A Familiar Feeling

A Familiar Feeling

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: wicked cackle

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise 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 and the Savage Garden slashwriters. It's also for Vincent. My apologies to Mia.

Wherein the reader will find no Brian, no JC, and no Drew, so there. Dude.

Notice: Kyla and Lois were talking about Howie having a cat named Christopher. They decided that, of course, Chris gave him the cat.

Alla

No more tour. No more tour. Chris managed to unlock his front door. Home sweet home. More like house sweet house; this place hadn't been home for a long time now.

"Halt! Who goes there?!"

"What's the combination for this thing?" Chris asked, squinting at the alarm box.

"Chris, dude. Oh-eight-two-two-seven-three. You're home!"

Right. 082273. "Home I am," he agreed, and dropped his luggage without ceremony.

Flick turned on the light. "How's the tour?"

"Great. Long. Over. Where's my bed?"

"I've been using it. The one in the guest room's not as nice."

"I haven't slept in my own bed for... I'll take the guest room."

"Dude, can I hang for a while?"

"Yeah." Chris started up the staircase. "I'm going to bed. See you in a few years."

"Eeyyaahh!" Chris scrambled up and back, pressing himself against the headboard. "Holy...cats. Holy cat. Unholy cat." Post-tour. At home. With a cat. He didn't have a cat. "This house is infested. Flick!"

"Dude, scream much? You've got the voice for it. What's up, you want breakfast in bed now? I'm the house-sitter, not the baby-sitter."

"Cat."

"Oh, right. Dude, this is Peter."

"Why is a cat in my house? You're cat-sitting?"

"Guess I am. Chris, dude, it's your cat."

Chris dared to take his eyes from it, looking at Flick. "What?"

"That tall blond guy dropped it off."

Tall blond guy. "Justin?"

"No, the other one."

"Lance?" Chris needed to make new friends.

"No, the one you hate. Lance's girlfriend."

Lance's... "Nick?" This was getting better and better. The cat probably had rabies. At least.

"Right. The singer dude. He brought it over. It's a present. Not from him. He's the delivery boy."

"Give it back."

"Peter's cool, Chris. Peter's my main man. After you."

"Thanks. It's nice to be classified above a lower species."

"Peter doesn't think he's lower than anybody. Cat's got class. Kitten, I think. He's just a baby. I had to train him. Dude. Makes me feel fucking maternal. Oh, and I hope you didn't like that green rug thing downstairs, because he tore it up and pissed on it."

"The one in the...that was kind of ugly." Maybe the cat had taste.

"I got this book, tells you all about how to train him. So he won't piss on your shit or scratch it up anymore. We've been working on it. He's better than people now. And, dude, right now, this is his house and you're the stranger here. So treat him nice."

"Is he going to pay the mortgage, too?"

"Do you know how fucking expensive cat shit is?"

Cat shit? Oh.

"I took it out of the house-sitting budget. I'm not paying for this out of pocket."

"I'll send Nick the bill later. Did he say why he brought this over here?"

"His name's Peter, Chris. He knows it, too. Nick just said it was a present from somebody."

Chris wanted to box up the cat and take it back to Nick, but Peter refused to be restrained, and Chris got tired of Flick laughing at him for chasing the dumb cat all around the house. In the end, he left Peter behind and drove to Nick's. Then he got lost. Then he remembered that Nick might not be home right now, anyway. He drove to Lance's.

Nick opened the door and blocked the way with his body. "He's sleeping."

Now? Lance? Oh. Never mind. Chris didn't want to think about that. He tried to avoid the dry heaves. "You can take your cat back now."

"My cat?"

"That black thing you left at my house."

"Not my cat."

"Whose is it?"

"Yours."

And Lance saw what in this person? "You got it from somewhere. You can take it back."

"No."

Time to bring in the big guns. "Lance! Lance! Don't you close the door on me, you Child of Satan."

"He's sleeping. Shut up. God, Howie doesn't even sound like that."

"Lance!"

"Chris?"

Nick glared at Chris with pure hatred, then stepped aside just enough to let Chris see Lance approaching. It was clear that Lance had only now rolled from bed, his spiked hair unruly, pale blue bathrobe hanging open over T-shirt and boxers, fuzz gracing his jaw.

"Lance. Long time no see."

"Hey. Come in."

Chris entered, edging around Nick with disdain. "You know anything about my cat?"

"You don't have a cat," Lance said.

Post-tour, post-sex, post-sleep Lance sounded good. "Correction: I didn't have a cat. Now there's one living in my home. Flick says that Nick dumped it there."

