, Trevor still wasn’t ready to just tell all of Chris’s private stuff. So he’d just said that he and Chris had had a fight, and didn’t elaborate.
Slumped in a corner of the sofa, staring at the TV and thinking about how awesome Chris was and how fantastic Kevin was and how fucked up everything was, Trevor was shocked out of his own skin when Chris sat down beside him.
At first glance, he knew that Chris wanted to make up. He could tell because Chris had dressed up. His hair was perfectly gelled, he had two strands of beads around his neck and nothing else, and he was wearing one of his best fitted, long-sleeved T-shirts with his best jeans and, yes, even his best sneakers. He’d even trimmed his goatee. This was serious.
“Hi,” Chris said.
“Hi.” He sat up a little, waiting for Chris to say something else.
“I’d like, actually, for you to be my boyfriend,” Chris said.
Holy shit. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. “Now?” he asked, disbelieving. “I’ve put up with everything and missed out on - - I’ve wanted - - and now I’m fed up, now I think that I’ve finally had enough, maybe, and now you - - why now, what is it about now? Is it because you want to keep me from ditching your weird, lying ass?”
“Mostly,” Chris said. He had the sense to look guilty about it. “I don’t want to lose you. I like you in my life, I want to have you around. You’re my favorite.”
“Favorite what?” Trevor asked.
“Favorite almost-boyfriend,” Chris said. “Favorite person to turn to when I need something good.”
“Can you tell me what’s happening?” Trevor asked.
“Happening?” Chris echoed, folding his hands in his lap.
“Why you keep ducking and dodging and freaking out,” Trevor said. “Is it drugs? Is it illegal? Is there someone else? A woman, another guy?”
Instead of launching into some story about his work as a CIA agent, or pretending that he didn’t know what Trevor was talking about, Chris twiddled his thumbs, frowned, shifted uneasily, and finally admitted, “I can’t tell you.”
There it was. Confirmation that something really was happening, that there was some secret part of Chris’s life. And refusal to reveal it, a door in his face. “Can you tell me anything?” he asked. It could be drugs; being high would explain a lot of Chris’s behavior.
“No,” Chris said. “I would, if I could, because you deserve to know, and I’d like to be honest with you, but that can’t happen right now. I can’t tell you anything about any part of it, I can’t answer any questions.”
“Why should I do this?” Trevor asked. “Why should I be your boyfriend if I have to put up with you lying to me? There are other people out there, other great people who wouldn’t pull this shit.”
“Okay, that’s true,” Chris said, “and you’re correct to point that out. But those people won’t share a stuffed platypus with you, or have water balloon battles with you, or make you laugh as much as I do. We’ve been, I think, very good together. We’re comfortable in each other’s homes, the sex only gets better, you’ve been very nice about letting me pet you, I get along with your friends. I’ll take you around my friends more, do you want that? We can hang out with JC, I’ll make him blush and laugh for you, that’s always fun. And I’d like to point out that I’m very friendly and very discreet, when I choose to be. As much as you respect my privacy, I respect yours. That car that you obviously pimped out with money from your secret heroin dealing, I didn’t ask a word about it, I just admired it and had sex in it. I like you, Trevor, and this is, in some laughable way, the healthiest relationship I’ve had in years. You’ve done an admirable job of being one of the only things keeping me together. You’re fun, and you’re nice, and you’re a good person, I’m very attached to everything about you.”
This wasn’t healthy or smart. But he was in love with Chris. He loved Chris’s weirdness and humor and backwards candor. He loved being with Chris and having fun with Chris and this relationship that was a perfect, new, unique blend of friendship and romance. His sexual attraction to Chris, the only man he’d really ever been with, was irresistibly strong. “This is going to come back to bite me in the ass.”
“Oh, yes,” Chris said. “Undoubtedly.”
God, he was stupid, stupid for going along with this, stupid for taking Chris back. “Will you see a doctor tomorrow?”
