Copyright November 21-December 22, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise 98 Degrees, the Backstreet Boys, and *NSYNC 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, the Savage Garden slashers, and anyone who's actually following this series.  This one's for Diamond, for telling me to get inside Brian's head and trust what he tells me, for telling me to let Jeff and Nick finish a sex scene without other people in the room, and for everything else that she's done for me lately - - including being brave enough to say something about Nick that I couldn't.  You really have to like someone who says, "Focus: Jeffsex.  Jeffsex.  Jeffsex."

Notice: "Living" series: "I Need You Tonight," "Boy Lead the Way to Ecstasy," "Not Easy," "No One," and "Rest in Peace."

        "What?" Drew asked.  "Poured myself some milk?  Yes.  I admit it.  It was premeditated milk-pouring.  I intended to do it all morning."

        Nick smacked Brian's arm.  "Stop laughing.  You're just encouraging him."  To Drew, "You know what I'm talking about.  Last night.  That whole thing you were doing."

        "What?" Drew asked.

        "The oh let me lie here looking all sexy and seductive like I don't even know you're in the room thing.  You did it on purpose."

        "Yes, I did," Drew admitted.

        "Why?"

        "To give you something to focus on.  To distract you."

        "From what?"

        "From the possible fear and the possible pain and the actual realization of the significance of what was happening to you."

        "So I'd like it and feel the good parts and not get scared."

        "Yes."

        "Oh.  Thanks.  It worked."

        Drew smiled.

        "So can we do it again?"

        "Not tonight," Brian said.

        "Why not?"

        "We already have plans."

        "Plans?  What plans?"

        "Plans," Brian said.  "You'll see.  Keep eating or we'll be late."

        "When did I lose control here?" Nick asked.  "You two keep running off to be sexually deviant without me."

        "We'll let you help," Drew said.

        "You'd better.  What are we doing?"

        "You'll see," Brian said.  "Eat."

        "Is that a clue?"

        "No, that's not a clue," Brian said.

        "It could have been.  Like we're doing the food in bed thing.  Or you're going to let me suck your cock."

        "We could do that, too," Brian said.

        "Now?"

        "What?"

        "Can I suck your cock now?"

        "Not now."

        "Why not?"

        "Yeah, why not?" Drew asked.

        "We're having breakfast!"

        "So?" Nick asked.

        "So?" Drew asked.

        "So...we...we're having breakfast.  We can't," Brian said, trying to be reasonable about it.  Nick stood; Drew stood, too.  They came to the head of the table, watching Brian turn red; they pulled his chair back from the table.  Drew pushed back Brian's place setting and sat on the edge of the table, leaning forward, while Nick knelt before him.  "We're going to be late," Brian said.

        "Then tell us to stop," Drew said, and kissed him.

        In the kitchen, JC cut his bagel slowly.

        Justin let go, licked his palm, clutched his dick again.

        JC set down the knife.

        He rubbed it quickly, getting some sweet friction, thumb flicking just beneath the head.

        JC leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on the counter, head down, eyes closing.

        He panted, lips parted, images flickering through his mind.  What they must have looked like, the two of them, here in this very bathroom.  Masculine and naked, JC standing beautiful and proud, tight lines of bone and muscle.  And himself, young and muscular and kneeling there before JC, his mouth on JC's cock, his hands on JC's hip, on JC's cock, his eyes closed.  What had it looked like?  It had been sex and porn and explicit, it had been love and need and want, it had been worship and devotion and adoration.  Porn and love and sacrament.  That was what they had.  What they shared.

        JC breathed.

        He wanted JC, he missed JC, and he came.

        When the bathroom door opened, JC was dropping his bagel into the toaster.

        They cleaned up after themselves, they took turns shopping, they did each other's laundry.

        It was working out almost eerily well.  When they bought the wrong kind of olives or shampoo or something by accident, it didn't really matter.  When Howie lost the number of the person who'd called Chris, it wasn't a big deal.  When Chris broke the printer to Howie's computer, he just got it fixed and apologized a lot.

        They weren't fighting.  Shouldn't they be fighting?

        Howie suggested that they were too mature to fight.  So Chris smacked him with a pillow.

        The sex, the sex was going even better than he'd thought it would.  Because he knew that guys stereotypically were horny all of the time, could get it going no matter what.  And for him, that was sort of true.  But he hadn't expected to get laid all of the time, because that was unrealistic.  Nobody had sex every night.

        But Chris was having sex every night.  Usually every morning, too.  With nice make-out sessions in between; sometimes an impromptu blowjob.  It was good.  It was great.  It was great sex.  It wasn't a routine or anything, it was new and exciting every time.  He was still learning.  Learning Howie.  Learning Howie's body, Howie's responses.  Like the way the backs of Howie's knees tasted, or how Howie's inner thighs were really really sensitive, or how Howie laughed for just a second every single time he first pushed his fingers into Howie's ass.  (It was a nervous reflex or something, not a commentary on Chris's sexual talents.  It embarrassed Howie more than it embarrassed him.)

        He was still trying to decide what about his new sex life he liked best.  Frankly, it was pretty awesome just to have somebody else's hand on his cock.

        And there were things like how nice it was to come home to someone, to have someone who knew and understood his life.  Howie talked to him like an equal, not like "Are you Chris Kirkpatrick?  From *NSYNC?  Do you know Lance?"  Howie didn't get irritated when he had to spend his so-called free time doing business stuff.  Howie had even let him brush Howie's hair when he'd asked, hadn't so much as given him a, "What?  Are you nuts?" look.

        "You ready to go?" Howie asked, reaching the door.

        "Yeah."  He kissed Howie.  Just because he could.  And Howie kissed him right back.

        "Why are you in a hurry?" Nick demanded, halfway up the stairs.

        "We have to get changed and get into town and-"

        "What?  Changed?  Town?"

        "Yes, changed, town.  Come on."

        "Why?" Nick asked, entering the bedroom, turning on the light.

        "We're meeting Drew."

        "Where?  Why?  You never said anything."

        "I'm saying something now."

        "That doesn't count."

        "Nick!  Here, put this on."

        "Why?"

        "I said so."

        "Why?"

        "Nick!"

        "We're meeting Drew somewhere?"

        "We're going to a gay bar."

        "We are not," Nick said, surprised.  "We're not!"

        "We are."

        "Why?!"

        "So Drew can see what it's like."

        "He'll be groped to death!"

        "And how would that be different from a quiet evening at home?"

        "We're going to a gay bar?"

        "Are you scared?"

        "No!"

        "It's okay."

        "I'm not scared.  Why would I be scared?"

        "We're just going to try it tonight.  So Drew can see normal gay men in their natural environment."

        "Wildlife research."

        "Exactly."

        "It's not a leather bar, is it?"

        "A what?"

        "Good."

        "Okay," JC said, taking a seat on the sofa.

        "Just for a few games with David and the guys."

        "Okay," JC said.

        "I'll be back later."

        "Good."

        "Bye."

        JC pulled off his socks, tossing Justin a quick smile.  "Bye."

        Justin hesitated, fingers curling around the doorknob.  He licked his lower lip slowly, watching.  Watching JC.