"Nick?" Lance asked. "Is Flick..."

"You know I don't let him house-sit unless he's clean. Nick brought a cat to my house and left it there, and I want him to take it back."

Lance looked past Chris to Nick, scratching the back of his neck, fatigued and confused but still Lance, wanting to straighten this out. "You gave Flick a cat?"

"I gave Chris a cat," Nick said. "He just wasn't home."

"You knew I wouldn't be," Chris said.

"Someone was there to take care of it," Nick said.

"Where did you get a cat and why did you give it to me?" Chris asked.

"It is kind of weird," Lance agreed. Not taking sides, not making crucial judgments, only amused in his own superior way. Chris loved Lance's sense of humor. There was no way this oaf could appreciate it.

"I'm not taking the cat back," Nick said. "It's yours. You do what you want with it."

"I'm not keeping it," Chris said.

"Give it to Flick," Lance said. "As a thank-you for house-sitting."

Lance was smart.

"Keep it," Nick said.

"Why?" Chris asked.

"Keep it," Nick said.

"There are rubies lining its stomach, and when it dies I'll be a millionaire," Chris guessed. "It's the long-lost pet cat of a rich empress, and she'll give me a great reward for keeping it safe. It knows who really killed JFK. It's your mother in disguise."

"Shut up and keep the cat."

"He's a great conversationalist," Chris told Lance. "The two of you must have great philosophical debates."

"I like to talk with Nick," Lance said. "Why don't you keep the cat for another week or two?"

"Why?"

"It can't hurt. It's already settled in there."

"It shredded my rug."

"The green one?" Lance asked with hope.

"I'm calling the Humane League to rid a house of an unwanted dumb animal." Chris glared at Nick. "Then I'll decide what to do about that cat." He left.

"He's one bitter old queen," Nick said, and walked to Lance, straightening Lance's bathrobe. "Go back to bed."

"Why did you give Chris a cat?" Lance asked, still puzzled.

"Somebody asked me to."

"Who?"

Nick shrugged. "It was a while ago."

Lance chuckled. "And so many people ask you to deliver cats to my friends, it's hard to remember them all."

"If I'd known he'd barge in here, I wouldn't have bothered."

"Chris is allowed to barge in here any time he likes," Lance reminded Nick in a casual, calm tone. Then he cut off Nick's next argument, saying, "He didn't know I was sleeping."

"You just got back."

"So did he, and he's up and about."

"He's an old man who probably went home and dropped off to bed. You came home, unpacked, started the laundry, ate, and fucked for a couple of hours."

"Not in that order."

Nick slid his hand up Lance's naked thigh, beneath the thin cotton material of Lance's underwear. "That wasn't my fault."

"No, that was my fault," Lance agreed, feigning calm.

"You should go back to bed."

"Back to sleep?"

"Yes." Nick caressed Lance's thigh, running his fingers along the lower curve of Lance's ass.

"I don't have to sleep," Lance said, trying to keep his voice even, trying to veil the lust in his eyes.

"I want you to sleep," Nick said. "I want you to dream about how much you want me."

Oh...

Nick's hand came around to the front of Lance's boxers, fingering Lance's dick through the fabric. "We haven't fucked for ages."

"Last night," Lance managed to say, keeping his hips still through sheer willpower.

"Forget last night," Nick said. "We haven't fucked since I went on tour."

"No?"

"That whole, long time," Nick said. "You've been wanting me. You know I've been wanting you. But I was on tour, far away. And then you were on tour, and we were separated, and you still kept wanting me. And wanting me. And wanting me."

"Yes."

"And we saw each other."

"In New York."

"In New York," Nick agreed. "And in L.A., Lance, you remember seeing me in L.A.?"

"Yes." Yes. Oh...

Nick massaged Lance's balls through his underwear. "Couldn't do a thing, could we?"

"No." Except stare. And want. And long. He'd yearned. Lance had never yearned in his life, but he'd yearned for Nick.

"You knew I wanted you."

"Yes."

"You felt me wanting you."

"Yes." Lance's toes curled; his thighs ached; he grabbed Nick's shoulder with one hand, clutching at Nick's T-shirt. His eyes closed, shutting out the sight of Nick's desire, and his head tipped back, exposing his voicebox.

"Want me to lick that for you?"

"Yes." Yes.

"Been a long time."

"Yes." Too long. Too freaking long.

"Go to bed, Lance."

His hips jacked into Nick's caressing hand.

"Go to sleep, Lance."

Oh, oh...

"Have wet dreams about me."