“Medical or psychological?” Chris asked.
“Medical,” Trevor said. He was privately freaked out that Chris had brought up his car. Chris was right; he hadn’t been honest, either. He had shit to hide, too. “After what happened this morning, you owe me.”
Chris picked up Trevor’s hand, holding onto it. “If I agree to that, you’ll take me back?”
He hadn’t meant it as a condition, but, “Yeah.”
Chris crawled over him; the familiar weight, the familiar shape, was comforting. Their easy intimacy was reassuring. Chris wasn’t unconscious in a closet or dead on a floor; Chris wasn’t out of his life. Chris was here, with him, and they were together. “What about that boyfriend thing?” Chris asked, plucking at his hair.
He’d thought that he’d break up with Chris for good, or go through weeks of back-and-forth. Having Chris here with him, already, so soon, made Chris seem surprisingly accessible. Maybe Chris really did want to stay with him. Maybe he really could have Chris.
But if they were going to keep things from each other, if Chris still had secrets, then the label of “boyfriend” seemed wrong. Besides, what they already had was what he wanted. Plastering a pretty label on it wouldn’t fix what was wrong, and wouldn’t provide any extra benefits.
“Not now,” he said. “I don’t think that we should take it there yet.”
If Chris wasn’t his boyfriend, maybe Chris hiding things from him wouldn’t hurt as much.
If he wasn’t Chris’s boyfriend, maybe his guilt over the car, over Kevin, would dissipate.
Not likely. But maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said. He meant it, judging by the unhappiness on his face. “About this morning. When I scared you. I’d kind of hoped that you wouldn’t find out about that, and if you had to find out, that wasn’t the right way to do it.”
“You terrified me. That’s not okay, Chris, it’s not safe. What if you choke? People who choke on their own vomit can die from it.”
“I can’t really do anything about that,” Chris said.
“If it’s from stress, maybe you need less stress.”
“That would be nice,” Chris agreed.
He ran his finger around the rim of Chris’s ear, looking into Chris’s eyes. He loved Chris, and it frightened him that he couldn’t escape that. But it felt good to love Chris, because Chris was his favorite, too. He smiled, and Chris kissed him, and when he whispered, “I love you,” Chris kissed him again.
“Like what?” JC asked, sprawled on the couch, waiting.
“What Nick said about getting you to ride his dick,” Howie said. “I know that some men like being talked to that way, but I didn’t think that you were one of them.”
That was tricky. “It depends on the circumstances.”
“In other words, everything that Nick does is okay with you,” Howie said, sitting at the other end of the couch.
“It’s not that simple,” JC said, sitting up straighter. “If I’m feeling good and going out looking for a good time, then it’s fine. If I’m trying to get laid or about to get laid, then it’s fine. When it’s not a sexual situation, when I’m just doing my job or with my family, then it’s just inappropriate. I’m in the public eye, and a lot of people are going to have a lot of opinions about how fuckable I am. I’ve heard a lot of comments.”
“Not always flattering ones,” Howie admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “There’s nothing like being told by someone you’ve never met before that you aren’t worth going to bed with.”
“That never made sense to me,” JC said. “Unless I’m asking to have sex with you, why do I need to know that you don’t want me?”
“I’m surprised that Erik doesn’t make more comments like that,” Howie said. “I’d expect something like ‘I have to hit that tight ass’ to fall out of his mouth when he sees you walk past.”
“Or when he sees you walk past,” JC pointed out. “I think that he doesn’t because he respects us. He takes a lot of his cues from us. He’s never heard us say ‘I’d fuck that ass seven times a week and twice on Sunday,’ so he doesn’t think that he can.”
“Twice on Sunday?” Howie asked.
“Joey says it sometimes,” JC said.
“AJ says it sometimes,” Howie said.
“Joey says it about women, so he usually uses words other than ‘ass,’” JC said.
“I’ve heard AJ say it about you,” Howie said. “Nick always agrees with him.”