        JC swung his feet up on the sofa, stretching out, laying back against the armrest, thighs spread casually.  An inviting pose.  He lifted his hips, wriggled down a bit more, sighed.  Closed his eyes.  Let his hand rest over his crotch.

        Justin swallowed, thumb running around the front of the doorknob, eyes running down JC's body.  Down shoulders, muscular upper arms, tight abdomen sleek beneath blue cotton, long-fingered hand cupped casually over groin, denim drawn snug around thighs, a flirting taste of anklebone, gracefully arched naked feet, long toes.

        There was a silence.

        A smile twitched at JC's lips.  Another.  There was a tiny frown; JC's fingers moved just a bit.

        Justin held his breath.  No way.  No way.

        JC's fingers ran down and back, up again.  His other hand rose from the cushion, tugged up his shirt just enough to bare flat abs, then slid down over his crotch.  JC's hands moved mildly, stimulating but not sure how far to go.  Then a quick smile came to JC's lips; he unbuttoned, unzippered.

        Justin suppressed a soft moan.

        JC licked his palm.

        Justin licked his lips.

        JC's lips parted, and Justin glimpsed his tongue.  His breathing quickened, his hips beginning to rise towards his hand.  "Mmm, Justin," he murmured, happy, relaxed, touching himself.

        Did JC know that he was still there?  Was JC going to get off on the sofa?  Sure, they made out on the sofa, they had sex on the sofa; but that was because it was them, because they were like that, they were all over each other all of the time.  JC would never do this alone, just masturbate on the sofa.  JC didn't masturbate anyway.

        But JC wasn't alone.  He was right here.  JC must know that.  That was why JC was doing it.  Because he was here.

        Why?  Why was JC doing this?  Getting off with him right here, but alone.  JC didn't need him anymore.  JC could get off whenever wherever, without him.

        But he was here.  And JC had said his name.

        So JC did need him?

        "Oh...Justin," JC moaned, back arching, and JC groaned, hips rising and falling in that seductive way that always got Justin hard, harder; made him want to come, made him come.

        Justin wondered how long it would last.  JC had great stamina.  Would JC hold off, wait?  Would he come quickly?  Did JC tease himself the way he teased Justin?

        "Justin," JC groaned.  "Oh, Justin," he whispered.

        JC was teasing himself.  Drawing it out, making it good.  He'd used some of those tricks on Justin.

        Oh, ouch, didn't that hurt?  Apparently not.  JC liked that?  Wide-eyed, mind spinning, Justin filed it for future reference.  Then he got pissed and depressed because he wasn't sure he'd ever be in a position to use it.  JC hadn't touched him in ages.  JC didn't want him.  JC didn't need him.  JC didn't love him.  Not the same.  Not anymore.

        JC did the sexiest full-body undulation, then another, and said Justin's name again, starting to pant.

        Maybe JC didn't want him here.  Maybe JC wanted to do this alone.  But he could help, he could make it better.  And JC had said his name.

        JC's hand flew from his cock and gripped the back of the sofa, fingers digging in for control, while JC's other hand clenched on the edge of the cushion.  He breathed harshly, muscles taut.  Justin had no idea what he was doing.  Why stop now?  How could JC stop now?  So close.  On the verge.

        Seconds ticked by, and JC's breathing began to even.

        "I won't come without you," JC whispered.

        The room was still.

        JC touched himself again.

        Justin unzipped his fly.

        Drew hid his face in Brian's shoulder, laughing, fingers curling in the back of Brian's shirt.

        Nick shoved open the front door.  "Get inside!"

        Brian hid his smile against Drew's hair and the two of them obeyed, Brian propping Drew up, Drew snickering.

        Nick slammed the door and locked it, setting the alarm system, tossing his keys.  He glared at them.  Drew snuck a peek at him and burst into laughter; Brian tried to make Drew be quiet but ended up laughing just as hard.

        "You stay away from him!  I mean it!  Forever!  You're the worst influence I've ever seen!"

        Brian's attempts to stifle his laughter were entirely unsuccessful, and Drew's hysterics weren't helping.

        "And you!  You stay away from all men for the rest of your life!"

        Drew howled with laughter and dropped to the foot of the stairs, clutching Brian, who fell half beside him and half on top of him.  Lying there in a tangle, tired and sweaty and shaking with laughter like a couple of nutcases, they looked up and saw Nick glaring down at them with utter contempt.  They laughed harder.

        "I'm locking you in your room," Nick decided.  "You can stay down here away from him before you corrupt him any more."  He pushed Brian aside, rudely separating the two of them, and grabbed Drew under the arms.  He switched his grip, coming up behind Drew on the stairs, and started to drag Drew up bodily.

        Drew, who had succumbed entirely to the hysteria, ignored the stairs thumping against his back and butt.  Brian crawled up after them, laughing, ignoring Nick's curses and threats.

        At the top of the stairs, Nick hauled Drew down the hallway and into the bedroom.  "Stay here," he ordered, and picked Drew up, dropping Drew on the bed.  Drew burst into fresh laughter and rolled over, while Nick turned to find Brian walking into the room.  "Hey!  You!  Out!"

        "Out!" Drew repeated, finding that terribly funny.

        "I'm out!" Brian said, and tried to get past Nick to the bed.

        "No!  No!  You're a bad bad person and an evil influence!" Nick said, forcing Brian back towards the door.

        "I'm bad," Brian repeated, suddenly maintaining a straight face.  "Spank me."  The laughter hit his eyes first, then erupted from him as he dodged Nick and pounced on the bed, crawling into Drew, who was howling again.

        Nick slammed the door and went downstairs.

        Their laughter died slowly, until they were lying there shaking with the final tremors, wiping away their tears.  Brian avoided eye contact, knowing that one glance could set them off again.  "We should apologize," he finally said.

        "Let's make it up to him," Drew said.

        "How?"

        Nick dropped the remote, rose, and left the room.

        Jeff considered frowning again as he watched Nick go.  He remained for a few minutes, then turned off the TV and followed.  As he reached the bedroom, Nick was in the middle of undressing.  He watched Nick, shirtless, broad-shouldered, muscular, with flat nipples and bold tattoos, shove down jeans, sit, tug them off over naked feet.

        Nick tossed his clothes in the hamper, checked the alarm, and slid between the sheets, silent, becoming still.

        This was new.  New and very different and extremely unwelcome.  Jeff thought about it.

        Nick rolled onto his stomach, turning his face away from Jeff.

        Jeff walked around to the other side of the bed and sat.  "Hey."  No response.  He reached out, wondering why he got a weird spark of fear just then, and brushed his fingertips across Nick's forehead, down Nick's nose.  "Hey," he said again, softer now.

        Nick pulled away, shaking his head as though disturbed by Jeff's touch, and rolled over, pulling the sheets over his shoulder, facing away from Jeff again.  All without opening his eyes, without looking.

        "That's mature," Jeff said.  He waited.  Then he went to brush his teeth.

        They always had sex.  Except after the shooting.  But other than that, always.  It was incredible and it was fun and it felt good.  Sometimes it was a marathon session, with what felt like hours of foreplay and then twice as many hours of sex, going on and on, one orgasm after another, just giving it to each other and taking it from each other.  And sometimes it was just getting off.  But it was always incredible.  And they always did it.