No! No, no! Lance's eyes snapped open as Nick betrayed him. The hand was gone. He was left thrusting into the air, close to fulfillment, body seeking that final touch that would send him through ecstasy.

"Go to bed," Nick urged. "I have stuff to do. I'll come back later." Nick kissed him.

Lance pulled Nick back to his mouth, in search of Nick's kiss, Nick's mouth, Nick's tongue. He rocked his hips up against Nick's, hoping for enough friction to get release. Nick's hand came beneath his robe, beneath his shirt, up his naked back. Nick hadn't touched him in what felt like years. Lance loved his job, but sometimes, its consequences just sucked.

"Want me," Nick panted, running greedy hands over his body, blue eyes dark.

"Yes," he said, voice too breathy, cock too hard. He kissed Nick again, again, and again.

Peter. What kind of name was Peter? It was a cat, not a disciple. Young, full of itself. Wanting love but too proud to show it. Preening for attention. It was lovely, sleek, and dark, with frightening, direct, knowing eyes. It looked at him, looked through him, made its judgments, and continued on with its life.

Chris ignored the cat for the first few days. Then he found himself watching it, stopping to admire it, curious about its habits. It bestowed its attention on Flick, allowing itself to be sought and petted. Peter dismissed Chris with a flick of that mysterious tail, not deeming him worthy.

Chris resented the cat at first. This was his house, and he was in charge, and he was not catering to a cat he didn't even want.

But it was attractive. Intelligent. Well-bred. Superior. He wanted it to like him.

He started to supply its food and water, clean its box.

Peter's tail swished against Chris's ankles in a gesture of acknowledgment.

He bought it toys.

Peter walked over his feet, rubbing against him almost as though unaware of his presence.

"Dude, he likes you."

Chris shouldn't feel smug.

Was Peter fickle? A week later, it was clear that Chris was the favored one. Flick's presence was tolerated, because Peter was gracious enough to remember old kindnesses. (Peter was proud, yes, but not rude.) Not only did he accept Chris's attention, he sought it. He followed Chris from room to room, sometimes without shame, sometimes as though merely wandering through, ever so casually, and happening to chance upon whichever room Chris was inhabiting. He rubbed against Chris's ankles, investigated Chris's activities, jumped onto Chris's lap, and let himself be petted and loved. He even slept with Chris, and went so far as to let Chris play with him and tease him. Chris took liberties with Peter, who tolerated the antics and forgave the idiocies.

Chris, for his part, liked Peter. Peter was beautiful and knowing and proud. Soft, very soft.

He'd missed having someone to tease. Someone to pet. Someone sleek and pretty who loved him.

Even if it was a cat, and not a human.

Chris would take what he could get.

Which, yeah, only proved how desperate he was.

He should have given Peter to Flick. He shouldn't have kept Peter. He'd had time to get over it; he should move on. Get a life, not get a cat.

But when that sleek, proud beauty met his eyes, he fell under its spell.

It was a familiar feeling.

"Hey, dude! Your friends are here."

Chris turned on the dishwasher and rubbed his hands on his jeans. "Hey, Joey. Justin." Quick hugs and handshakes.

"Want to go put the SYN in *NSYNC?" Justin asked.

"He's been waiting to say that all night," Joey said to Chris. "He has to say it now while it's just the three of us. We're going to meet Lance at some club. Want to come?"

"Chick might be there," Justin said.

"Hey, Peter," Joey said. "Whatcha doing?"

Peter consented to be scratched, then walked around Justin and rubbed against Chris's ankles.

"Still likes you best," Joey said, and sighed.

"I feed him," Chris said. "Let me go get changed. Or can I wear this?"

"No class, no pass," Justin said.

"This has class," Chris protested, smoothing the front of his ratty gray T-shirt.

"Your socks don't match," Justin said.

"Why would they?" Chris asked.

"Go get changed," Joey said, pushing Chris towards the doorway.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Chris said. "You're seen with JC in public all of the time."

The club was one of those big hyped places with strobe lights and crowds of pretty young people. Chris followed Justin through the mass, holding Joey's hand so as not to get lost. They found Lance in a booth, sitting across the table from Nick.

"Damn," Joey muttered by Chris's ear. "He brought Pick."

"Hey," Lance said, rising and passing quick embraces. "I didn't know you were coming," he told Chris.

"He's little, he can crowd in with us," Joey said.

"If we run out of room, we can kick out somebody," Justin said, naming no names, smiling brightly nowhere near Nick.

"It's just that some people might be joining us," Lance said.

"Pretty girls?" Justin asked.

