Cold

Cold, a "Slice of Life" following "Snow Day" and "Fire"

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairing (so to speak): Nick Carter/Drew Lachey/Brian Littrell

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise 98 Degrees and the Backstreet Boys 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: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and the Savage Garden slashers.

Wherein Drew's cold, Brian's sleeping, and Nick can't find the thermometer.

Notice: Read "Living." Read "Snow Day" and "Fire." Then you may read this story.

        "Mmm. What's wrong?"

        "Ssshhh. Go back to sleep."

        "You're scrinching around."

        "Scrinching?"

        "What? It's a word. Stop laughing at me. You'll wake up Brian, and then he'll get mad at us."

        "He won't get mad."

        "He's mean to me all of the time."

        "He is not."

        "Hit him for me."

        "Hit - - I'm not hitting Brian!"

        "What kind of Drew are you?"

        "A cold one."

        "Is that why you're scrinching?"

        "Yeah."

        "Poor chilly Drew. Let me warm you up."

        "Nick! Not there."

        "You're nice and warm down there."

        "That's because the...oh...the...oh, Nick..."

        "Are you warmer? You keep moving like that, you'll wake up Brian. Here, I'll make a nice Nick blanket for you. Is that better?"

        "Oh...oh...ooohhh..."

        "Are you cold down in here, too?"

        "Oh...ah...ah...ah..."

        "You feel nice and warm in here, Drew. I don't think you're cold at all anymore."

        "Oh! Oh, Nick, oh..."

        "Where's my thermometer? Drew, do you know where I left it? You're not listening to me, you're busy breathing all sexy. Here, this will do. Hold still."

        "Oh oh oh oh ah...ah...ah...Nick..."

        "You'll wake...god...Brian...fuck...Drew..."

        "Nick..."

        "God damn. Drew. God."

        "Please..."

        "You're...you're...so fucking good so fucking good so fucking good, god, damn, holy, shit, Drew."

        "Nick...oh, oh, oh, please..."

        "So...fucking...fucking...fucking...sexy..."

        "Oh...ooohhh...Nnnnick..."

        "Fuck you forever."

        "Nick..."

        "Take it. Take it."

        "Nick..."

        "Oh my god, Drew."

        "Ooohhh...mmm...Nick..."

        "God. God. Damn. You're one sexy bitch, Drew. God. Fuck me. You warm now?"

        "Yeah. C'mere."

        "You even yawn sexy."

        "Night."

        "Good night, Drew. Gimme kiss."

        "Mmm."

        "Sleepy Drew. Can I fuck you again in the morning?"

        "Mmm."

        "Good."

matthew@matthewtime.com
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