        But tonight...it didn't look like Jeff would be getting any tonight.  Unless he found out what in the world was going on with Nick.

        He clicked off the light in the bathroom, got into bed, turned off the bedside lamp.  In the darkness, he rested on one side, looking at Nick's back.  Nick was awake.  He put his hand to Nick's skin.

        "Get off of me," Nick said, voice low and venomous.

        Jeff pulled his hand away, shocked.  Angry, suddenly.  He rolled over, his back to Nick, and glared at the darkness.  If Nick was going to be pissed at him for nothing and then act like a bitch about it, that was Nick's problem.

        He rolled to his back.  Glared at the ceiling.  Rolled to face Nick's back again.  Touched the-

        Nick rolled over superfast, as though he'd been lying there, tense, waiting for Jeff to try something.  He grabbed Jeff's wrist and flung it back at Jeff, glaring, furious.  "Get off of me!"

        Jeff almost hit him.

        They remained there, Nick breathing hard, Jeff barely breathing at all.  They glared at each other with anger, passion, and a terrifying potential for violence in their eyes.

        Nick abruptly turned away, giving Jeff his back again.  A moment passed.  Jeff rolled over, his back to Nick once more.

        Naked.  Asleep.  Naked.  All curled up and tangled together, Drew mostly on top of Brian, sheets tangled around legs and slipping down to reveal the inspiring curves of Drew's ass.

        The room smelled like sex.

        Nick got hard.

        Jeff rooted deeper into the mattress.

        Nick looked at him.  Nearly naked, masculine perfection.  Broad shoulders, heavily muscled upper body, tight round ass under boxers, the bulge of muscles in Jeff's thigh, the proud swollen growth of Jeff's cock.  Short hair spiky from sleep, face relaxed, fingers curling around the edge of Nick's pillow.

        Nick left the bed and slammed the bathroom door.

        Justin, looking beautiful and otherworldly and pained, licked his lower lip, following JC's touch, tasting JC.  A slow glide of Justin's tongue.

        JC put his thumb into Justin's mouth; Justin's lips closed around it.  Justin sucked, tongue coming into play, JC feeling that wet heat he'd missed desperately.

        "Justin," he said softly, and slowly pulled his thumb free, letting Justin lick once more.

        "Love me," Justin whispered.

        "I do."

        "Love me," Justin said again, and reached for JC's cock, their gazes still locked.  "Love me."

        "I love you, Justin," JC said, and pried Justin's grip loose, taking Justin's hand in his.

        "Why don't you love me anymore?" Justin asked.

        "Justin-"

        Justin yanked his hand free and left the bed, striding quickly from the room.

        "Justin!"

        Drew almost spit out his orange juice.  This was becoming a habit.

        "Congratulations," Brian said to Nick with a smile.  "How'd it go?"

        "Felt great.  Maybe I'll do it again today."

        "Have a nice time," Brian said cheerfully.  "Drew, you okay?"

        "Fine," Drew said, setting down his glass.

        "Can I watch you jerk off sometime?" Nick asked Brian.

        "No," Brian said.

        "You?"

        "No," Drew said.

        "Damn."  Nick shoved his spoon through his cereal.  "Hey," he said, eyes lighting, looking up again.  "Want to watch me?"

        "Will there be an audience participation time afterward?" Brian asked.

        "Maybe."

        "What do you think?" Brian asked Drew.

        "If Nick lets me kiss him afterward, I'll watch," Drew said.

        "If I let you kiss me?" Nick said.  "You're weird."

        "Is that a yes or a no?" Drew asked.

        "Yes," Nick said.  "I'll kiss you any time you want.  We can do it tonight."

        "Tonight?" Brian asked.  "But I was planning on going out tonight," Brian said.

        "There's this new bar," Drew said, and Brian's straight face wavered.  Drew hid a smile in his glass, unable to finish his sentence.

        "No," Nick said firmly, and tried to glare at them.  "No no no.  You're staying home if I have to lock you in your room.  Hey.  Can I tie you both to the bed?"

        "No," Brian said.

        "Damn."

        "Right," Les said in the soundbooth.

        "Where's Drew?" Justin asked, checking his watch.

        Nick shrugged.

        "You okay?"

        "Yeah," Nick said too quickly, looking at the floor.

        Drew came in quickly.  "Sorry I'm late."

        "Two seconds," Justin said.  "Sinner.  It's okay, we just started early."

        "Hey, Jeff sounds great," Drew said.  "He looks awful, but he sounds great."  He glanced at Nick.  "You don't look too good, either."

        Nick gave Drew a quick, dark look.  Drew and Justin exchanged a "What's eating him?  No, I don't know, either," glance.  Puzzled, Drew watched Jeff through the glass before hitting on the only likely possibility and asking Nick, "You're still upset about yesterday?"

        "Yesterday?" Justin asked.  "Nick, it was a-"

        "Don't," Nick said, fast and hard.

        "It's an artistic difference of opinion," Drew said, warm and gentle.  "You-"

        "Shut up," Nick said, not looking at them.

        Drew fell silent and watched Jeff.  Stubble, the slight disarray of hair, and worn clothes was a great look for Jeff.  But Drew was concerned about the look in Jeff's eyes.  Or, the look missing from Jeff's eyes.  The light.  The confident, masculine clarity.  Jeff knew who he was, what he wanted, where he was going.  Today, Jeff looked...depressed.  Rote.

        "This sucks," Nick said.

        "He sounds great," Justin said.

        "He's flat."

        "No he's not," Justin said.

        "He's breathing wrong."

        "Do you need to leave?" Justin asked.

         Drew grabbed Nick's forearm quickly, gripping it tightly.  "Don't even think about it."

        Nick jerked himself free and shoved Drew into the wall before storming from the room.

        "You okay?" Justin asked.

        "Jerk," Drew muttered with a glare at the door.

        "He's never almost hit me before," Justin said.  "He's lost it."

        "If he doesn't come back, I'll go after him," Drew said.

        "He's really that upset about yesterday?"

        "Something's wrong," Drew said.  "Wish I were Brian."

        "Why?"

        "He always knows what to say."

        "So do you."

        Drew snorted.

        "Jeff does, too."

        "Yeah, I know.  But sending Jeff after Nick right now may be a really bad idea."

        "We getting any work done today?" Les asked.

        "Is that how they do things at Jive?" Justin asked.

        "Not the impression I got," Drew said.  "Nobody ever makes the Backstreet Boys work."

        "I guess they just expect more from us," Justin said.

        "Guess that's what separates the men from the boys."

        "Men from the Boys?" Justin asked.

        "You know what I meant."

        "Isn't that what you meant?"

        "I don't know."

        "What?"

        "What?"

        "Oh my god," Les said, and turned away from them.  They exchanged quick, guilty, silly looks before Drew left to track down Nick.

        "Hey," JC said.

        Brian zipped up and hit the flush mechanism.  "How's it going?" he asked, stepping near JC at the sinks.

        "How am I, how's the album, or how's my gloriously failed relationship with Justin?"