"French mimes?" Joey guessed.

Lance coughed into his fist.

Joey glanced over one shoulder.

Justin's eyes narrowed. "Latin princes."

Chris didn't want to turn. Didn't want to look. He turned. He looked. He saw Howie and AJ, strolling through the club, in his direction. They were oblivious to him, blind to all stares, superior to all attention.

Despite being in a dark club, AJ wore dark sunglasses with his layered clothing and silver jewelry. His black bandanna covered his receding hairline.

Chris remembered running careful fingers along the edge of AJ's widow's peak.

Howie's hair was long again, and straight. He wore a bandanna, too, rolled into a strip tied around his head, most of it hiding under his hair. His goatee was trimmer than Chris recalled.

AJ walked right behind Howie, but could have been miles away for all the attention they paid each other.

Nick stood from the booth. "Hey."

"Hey," Howie said, glancing around the group. "Little convention here."

"How's the fish been treating you?" AJ asked.

"His name is Lance," Nick said. "You want to sit or what?"

"Think I want something to drink. You want anything?" AJ neither touched nor glanced at Howie, but AJ was asking him in particular, and he said, "No, thanks," without looking. AJ nodded and strode off again.

"Didn't know they were all coming," Nick told Howie, sliding into the booth. Howie sat across from him, flipping dark hair over one shoulder. They could have been alone in the world for all the notice anyone else got.

"You didn't tell me they were coming," Joey whispered to Lance.

"I didn't know you were bringing Chris," Lance whispered back.

"We're not staying," Justin whispered.

"You're not leaving me here alone with them," Lance said.

"You're not three years old," Joey said. "Tell Nick you're going home."

"Come with us," Justin invited. "We can go somewhere else."

"Without them," Joey added.

"Without them," Justin agreed.

Lance looked left. Justin and Joey followed his line of sight.

Chris was watching Howie. He held still and quiet, so as not to be noticed, observing each glance and gesture.

"Chris," Justin said.

"We're going out," Joey said. "You want to come?"

"No," Chris said, eyes sliding back towards Howie. "I got all dressed up. Can't leave now."

"You can show it off somewhere else," Joey said.

"This place is too...crowded," Lance said.

"You guys go ahead," Chris said.

"We're your ride home," Justin said.

"I'll get a cab."

"AJ's coming," Joey warned them, watching the crowd.

"I'm not staying here," Justin said. "Chris, come on."

"No," Chris said.

Justin looked to Joey for help. Joey shrugged. They couldn't force Chris to leave. "Okay," Justin said. "Give me a call when you get in."

"I'll stay," Lance said.

"Good luck," Joey said, and left with Justin.

Nick noticed that Joey and Justin were leaving. "You staying?" he asked Lance.

"Yeah," Lance said.

Nick stood and Lance slid into the booth. Nick followed him. Then AJ came through and sat on Nick's other side.

Uninvited, Chris slid in beside Howie, leaving distance between their bodies. Lance gave him an encouraging smile. Nick glanced at him without interest.

AJ was up and down through the night, dancing through the crowd, coming back for a drink, sweat sliding down his sideburns. Howie and Nick carried most of the conversation, assisted by Lance. AJ didn't care for Lance, but Howie was indifferent. Lance was an affront to AJ, whereas for Howie, Lance wasn't important enough to matter one way or the other.

Lance tried to include Chris in the conversation, but Chris's natural spirit was diminished. He sat quietly, toying with napkins, listening. Watching, half of the time. Unable to look, through the other half.

It was hard to see them again.

It was hard to keep from staring, drinking in each gesture, absorbing each moment.

Howie and AJ had little, if anything, to do with each other. The tension between them was almost frightening. It was disturbing, without question. Especially to Chris, who knew what they were to each other.

When Chris got home, he called Justin as requested. Peter submitted to gentle affection. Latin princes. That hadn't been bad. Chris locked Peter out of the bathroom and masturbated.

He remembered Justin asking him, afterward, how he had that much love for someone who only loved himself. Chris loved AJ and Howie. AJ loved AJ. Howie loved Howie.

It hadn't been like that. It hadn't been like that at all.

How had it been?

Oh, it had been...

The happiest time of Chris's life.

No less than that.

Never less than that.

While Chris drove, Peter tried to hide beneath the passenger seat. Upon reaching Nick's house, Chris was treated to wary looks, but in the end Peter consented to be petted, and let Chris carry him up the walk.

Nick opened the door. "Hi."

"Hi. Peter, Nick," Chris introduced. "Where did you get this cat?"

"From a friend."