The Boys sat around and talked about how fuckable he was? That was creepy. He wanted them to like him, respect him, not dissect his fuckability. “No two of us can ever agree on which one of you we want to have sex with,” JC said.
Howie’s expression turned speculative. “Should I assume you’re insinuating that you don’t want me, or that Lance doesn’t?”
Shit. He’d wanted to bite back, because he was still on edge from Joey’s comments before, but he hadn’t thought before he’d spoken.
“It’s all right,” Howie said. “I shouldn’t have said that about AJ.”
“Sorry,” JC said, wincing. “It’s been a weird night.”
“You can’t let Ashley get to you,” Howie said. “You’re better than that, JC. You aren’t in competition with him.”
“I don’t know what I am,” JC said, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe Joey’s right, maybe I am Ashley, but then so is he, and so is Lance.”
“I’d give Lance a little more credit than that,” Howie said. “He’s at least more intelligent than Ashley.”
“What’s that called?” JC asked. “Damning with faint praise?”
Laughing, Howie said, “You’re right. Rocks, moss, and Erik are smarter than Ashley, so I should have been more clear.” His phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, then, “Hello?” He smiled. “Yeah. Yes. Okay.” Hanging up, he said, “Nick and Joey are at the club.”
“Joey?” JC repeated, rising as Howie stood. “That was fast.”
“Are you all right?” Howie asked, putting a hand on his arm and looking into his eyes. “Can you be on top of your game?”
“I’m fine,” JC said, even though he wasn’t.
“You can’t let Ashley put you on the edge. You can’t let what Joey said get to you. You’re stronger than that. Joey’s jealous and insecure, he’s letting the game get to him. You’re above the game, JC.”
“Joey’s not jealous,” JC said. What did Howie mean? “Of Justin?”
“Of Justin, yes, but also of you,” Howie said. “I haven’t seen AJ give Joey a gift, of cologne or of anything else. I haven’t seen Nick give Joey cologne, either.”
“Joey had sex with AJ right before he came here, right before we left,” JC said. “If anyone should be jealous, it’s Lance.”
“I’m sure that he is,” Howie said.
It didn’t seem right, that two days from now, JC would be with Nick, that Joey got to be with AJ, when Lance wasn’t with Howie. JC had no control over when Brian saw Chris, and didn’t want Kevin to see Justin, but maybe he had influence over this. “He doesn’t have to be.”
“No?” Howie asked.
“I know that the game has taken over,” JC said, “but what you do in your private time is up to you. If you want to see Lance, you can. You should.”
Howie nodded, and his words came out very neutral and reasonable. “Maybe I don’t want to see Lance.” Then, checking his watch, his elaborate, expensive, newly returned watch, the very same watch that the Lance he might not want to see had given him, he said, “Let’s go.”
He needed to talk to Dan, too. He had to make sure that Dan was all right.
Were AJ and Brian…lovers? Would that even be an accurate term for it? What about AJ and Howie? What about AJ and Kevin?
It seemed incestuous. Well, it would be, literally, if Kevin and Brian… Justin shuddered. Then again, would a simple little thing like morality even slow down a sociopath like Brian? Still, the Backstreet bond was very much like the *NSYNC bond in many basic ways, and Justin couldn’t imagine having sex with Chris.
While Lance watched TV, he looked at Lance’s profile. Sex with Lance? He didn’t want to have sex with Lance. He couldn’t think of a good reason even to try it. How would that even start?
“Do you need something?” Lance asked.
Lance was a top, but he wouldn’t fuck Justin anything like the way Kevin did. And without that, what would the point be? “I’m not your type, am I?”
“You think you’re straight,” Lance said. “I don’t do straight guys.”
“I think that I’m straight because I am straight,” Justin said.
“Straight with exceptions,” Lance said. “And once you’re up to three exceptions, you should go ahead and call yourself bi.”
“One exception,” Justin said.
Lance turned back to the TV. “Bi and bad at math.”