        Brian turned off the faucet.  "Any of that.  Gloriously failed?"

        "Justin thinks that sex is love."

        "Oh."

        "Did I teach him that?"

        Brian's immediate response was, "Yes."  Then he added, because it was equally true, "But you didn't mean to.  And that's...  I'm not the expert on your marriage."

        "Marriage," JC repeated.

        "Why are you staring at yourself?"

        "Do you think I'm good-looking?" JC asked his reflection.

        Brian was surprised.  Surprised because it was a surprising question in general.  Surprised because JC was one of the last people on earth who needed to ask.  "Yes."

        JC tipped his face to one side, then the other.  Stepped back a little.  Licked his lips.  Straightened his shoulders.

        "Are you okay?" Brian asked.

        "Do you want me?"

        "JC."  Brian took JC's arm, made JC look at him.  Looked into JC's blue eyes, puzzled, worried.  "What's wrong?"

        "Sorry."  JC gently removed himself from Brian's grasp.

        The door opened; Nick Timmons-Lachey came into the bathroom.  "Hey," he said, surprised to see them, obviously not in the mood for company.

        "Hey," Brian said, easing his voice.

        "Do you equate sex and love?" JC asked Brian.

        "No," Brian said.

        "You're with Drew," JC said.  "Never mind."

        "That doesn't mean anything," Brian said.

        "It doesn't make a difference?" JC asked.

        "No."

        "So if he were letting you screw him, it wouldn't change anything?  How you felt?  Your relationship?"

        "No."

        "And if he let Nick do it and not you?"

        Brian wanted to say that it wouldn't matter.  He wanted to say it.  But he couldn't.  Instead, he said, "That doesn't equate sex with love.  That says that sex and love are related."  And he didn't like to think of it as "screwing" Drew.

        "You equate sex and love?" JC asked Nick, who was washing his hands at Brian's other side.

        "No," Nick said, rubbing his palms dry on his thighs.

        JC glanced into the mirror again.  "I need to shave."

        "Is he okay?" Nick asked Brian.

        "No," Brian said.  "Are you?"

        "I almost hit Justin and I think I shoved Drew too hard."

        "Why?" Brian asked, stunned.

        "I hate Jeff."

        "You don't hate Jeff."

        "I hate him."

        "Why?"

        "He's an arrogant self-centered...bastard.  I don't know who he thinks he is."

        "What did he do?"

        "Do you think your relationship is better because you're not screwing Drew?" JC asked.

        "What?" Brian asked.

        "Here you are," Drew said, entering the bathroom.  "We're trying to work.  Come on."

        "Do you equate sex and love?" JC asked.

        "No," Drew said.

        "I didn't hurt you, did I?" Nick asked.

        "Yeah, I think you broke my ribs, you big strong man," Drew said.  "Come on."  He kissed Brian and pushed Nick from the room.

        Brian watched the door close.  To JC, he said, "Yes."  Then he left.

        JC studied his eyes in the mirror.

        He looked at his reflection.  Leaned closer.  His skin was pretty pale, and his eyes were pretty blue.  Dark blue.  His eyebrows were sort of straight, and sort of thick; dark broad horizontal lines.  His nose was...cute.  His mouth was uneven, which drove him nuts.  He looked like a guy, like anybody.  There was nothing special here.

        Nothing like JC.  JC was beautiful.

        There had to be something here.  Something that drew people's attention.  Something about him.  Or was there nothing?  Was it all myth and smoke and mirrors and fabrication?  Image.  He had an image, *NSYNC had an image, and people bought the image.  Who he really was didn't matter.

        It had mattered to JC, once.  JC used to care who he was.  He didn't doubt that.  JC had cared, really and truly cared.  But now...not anymore.  That was gone now.

        The only one left to care about Justin Timberlake Chasez was Justin Timberlake Chasez.

        "Do you think your relationship is better because you're not screwing Drew?"

        JC's obvious emotional unreliability aside, it was a striking question.  Brian couldn't dislodge it.

        There was something pure about Drew.  Something pure about their relationship.  An innocence.  He cherished that quality.  What if they lost it?

        Making love would make their relationship richer.  Different, yes, but not less.  Maybe even more.

        But Brian didn't want to lose that innocence.  That purity.  That charming simplicity.

        Nick had it, too.  In a different way.  And there was no denying that, yes, he made love to Nick all of the time.

        So maybe Drew's virginity had nothing to do with it.

        Still...Drew's virginity was a part of their relationship.  It was a fact, something they lived with, something they'd built their love around, in a sense.  If that were gone, things would change.

        Their relationship was strong.  Maybe because there were three of them, maybe not.  But it was strong.  And it was good.  And Brian didn't want anything to threaten that strength.

        Maybe Drew wasn't the only one holding back on this issue.

        Maybe a part of Brian didn't want to make love to Drew at all.

        If Nick kept this up, Jeff was going to be forced to do something unpleasant.  Because, yeah, he loved Nick, and he was willing to put up with Nick's ego.  But this betrayed fury thing had to stop.  Mostly because Jeff knew that if it didn't stop, he'd lose his sense of perspective and maturity, and he'd start getting mad right back at Nick, like last night.  And that would do neither of them any good.

        Nick parked, wrenching the parking brake harder than was necessary, slamming the car door.  Nick liked to slam doors.

        Jeff decided that a break might be in order.  He could go out for a while.  Give Nick space - - that was supposed to be good, right?  Giving your partner space.  He could do that.

        And if Nick didn't grow up and get over it, then he'd get right up close in Nick's space, and see how that worked.

        "Oh, JC," he whispered, spreading his thighs.  JC pulled him to JC's erection, then opened his jeans one-handed and reached inside, found his filling cock.

        "How does that feel?" JC asked.  "Tell me you feel good, baby."

        "Good, god, JC."  He moaned, rocking his hips against JC's hand, creating sweet friction.

        "Justin."

        "JC."

        "Justin."

        "JC."

        "Justin."

        His eyes snapped open and he sit up quickly, dislocated.

        "Sorry," Lance said.  "We're going home.  You want a ride?"

        He blinked, swallowed, tried to orient himself.  "Where's JC?"

        "He went home hours ago.  He didn't tell you?"

        "What?"

        "You okay, Curly?"

        Lance was using his nickname.  That meant that Lance was worried.  Not good.  "I'm okay.  Yeah, can you give me a lift?"

        "Sure," Lance said.

        "Something's wrong?" Drew asked, following them upstairs.

        "He's weird and broody.  Brian's not the broody type," Nick said.

        "No, he's not," Drew agreed.  Reaching the bedroom, he rested a hand on Brian's arm.  Felt the flex of muscle.  "You okay?"

        "Yeah," Brian said.  "I don't want to make love to you."

        "My ears are broken," Nick said.

        "Please don't ask me," Brian said to Drew.

        "All right," Drew said, concerned, more worried than hurt.  "If that's what you want.  May I ask why?"

        Brian turned his arm, slid it through Drew's grasp until their fingers laced.  Looking down at their hands, he said, "I love you the way that you are."  He raised his gaze to Drew's.  "I don't want that to change."

        "If we make love, you'll love me less?" Drew asked.