"You don't have friends."

Nick closed the door in his face.

Chris opened the door before Nick could lock it. "Lance! Lance!"

"Shut up," Nick said. "He's not here."

"I'm right here," Lance said, coming up behind Nick. "Hey, Chris. You brought Peter?"

"Lance, where did he get this cat?"

"He didn't tell me," Lance said, scratching Peter's ears.

"Find out for me."

"It's none of my business," Lance said.

"Your girlfriend-"

"Boyfriend," Lance corrected automatically.

"Lover," Nick corrected just as quickly, glaring at Chris.

"-gave me a cat," Chris said. "He didn't give you a cat."

"I give him something better to pet," Nick said.

"Nick," Lance said. "May we have a second?"

"This is my house."

"Big boy," Chris approved. "Maybe next Mommy will let you tie your own shoes."

"Chris," Lance said.

Chris shifted Peter and kept quiet. Nick walked away without another word. Lance pulled Peter's tail.

"I don't know where the cat came from originally," Lance said. "Where Nick got it."

"It's a substitute."

"I know."

"That's sick."

"Whoever gave you Peter wanted you to be happy. Wanted to give you back a little of what you were missing."

"It's not enough. I love Peter, but it can't be enough. Cats are not the same as people."

"Some cats are better than some people," Lance said.

"You could trade in Nick for one."

"Never."

"Find out where Nick got Peter."

"That's not fair. I can't ask him to choose between a confidence and me."

"Lance, you can ask him to do anything you want. He'll do it. He'll sulk and sneer first, but he'll do it."

"Nick doesn't sneer."

"He does sulk."

"I know. I like it."

"You say it's not about sex, but I can't think of anything else between you."

"Love."

"How can you be in love with him?"

"He's Nick."

"It's up to you. If you want to spend the best years of your life with a long-legged two-year-old, that's up to you. I won't stop you."

"Thank you. I'll ask Nick about Peter."

Nick was slumped on the sofa, watching TV, letting his brain atrophy.

Lance crouched behind the sofa, crossing his arms at the top of the sofa's back, resting his chin there. "Having fun?"

Nick grunted.

"Where'd you get Peter?"

"Somebody gave him to me."

"To give to Chris, specifically."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Figured he could use a friend."

"Out of concern, or to rub his face in it?"

"The first one."

"Was it AJ or Howie?"

"Yeah."

"Yes?"

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

"I don't remember."

"Nick."

"It was AJ or Howie. One of those." Without looking away from the TV, Nick reached back and tickled Lance behind one earlobe. Lance laughed and squirmed away; Nick grinned.

Chris was barely through the front door when Flick attacked him. "Dude! Dude! Your ex, dude, he was right outside, he was standing in the fucking driveway!"

"When?" Chris felt tense. Peter jumped down and ran.

"Ten minutes ago at the fucking most, dude! What did he want? Checking up on you? Knows you're back in town?"

"Who was it?"

"How many exes do you got, dude? Oh, duh." Flick laughed. "Dude. The bald one who ain't got the time of day."

AJ. Had been here. Ten minutes ago. "Did he come to the door?" Chris's temples hurt.

"Stood in the driveway. Looked around. I don't do men, but that cat has sex appeal."

Cat? Oh. Yes. Chris knew that all too well. "He looked good?"

"He looked like he always does, dude. He looked good but he wasn't sharing."

AJ had been here. He'd never expected that.

Peter blinked and rubbed into Chris's hand.

"AJ was here, Peter. Do you know AJ?"

Peter's tail twitched.

"Do you know AJ? Three words: sunglasses, hat, attitude. If you were a girl, you would have been in heat. You might have been anyway. Do you know AJ? He's hard to forget."

Peter wasn't sharing.

"Do you know Howie? Have you met Howie? You would've rolled on your back and begged him to scratch your tummy, just like I did. He's nice to pet, like you are. Soft hair. They're beautiful and sleek. Good to pet. Have to watch out for those claws, though. They're the centers of their own universes, just like you are. And you want to be the center of my universe, don't you? Don't you?" Chris asked, scratching Peter's chin. "Sorry, kitty cat. I love you, but my world revolves around two other dark felines."

Chris stared at Lance.

Lance offered a supportive smile.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be true. Not really. He'd hoped, he'd wished, he'd fantasized. But Peter couldn't have come from...from one of them.

"I don't know which one," Lance said.

"Is your girlfriend around here anywhere?"

"Boyfriend," Lance corrected. "He should be here in a few minutes."

"You mean he should have been here ten minutes ago." Chris was familiar with Nick's sense of time.