        "That's stupid," Nick said.

        "I want you to stay a virgin," Brian said.

        "That's not up to you," Drew said softly.

        "Shit," Nick said.

        "I know," Brian said to Drew.  "I'm sorry."

        "You're nuts," Nick said.  "You're married to Drew Lachey and you're not going to have sex with him?  And now what, you want him to stay a virgin, he wants to get laid.  Am I supposed to hold back for you or do it for you?"

        "That's between the two of you," Brian said.

        "Bullshit.  Everything's between the three of us," Nick said.

        "I know.  I'm sorry," Brian said.

        "Stop apologizing and explain why you want Drew to be a virgin."

        "It's nothing I can explain," Brian said.  "It'll change things."

        "Yeah.  And?"

        "That doesn't scare you?"

        "No," Nick said.

        Drew smiled.

        "If you don't want to have sex with him, and he's not going asking other people for sex, it's up to me," Nick said.  "So I have to pick a side.  That sucks.  And I don't remember you being in such a hurry to preserve my virginity."

        "You have a selective memory," Brian said.

        "I want to have sex with Drew.  And maybe you don't want to have sex with Drew, but it's not fair for you to keep me from doing it."

        "I'm not asking you-"

        "Yes, you are.  You want him to stay a virgin, you have some weird hang-ups, and you know I can't do a thing to him if you don't like it.  It's the three of us, together, and I can't be with him if you don't want it."

        "It's not a weird hang-up," Brian said.

        "You're afraid of what'll happen if he finally gets some," Nick said.

        "Yes.  No!  That's..."

        "You remember losing your virginity, Brian?" Nick asked, and cupped Brian's chin in his hand, tilting Brian's face to his, looking right into Brian's eyes.  "You remember?"

        "Yes."

        "What happened?" Drew asked.

        "You remember my first time?" Nick asked Brian.

        "Yes," Brian said.

        "Is that what this is about?" Nick asked.

        "No," Brian said.

        "Don't lie to me."

        "It's not."

        "Don't lie to me."

        Drew saw tears in Brian's blue eyes.

        "Everything's different now," Nick said.

        "I know," Brian said.  The threat of tears eased.

        "We're not doing it tonight anyway," Nick said, hand dropping.  "Think about it some more."

        Drew was surprised by a warm kiss from Brian.

        He'd almost gotten the story of Nick and Brian's early days on a few occasions before, but they never really told him what had happened.  He wondered whether they ever would.

        Nick smacked away his hand and rolled away from him.

        Jeff was moving before he realized his own intent, grabbing Nick's shoulders, rising up, coming astride Nick, kneeling up, pinning Nick down with his hands, squeezing Nick's hips with his knees.

        "Get off of me!"

        "You tell me what your problem is."

        "You!"

        "I'm your problem?  I'm your friend and your bandmate.  I'm your partner and your lover and your husband.  When you have a problem, you come to me.  If I am the problem, you come to me and tell me about it instead of acting like a two-year-old!"

        The world spun.  Jeff ended up on his back, sprawled across the mattress, Nick strong and angry above him.  "You're my problem!"

        "What did I do?!"

        Nick breathed.

        "The...yesterday?  The descant?  You're still pissed at me over that?"

        "You acted like an arrogant-"

        "You acted like a child!"

        "You called me a Neanderthal!"

        "Only when you started yelling at me!"

        "I yelled at you because you were being a jerk!"

        "It's my descant!"

        "It's my song!"

        "I have to sing it!"

        "You should sing it the way I wrote it!"

        "I made a change.  I made a change to your stupid song and now you're-"

        "It's not stupid!"

        Jeff surged upward; they wrestled across the mattress, almost falling onto the floor, before Jeff won the upper hand, pinning Nick.

        "You always think you're stronger," Nick said bitterly.

        "I am stronger," Jeff said.  And he meant it.  "But you're my weakness."

        Something flickered in Nick's eyes, visible even in the darkness.  A bit of his tension drained.

        Jeff took Nick's hand, pressing it to his abdomen.  "Feel that."  Nick tried to pull away, but Jeff forced Nick's fingers to trace his scars.  "Feel that."  He put his own hand to Nick's body, over the tattoos, the flowers with his name.  "This is us.  This is what we mean to each other.  This is what we'll do for each other."  He kept Nick's hand tight to himself.  "I know that you wrote that song for me.  And it's a great song.  It's even a beautiful song.  But I wanted to make a few changes to my descant.  I sing it, Nick, it's my part, it's my voice, I know what's best for me.  You need to trust me as a professional.  Not that we've been acting very professional.  As your very own muse, I want to say that the song's perfect.  But as a professional singer, I needed to make a few changes.  Yes, I rewrote my descant.  Yes, I know that you're unhappy.  But you and your ego need to get over it."

        "You called me a Neanderthal."

        "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it."

        "It really wouldn't have worked?"

        "It'll be a lot better this way."

        "Sing it for me."

        "Here?  Now?"

        "Yes."

        "You're sure."

        "Yes."

        "Give me the lead-in."

        Nick did, quietly beginning the verse, and Jeff picked it up, remembering the words, letting the notes soar, trusting himself through the arpeggios.  He finished with a quick smile.

        "That is better," Nick admitted, a little proud, a little begrudging.

        "Thank you," Jeff said.  "We work well together."  He almost laughed.  "Don't tell me that made you hard."

        "It always does."

        "I can't believe you still get off on my voice."

        "I get off on a lot of things about you."

        "You want to get off now?"

        "Make up for last night?" Nick asked.  There was something in his tone, something sorrowful, something with anger directed inward.

        "No," Jeff said.  Nick didn't have to make anything up to him.  Knees hugging Nick's hips, one hand slid from Nick's shoulder to Nick's nape, up into soft short hair, as he dropped down; he kissed Nick, made Nick's mouth open for him.  He could feel Nick's hand come to his back, stroking over his skin.  Familiar.  Erotic.  There was still a strange surge of need fulfilled, knowing that Nick wanted him.  And a strange surge of power.  Being wanted gave Jeff some measure of control.

        But he didn't need to be in control here.  He didn't need control over Nick.  He didn't even want it.

        He knew that Nick wanted him.  It was in Nick's every touch, every look.  Desire.  Fascination.  An instinct to possess, and to adore.

        Nick never had kicked that habit of licking his lips, so they tended to be slightly, chronically chapped.  Jeff wasn't sure whether or not that was a bigger turn-on than kissing Nick's lips with the slight sheen of chapstick.  Okay, so Jeff was a bit sick.  But Nick had the most perfect, mmm, wide, mmm, mouth, with the most, god yes, agile tongue...

        God damn Jeff wanted a blowjob.

        Nick was getting restless beneath him, no longer content just to kiss him, moving a bit.  Nick's hand came to his thigh, massaging up the back of it before getting a firmer grip and pulling him closer.  As though he could get any closer.  But closer, yes, he wanted to be closer, wanted to be so close he was too close...because they could never get close enough, sometimes.  And too close, too close was impossible.

        Nick's tongue kept stroking along his like sex, Nick's cock grown hard between their bodies, Nick's hand tensing on the back of his thigh.  He knew where this was going.

        Yes, there it was.  Nick's other hand braced his shoulder and Nick pushed, a quick muscular display to take him by surprise, and he was on his back, Nick's kiss turning aggressive.  Knees up, his thighs hugged Nick's hips.  Nick was heavy, but Jeff had the power and leverage to flex and rock up, rubbing himself against Nick.  Nick started grinding against him, trying to press him down into the mattress, kissing him deep and hard.

        He was tempted to come.  Tempted.  Nick's hungry kiss fed on him eagerly; Nick's body rocked sure and strong against his; Nick's cock was trying to fuck its way into him from the outside, through their boxers.  He could come, could let go, release it all in a rush and feel his world explode.

        But...not yet.

        First things first.  Get their underwear out of the way.  Something they should have learned about two years ago.  But they tended to get too involved with each other to remember the details.

        It was nearly impossible to get a hand between their bodies.  Nick was determined to fuck him through the mattress.  Finally Jeff broke the kiss in an attempt to say something about that, but Nick latched onto him again before he could draw in air.  That mouth really should have been outlawed.

        Time to take action.  Jeff gripped Nick and rolled, taking advantage of Nick's preoccupation to gain the upper hand.  He managed to pull away from their kiss, from Nick's questing, stroking tongue.  Sitting up, he rose to his knees and untangled himself from his boxers, pushing them down, getting them past his knees, over his feet, onto the floor.  He looked at Nick just in time to see Nick moving in for the kill, rising up, wrapping a well-developed arm around his waist, shoving him onto his back.

        Head at the foot of the bed, Jeff barely had the capacity to moan, surprised.  Nick was on him deep and fast and sudden, taking him in and moving off again, an arm around his waist pulling him up closer.  Nick's other hand rubbed up and down the base of his cock, stroking the shaft, before detouring back to his balls.  One finger traced his perineum, pressing a bit harder on each pass, getting his hole to quiver with hope.  Nick knew he hated that.

        Hated it because he loved it, because it felt so good, the tease, the promise.

        And Nick's mouth.  Hot and wet, not just welcoming but hungry for him.  Sucking him up and swallowing him down.  Wide lips with killer curves all wrapped around him, living tongue wicked and pornographic.

        He'd begun to recover his breath, and he knew that he was saying something, moaning and confessing how good this felt, how good Nick was at it.  Nick was good at this, so good, beyond good.  There was no one better.  Nick just took him, and loved doing it.

        He'd been afraid, once.  Maybe ashamed, but shame didn't sit well with him.  He'd worried that Nick didn't like blowing him.  He'd tried to divert Nick, concentrating on other possibilities.  Because, really, considering everything else they did in bed, and how incredible all of that was, not getting a blowjob wasn't a major sacrifice.

        Still, he loved blowjobs.  Loved them.  So good.  And Nick was the master.  And, eventually, he'd figured out that Nick did like doing that for him, to him.  That it was a huge turn-on for Nick, a real source of pleasure.

        He'd stopped asking Nick to make him come, because Nick never did it when he asked.  Now he just let Nick decide when he'd come, and enjoyed the ride.

        Enjoy.  That wasn't even the word for it.  The intense rush of pleasure, the rich high, the way his whole body just soared...  And knowing that Nick was doing this to him, that Nick was the one driving his passion upward, higher...  And knowing that Nick enjoyed it, that Nick wanted to do this to him, that Nick got just as much from it as he did...

        Nick's pleasure was evident.  Nick's enthusiasm.  Nick got on there and worked it, worked him.  There was nothing delicate about it.  Nothing shy, either.

        He'd gotten hard onstage once.  It was a job hazard - - the thrill, the adrenaline, the rush of performance.  JC and AJ did it all of the time.  As soon as the final encore ended, Nick had rushed him into the bathroom and just...right there, with thousands of fans so close and anyone could walk in on them and Nick just...  It had been fast.  They didn't want to get caught.  As soon as they'd gotten back to the hotel that night, Jeff had returned the favor, pushing Nick up against the wall, dropping to his knees.

        He was panting, gasping, trying to say Nick's name, feeling his body shake with the knowledge of impending pleasure, with the influence of current pleasure.  It was too good, it felt too good, he'd never make it, never last, had to come now, now, now.

        Jeff could hear Nick's muffled moans around the wet sounds.  Nick got off on getting him off.  The closer he got, the closer Nick got.  He knew that feeling.  Nick's pleasure always made his cock throb.

        A moan, Nick's muscular arm around his waist and lifting him from the mattress, Nick's finger pressing against his asshole, Nick's mouth taking him in, in, down, down, so far, so good, so good, so good.  He couldn't catch his breath and he couldn't stop trying to say Nick's name and he couldn't feel anything but ecstasy, this thundering sparkling terrifying sensation, and goddamnit he couldn't believe Nick always swallowed.

        He dragged himself back to alertness, shaking off dreamy lassitude.  Nick was licking his balls.  One guess what Nick wanted next.  Jeff decided to oblige, and when Nick's hand stroked his thigh, he spread his legs more.

        Nick looked up at him.  Stopped licking him.  Grinned.  Twisted, turned, reached for the lube.  He could see all of that beautiful, naked body, every muscle clearly defined in a masculine display that, for one perfect moment, was an artistic wet dream.

        Anyone's wet dream.

        Nick's cock was in need of attention.  It was perilously close to orgasm, flushed dark and leaking.  Jeff wondered where Nick's boxers had gone.  Well, no matter.  Without them, it was all the easier for him to-

        "Hey!"

        -and Nick was giving him a glare, in an undignified sprawl across the bed.  He ignored Nick's surprised ire and swept his tongue up Nick's cock.  It twitched responsively, offering more bitter-salt for him to taste.  Nick was trying to kick him, so he sat up and pushed Nick out of his way, laying down, getting the pillow comfortable under his head, resting a hand on his stomach, raising his knees.  "Go ahead."

        Nick tweaked his nose and kissed his mouth and opened the lube.

        Drew, sitting naked at the foot of the bed, wrapped around Brian, slowly drifted forward, reaching for him.  He held still, shivering slightly, waiting, heart trying to calm.  Drew crawled up to him, naked and horny and hard, and kissed him, a deep wet kiss.  He opened for Drew's tongue, welcoming it, and Drew took his hand.  His wet, cum-filled hand.  And wrapped it around Drew's hard cock.

        Nick's grip adjusted automatically.  He knew how to touch Drew.  He was an expert on this subject.  He knew just what Drew liked, what made Drew hard, what made Drew come, what made Drew squirm and beg, what made Drew aggressive.  And he abused that knowledge as often as possible.

        He knew Drew almost as well as he knew Brian.  And he knew Brian better than he knew himself.

        "You want to fuck me?" he asked Drew, making eye contact, using his best boysex voice.

        "Yeah," Drew said, and kissed him again, wanting him, pushing into his hand.

        "You want to fuck Brian?"

        "Yeah," Drew said, breathing hard, trying to kiss him.

        He gave a little squeeze to make Drew's eyes widen and said, "Go fuck him," letting go, pushing at Drew's shoulder.  Drew hesitated, about to kiss him again, then turned and crawled back down the bed for a new victim.  Nick almost moaned at the sight of Drew's tight round ass.  His cock and brain twitched automatically, wanting.  "Someday," his heart promised them.