"Five minutes ago," Lance said with a smile.

"You have a date?" Chris asked in a sickly-sweet tone.

"Hanging out here. He was meeting Brian and Howie for lunch."

Right on cue, they heard the front door. "Hold on, I'll get it," Nick's voice said. Footsteps; Nick strode down the hallway. "Hey." He kissed Lance, cupping one elbow. "My bag in your room?"

"Which one?" Lance asked.

"The blue one."

"Foot of the bed," Lance said.

Nick disappeared.

"You want to stay, or take off?" Lance asked.

"I'll leave you alone with your-"

"Boyfriend," Lance said.

"Right. Her."

"Chris, I saw you checking out his-"

Chris coughed.

Lance smiled.

"I was not," Chris said.

Lance nodded. "Okay."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I know."

"It wasn't bad, though."

Lance grinned. "I know."

Chris laughed. "See you later. Try not to strain anything." He headed for the front door. There was a chance that Brian was out here. Or someone else. Or...

Howie.

Their eyes met.

"Chris," Howie said.

Howie was between him and the door. Only a few feet. He could make it. Maybe if he sprinted.

"You look good."

The tour. He'd lost weight. Not that Howie cared. And AJ, AJ had liked his extra layer of pudge. Had nibbled it with sharp, white teeth. He hadn't known what a disturbed person he was until he'd realized that he liked having AJ McLean nip at his thighs.

"You were quiet the other night."

At the club. He hadn't even thought that Howie had noticed he was there.

Howie was kissing him. Just like that. Without warning, without permission. Soft lips, wet tongue. A hand on his spine. "I've missed you," Howie said, and kissed him again.

It had been a year and a half. A year and a half. And Howie was kissing him once more. It felt. So. Good.

He wanted to go home with Howie, right there and then, and make love.

He jerked back, finding his balance, breaking away from the kiss, the embrace. No. It was over, it was gone.

Howie let him run.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't know Howie was coming by, Nick didn't know you'd be here-"

"He kissed me."

"What?"

Chris shifted on Lance's sofa, pulling his foot up onto the cushion with him. "Howie kissed me on my way out."

"Chris."

"Felt good."

"Chris."

"Think I'm going to kill him."

"He was showing you to the door and your mouths met by accident?"

"I guess. Maybe he's catching up on a good-bye kiss he forgot to give me a year and a half ago."

"You let him kiss you?"

"Look who's talking. I've seen who you're taking to bed."

"Howie broke up with you, kicked you out of his house, and disappeared."

"He had to go on tour."

"Chris-"

"And he didn't kick me out. He kicked AJ out. I left on my own."

"Good for you."

"Do you have a side of the bed?"

"What?"

"Do you always take one side and Lick takes the other side, or doesn't it matter?"

"His name is Nick, and he sleeps to my left. Whether we're here or at his house."

"AJ couldn't sleep in the middle. He always had to move to the outside, either side. Howie and I took turns sleeping in the middle. It had its pros and its cons."

"How did you have enough room?"

"We cuddled. Turn up the air conditioning, throw off the blankets, because we slept all tangled together and it could get hot."

"Chris... Why did AJ and Howie start fighting?"

"They're too much alike. They're too different. They spent too much time together. I saw it coming."

"You didn't know."

"I knew they were getting on each other's nerves. I knew they were on edge."

"You didn't know how bad it would get."

"I should have picked a side."

"No."

"I should have stayed with Howie."

"Chris, you couldn't."

"It should have been an easy decision. By then."

"You loved them both."

"Still do."

"I can't believe they went on tour. Nick says it was hell."

Chris could imagine.

Flick startled Peter, grabbing Chris's shoulders. "Dude. Dude. Dude."

"What?" Chris asked, staring up at his friend. "What? What?"

"Your ex, dude, he's outside, he just, he's here, dude. Dude. You're wearing that? You get no sausage dressed like that."

Get no - - gross! Well, no, not gross. Chris wouldn't mind - - "Now?"

"Dude, that's what I'm saying." The doorbell chimed. "I'll entertain your suitor in the parlor. You find something else to wear." Flick shoved him on his way.

Chris was not going to change clothes just because Howie was here.

Okay, he'd change. But he was not dressing up.

He'd try to look good. But not too good.

Then he saw his black slacks. The ones AJ had always liked. The ones that made AJ's hands rub over his ass, rub - - Howie wouldn't remember that.

He put them on anyway. Remembered AJ's quick grasp. Remembered - -

Remembered that Howie was downstairs, waiting. He tugged on a red T-shirt and ran down to the first floor.