        He still couldn't believe how tight Jeff was.  It was so good it was almost painful.  And Jeff had superb muscle control, even in there.  When Jeff got wicked and contracted around him, he almost always came.

        Sex with Jeff was never boring.  It was many things.  But it was never boring.

        He eased himself in slowly, carefully.  Jeff breathed deeply and relaxed.  Nick slid home the final inches, filling Jeff, waiting for it.  Waiting for it.  Yes - - Jeff inhaled and moved, adjusting the alignment of their hips, taking on more, making him clutch for self-control.  That moment always felt so good, like he was locking right into place.  They were joined as best they ever could be right then.

        Sometimes all he wanted was to get in there and take his pleasure.  But no, that wasn't all he wanted.  He wanted to give pleasure.  Make Jeff feel as good as he felt.  Better, even.  If that were possible.

        Was that the difference between having sex and making love?  That one was every man for himself, and the other was sharing and giving?

        No, he was selfish.  He made Jeff feel good because turning Jeff on and making Jeff come made him incredibly horny.  Every time Jeff gave off a quick sigh of pleasure, his blood ran hotter.

        He moved his hips slowly, one hand on the mattress for balance, the other on Jeff's hip.  He hit the angle just right, nudging up against Jeff's prostate, making sure Jeff felt it. He didn't know how long he could keep going in this hot constriction.

        Jeff had a knee up over Nick's shoulder, other leg propped on Nick's hip and wrapping around his waist.  He moved his hand in, reaching for Jeff's cock.  Jeff groaned and jerked, hips bucking up to Nick's touch.  Nick's grip tightened reflexively as he sought for physical control; Jeff reacted to that with another upward thrust and the race was on.

        Panting, occasionally grunting with exertion, Nick repeatedly snapped his hips fast and hard, pumping his cock into Jeff.  He took his hand from Jeff's cock and rested it on Jeff's abdomen, feeling muscles clench and unclench beneath his fingers as Jeff thrust and counterthrust.  The power Jeff displayed, and the power Jeff restrained, were almost literally enthralling.

        Nick took one moment, one long, precious moment, to take in Jeff.  The strength and power.  The control and stamina.  The sweat and groans and flexing muscles and rocking hips and tight ass and heat and lips almost shaping his name and blue eyes staring right at him, at him, into him, and he came, quickly wrung dry by Jeff's tightening muscles.

        He collapsed, quivering muscles giving out on him, draped over Jeff.  With his face in Jeff's neck, he felt Jeff's cock pressing hard and full into his stomach, Jeff's hand stroking his sweaty back.  When he trusted himself to move again, he pushed up a little, easing his cock free, watching the frown that always flitted over Jeff's face at that moment.  He rested a hand on Jeff's cock, stroking gently.

        Jeff's hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.  "You going to let me?" Jeff asked.

        He just moved in for another kiss.  Kissing was better than answering.  Jeff's tongue was gentle tonight, but thorough as ever.

        "Will you?" Jeff asked, and rubbed up against him, cock leaving a wet streak on his hip.  That felt good, yeah, Jeff hot and hard for him, because of him, wanting him.  Jeff rubbed up against him a second time and he tried to push Jeff back down on purpose, knowing the reaction to come.  Sure enough, Jeff surged up and rolled them over, so he rolled back, and then they were wrestling across the bed and oh shit falling onto the floor with a thud and an "Oof!"

        "You okay?" Jeff asked, getting on top of him.  He caught Jeff's chin and guided Jeff in for a kiss, then another.  Jeff moaned some and started to rub against him again, a small, unconscious action.  He spread his thighs, raising one knee, getting Jeff closer to what they both wanted.  Jeff's mouth left his in favor of his collarbone, licking and biting across it, kissing down to suck on a nipple.

        "We," quick moan, "aren't doing," soft groan, oh, yeah, so good, "this on the, oohhh, floor," he said, trying to rock his hips up towards Jeff's.

        "Wouldn't be the first time," Jeff said, and sucked on his other nipple now, leaving the first aching.

        True.

        "Where do you want it instead?" Jeff asked, kissing down his ribcage, hand getting in between his thighs.

        "The bed."

        "Been there.  Done that."  Jeff licked his navel.

        Where hadn't they done it?  He reached down and pushed at the top of Jeff's head to get Jeff's attention where he wanted it.  Jeff was, as always, completely uncooperative, and moved up his body to kiss his mouth again.  Not that he could complain about that.

        Jeff was strong and hard and heavy in his arms, on top of him.  He rolled them over to kiss the smooth skin of Jeff's pecs, to lick at a tight nipple.  Jeff rolled them over again, too soon, and lifted his thigh, rubbing a finger against his entrance.  "Now?"

        Any time was good for Nick.  He rolled them over and hauled himself onto the bed, climbing up and across the mattress.  Jeff followed immediately, so close that when he reached for the lube he felt Jeff's tongue stroke up the back of his thigh.  He dropped to his back and offered the lubricant.

        "Think I'll make you come first," Jeff said.

        "No," he said.

        "Yeah," Jeff said, and one slick finger popped into his body.

        "No."  He'd already come once, and he knew that he'd come again when Jeff was in him.  He didn't want Jeff to make him come just from being fingered.  It scared him.  His body's reactions were so intense sometimes that they frightened him.

        "Yeah," Jeff said, and kissed him, finger hooking against his prostate.

        "No," he moaned, thighs spreading, back arching.  Within moments, he was gone.  He moaned into Jeff's kisses, nipples aching under Jeff's fingers, one knee up on Jeff's shoulder as he spread and lifted and opened himself for two fingers, then three, the pleasure sparking and shooting deep inside, and he gripped Jeff's other shoulder for control.

        He came, he came, mind spinning, pleasure exploding, everything a sudden rush of sensation, and then he felt it, felt Jeff, hot and hard and much too much no god no god yes and he screamed.  It was too much, he'd just come, he couldn't, no, too good, too good, please yes yes yes yes...

        He couldn't breathe and he was shuddering and his heart was pounding with fear and pleasure.  Intense, too intense, too much.

        And then Jeff started to move.

        Justin pressed back even closer.

        JC whispered his name and kissed his nape.

        It felt incredible.  The sensation was indescribable.  Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to force his cock into all of that hot muscle, just feel it close around him.

        But it hurt Nick.  He knew it hurt Nick.

        Taking Nick in mid-orgasm either had been his best idea yet, or his worst.  Nick had tried to push him away and tried to pull him closer and almost shoved him off but then thrust up for more, and those sounds, that scream, those whimpers and groans.  Sounds of someone being tortured.

        Then Nick's eyes popped open and he gasped and his lips were parted and Jeff leaned in, kissed him, and Nick bit his lower lip.  Then Nick was arching and panting and a million miles away in that blissed-out pleasure zone.  Jeff thrived on sending him there.

        It was almost impossible to move, and Nick wasn't relaxing around him, but everything felt so good that he couldn't stop thrusting, had to keep going, pounding himself into Nick's body.