Flick was in the front room.

With AJ.

AJ.

Flick, the idiot, left them alone.

He was alone. With AJ.

"Not the same without you," AJ said.

"What isn't?"

"Everything." AJ walked around him in a tight circle.

"How was the tour?"

"It got better."

"When?"

"After Howie and I," AJ's eyes drifted down Chris's body, "had a little talk."

Chris reminded himself that he was not afraid of AJ. No matter that he'd seen AJ pull a knife on their lover.

"I hear he kissed you yesterday."

How did AJ know about that?

"I hear you still like sweet tongue."

"Who told you?"

"Howie. Called me up last night. Said you tasted good, Chris."

What were they doing?

AJ kissed him.

He didn't know why people kept doing this. He was not the type of person people grabbed and kissed. He hadn't swapped spit with either of these men in over a year and a half. Yet they kept walking right in and licking his tonsils. Was there some sign on his forehead?

And now with the groping. He hadn't had his ass grabbed like this since JC got drunk in Madrid. And AJ, AJ's hard-on was happy to be against his hip. The skinny boy's pelvis was grinding against him like-

He remembered this. One hand kneading his ass, AJ getting excited in his arms, quick tongue fucking between his teeth. Any second now, AJ would-

"Are we going upstairs or do you want to do me on the floor?" AJ asked.

It was an actual question. He remembered that, too. When AJ mated, it didn't matter where. Only how hard, how good, and how long.

He hadn't had AJ in over a year and a half.

He hadn't had anybody in over a year and a half.

AJ was right here, kissing him, one hand at his nape, wanting him. Ready and waiting and available.

There was sex, and then there was love. There was pride, and then there was self-respect.

Chris could deal with the consequences tomorrow. He was about to have AJ back in his bed.

AJ went for the quick tumble, then relaxed afterwards with teasing and caressing. Howie liked foreplay, then tended to fall asleep after sex. Making love with both of them at once was exhausting for Chris, but rewarding.

True to form, AJ went through two fierce orgasms, then got cosy in Chris's arms, licking and stroking any available skin.

"Did you come over here for sex?" Chris asked.

"I came over here for you," AJ said, displeased with the question but still sucking his way down Chris's chest.

"Are you staying?"

"I can."

"What about Howie?"

"Fuck him," AJ said, and licked Chris's right nipple.

Pros and cons. Weigh the pros and cons.

He'd just gotten laid. That was a pro.

AJ was a pro.

Professional.

Back on track. Pros and cons. Pros. He'd had sex. With AJ. It had been good. That went without saying, which was a huge pro.

Cons. What the fuck?

AJ showed up out of nowhere. Had sex. Left.

Had Flick started running a personal business in Chris's house?

Howie had called AJ. Said something along the lines of, "I frenched Chris." Why, Chris had no idea.

AJ and Howie had talked. At some point during the tour. About something.

Had Howie called AJ to gloat? To laugh? Was Chris a trophy or a joke between them?

"This is Lance."

"I need you to explain the Backstreet Boys to me."

"Hi, Chris."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"How can I put this politely? You have a distinctive voice."

"So do you."

"So I've heard." Lance tracked Nick's progress down the hallway.

"Explain the Backstreet Boys to me."

"They cannot be explained. Only marvelled at."

"You're living with one."

"We're not living together."

"You're sleeping with one. And don't tell me you don't sleep, either, because I don't want to hear it."

"You were living with two of them."

"Rub it in."

"Chris, what do you want?"

"Let me talk to the blond girl."

"Do you mean Nick?"

"Yeah, her."

"Him."

"That's what I said."

Lance sighed and lowered the phone. "Nick, will you please talk to Chris?"

"No," Nick called.

Lance went back to Chris. "He's busy. May I take a message?"

"I had sex with AJ."

Lance thought about that news.

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday," Lance repeated.

"Am I sexually irresistible?"

"No. Sorry."

"I didn't think so, either. Why can't they keep their tongues off of me?"

"I do not understand AJ or Howie."

"That's because you're a mere mortal."

"As opposed to?"

"A Backstreet Boy."

"I see your point." Nick came back in Lance's direction. He put his hand down at thigh level, then raised his hands and made devil's horns. Lance nodded; yes, it was Chris. Nick rolled his eyes and flipped Chris off. Lance gave Nick the "I'm not putting up with that" look. Nick tickled Lance behind the ear. Lance grabbed Nick's hand and twisted away. "Do you want to talk to Nick?"

"I don't know," Chris said. "Has he advanced to a three-year-old's vocabulary yet?"