        He could have gone on forever.  He wanted to go on forever.  His entire body was in his cock, and his cock was exciting Nick's body, and Nick's body had disconnected Nick's mind, and there was no feeling, no pleasure, no reward, like this on earth.  Giving this to Nick, doing this to Nick.  Overriding the pain, forcing away the fears, making everything, everything, about this ecstasy.

        Nick whispered his name, again, again, began to sound panicked, and he slammed his hips to Nick's body, slammed himself home, again, again, again, and Nick screamed, and then Nick's cock shot jism, and Nick was still screaming, and he thrust harder, faster, harder, faster, and it was too tight and too hot and too too too too tight, and he came.

        When he remembered where he was, he heard a series of arrhythmic gasps by his ear.  He raised his head and cleared his vision and looked into Nick's face.  "You okay?"

        Nick nodded.

        "Hold on."  He reached between their bodies.  Nick inhaled, then exhaled slowly and he slowly tugged himself free.  He sighed and Nick moaned softly, both feeling relief and disappointment.  He stroked Nick's relaxing thighs and kissed parted lips.  Nick's tongue flickered against his inquisitively.  "Hmm."

        "What?" Nick asked, kissing him, tilting them to their sides, fingers caressing the small of his back.

        "You want me to rim you tomorrow?"

        "What's wrong with now?"

        "We should sleep."

        "We can sleep tomorrow."

        "It is tomorrow."

        "Then rim me."

        There was something wrong with that logic.  "Tomorrow."

        "Today is tomorrow."

        "Then tonight."

        "You'd better."

        "I will."

        "Good night."

        "Good night."

        "Stop kissing me."

        "Stop touching me."

        Nick laughed.  "Go to sleep!"

        "You first."  He pushed Nick over again, sliding on top, sucking on a full, delicious lower lip.

        "What?" he asked flatly.

        "I love you."

        "No."

        "No?" JC asked.

        "You don't love me.  You don't love me.  Don't tell me you love me when you don't love me."

        JC hoisted himself up on one elbow.  Justin refused to look at him.  "Justin?"

        "You don't love me anymore.  I know you don't.  You can stop pretending."

        "You think I don't love you."  JC's voice was soft, filled with wonder and pain.  "Justin.  Oh my god, Justin."

        "If you want me to move out, or if you want a divorce, or-"

        "No.  Stay with me."

        "Why?"

        "Because I love you.  I want you with me."

        "You don't.  You don't want me or need me or love me or-"

        "I do."

        "Not as much.  Not anymore."

        "It's not the same," JC said.  "What we used to have - - we can never have that again.  You know we can't go back there.  It's not safe for either of us.  It's not good for us."

        "You loved me then."

        "I love you now."

        "You won't even kiss me anymore."

        "What if I did?"

        "I don't know."

        "I miss you, Justin."  JC's long fingers stroked his cheek.  "I miss you so much."

        He just looked into JC's eyes.

        "I love you.  I love you more than anything in the world.  You are my world."

        He rested his hand against JC's chest.  Felt JC's steady heartbeat through the thin cotton of JC's shirt.

        "I love you.  I need you.  I want you.  So much.  Too much.  I can't help myself.  We can't go back to the way it was.  You know we can't.  But what we are together, what we can have together, it'll be better than ever.  Let me show you."

        "Show me what?"

        "How strong we can be together if we're also strong apart."

        "I'm not strong."

        "You don't know how strong you are.  I've seen it.  I know it."

        "Not without you."

        "Yes."

        "No.  Without you all I have is me."

        JC smiled.  "But you have yourself.  That's what matters.  That's what we needed to see.  That even without each other, we're still ourselves.  We can count on ourselves when we have to."

        "I don't want to be by myself.  I want to be with you."

        "Then come and be with me," JC invited softly.

        "I don't know how."

        "Justin.  Come here."

        Justin breathed quickly, eyes darting.

        "I won't leave you.  I don't want you to leave me, either.  It's up to you.  I want you with me, I want you to love me, I want us to be together.  We're strong apart, but we can be so much stronger together.  You know how good we can be."

        "You left me."

        "You pushed me away and I didn't know how I'd survive without you.  But now I know I can survive without you.  If I have to.  But I don't want to.  I don't want to be without you.  I want us to be together."

        "You want me to believe what you say to me."

        "I don't lie to you, Justin."

        "Do you love me, JC?"

        "Yes.  I love you."

        "Show me.  Prove it."

        "I will.  I do.  Every day.  Every minute."

        "Do you want me, JC?"

        "Yes.  I want you.  All of the time.  I want to be near you.  I want to make love to you.  I want to touch you.  I want to make you come.  I want you all of the time."

        "Make love to me."

        "What will that prove?"

        There was a long silence.

        JC waited.

        "I don't know," Justin said.  "Maybe nothing.  Maybe not a thing.  But I miss you and I want you and it's been so long I can't stand it.  I can't take this, JC.  Let me be close to you again.'

        "That's what I want."

        "Make love to me."

        "Tell me you love me.  Let me hear it."

        "I can't."

        "Why not?" JC asked, concerned, stroking Justin's collarbone.

        "I can't love you, JC.  I don't even love myself anymore."

        "Justin.  What's wrong?  Why not?"

        "I thought you didn't love me.  I still don't know.  If you don't love me..."

        "But why does that matter?  Who cares what I think?  You're so special, Justin.  Everybody's worthy of love, but you, you deserve so much.  You're beautiful.  How can you not love that?"

        "You don't.  Why don't you love me, JC?"

        "I do!"

        "You left me."

        "You told me to go.  Every time."

        "It's not my fault!"

        "You told me to leave."

        "I didn't tell you to kill yourself!"

        "Good," JC said, sitting up in bed.  "Good.  We need this."

        "What?" Justin asked, sitting up a little slower, startled, confused.

        "We're angry.  We're still hurt and mad over what happened.  We need this, to yell, to get it out."

        "Thanks, Dr. JC."

        "You're angry with me for leaving, you felt abandoned.  I'm mad at you for pushing me away.  And you did push me, and I did go, so we both have-"

        "Wait."

        "What?"

        "You're glad that we're angry?"

        "Yes."

        "You want me to hate you for leaving me?"

        "Yes."

        "Good.  I hate you.  You're a selfish bastard who used me and manipulated me for two years.  You've trashed every identity I ever had, and now - - I was in the bathroom yesterday at Jive, and I was standing there wondering where you got that gun.  Where I could get one.  Or whether slitting my wrists might be easier.  No, don't look at me like that, you know I won't kill myself.  Maybe I am strong."

        "You are strong."

        "I hate you for what you've done to me."

        "I'm sorry."

        "You're sorry?!"

        "I never meant to hurt you.  I only wanted to love you."

        "You love too much, JC."

        "I don't know how to love you any less."

        "What do you think this is?  This is my life you're messing with!  You haven't changed a bit.  You'll never change.  You can stop fucking me every second, and you can stop calling me 'baby,' but you're still the same twisted psycho you've always been."

        "Not always."

        "No, not always.  That's right.  Just for the past two years.  Just as long as you've been with me.  Just as long as it's taken for you to fuck me up."