"Be nice."

"Or?"

"I'll tell him you were checking out his-"

"No no no no no no no no no no-"

Lance handed Nick the phone.

"Stop shrieking in my ear," Nick said.

"Hi, Tick."

"Can we make this quick so I can get back to corrupting your best friend?"

"He's too smart, too good, too nice, too talented, too intelligent, too good-looking, and did I mention he's too good for you?"

"No, this is Nick Carter. Joey's on the other line."

"Why am I talking to you?"

"I'm supposed to know?" Nick balanced on one foot and ran his naked toes up Lance's calf.

"Give the phone back to Lance."

"Sorry. He's busy now." Nick hung up. "You're sure he's not senile?"

"I'm sure," Lance said. "Pretty sure."

Chris used to live here. Not officially, because what would the press think? But for months, he'd lived here. AJ had, too.

Until Howie threw AJ out.

And Chris couldn't stay. It would be like taking sides, and he couldn't take sides. He should have taken sides. By that point, after seeing AJ wield that blade - - it still made him sick to his stomach. Just to think of it.

He should have taken Howie's side. But he couldn't take sides, couldn't align himself with either one of them. He loved them both. So he'd left Howie's home. And the Backstreet Boys had gone on tour. Then *NSYNC went on tour.

And now, here he was again. He didn't have a key anymore. He'd given it back to Howie.

After Howie threw AJ's key-

Chris closed his eyes and waited for the memory to pass.

What they'd done to each other wasn't half as bad as what they'd said to each other. AJ was inside Howie's mind, Howie was inside AJ's mind, and they could torture, haunt, and wound each other without mercy. They had.

Chris pressed the doorbell.

Chris stared at the ceiling and tried to stop sweating. It was official. There was a sign on his forehead. Blinking neon. "Get sex here!" "For a good time, lick this man."

He sat up, rolling his shoulders, plucking a stray long, dark hair from his chest. Howie tended to shed during sex.

He looked at Howie's naked back. Wondered what to say. Maybe something along the lines of, "Hi, I'm in love with you, remember me? The one who used to be a human being?" He still didn't know what was happening. Whether he was a former lover or a potential boyfriend or a Backstreet Boy groupie.

He used to know. He used to be Howie's lover. Howie's boyfriend. AJ's lover. AJ's boyfriend. Their significant other.

He didn't feel significant anymore.

He slid off of the bed and gathered his clothes.

AJ slid his sunglasses down his nose.

Lance raised an eyebrow.

AJ pushed his sunglasses back up.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest.

AJ looked bored, disgusted, and impatient.

Lance looked unimpressed.

Nick walked up behind Lance. "Hey," he said, tossing AJ a smile. "Come on in." He slid an arm around Lance's waist, pulling Lance back against his chest and, at the same time, out of the doorway. "What's up?"

AJ gave a minute snort in Lance's direction before entering the house. "Get another butler."

Lance stifled the urge to say something rude. Some people had been reared with manners. Nick kissed his cheek and released him, closing the door.

"Is Howie here?" AJ asked.

"Yeah," Nick said.

AJ nodded and walked away.

Lance stared after AJ. Let his jaw drop. "Here, let us show you the way."

"They have to meet on neutral territory," Nick said. "With witnesses."

"What?"

"I'd better go play back-up."

"I'd better go call the police," Lance said.

"Do me a favor," Nick said. "Go upstairs."

"Go upstairs," Lance repeated. "So they can shed blood in private?"

"This is private," Nick said.

Lance studied Nick's face. Nick shared anything and everything with him, except what was personal to the Backstreet Boys. He was privy to a lot of that information, too. But if Nick chose to keep something from him, on those rare occasions, he respected Nick's right to do so. "Okay. You're bigger than they are. Let them tear each other apart if that's what they want, but take care of yourself." He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Nick's lips.

Nick watched Lance go upstairs, then went to supervise the meeting.

AJ was walking in tight circles around Howie. Howie was alone in the room. It was the weirdest thing to see them together. Nick still couldn't get used to it. Didn't want to get used to it.

Chris slid AJ's sunglasses down his nose. "Hello."

"Hi," AJ said.

Chris pushed AJ's sunglasses up again. "You can come in, but you can't have sex."

"Okay," AJ said.

"Okay, you can have sex, but next time I won't give in like this," Chris said.

"Okay," AJ said, kissing him and closing the door.

"They can't be in the same room together?" Lance asked.

"Not alone," Nick said. "I thought you were working."

"Explain this to me."

"You should work instead."

Lance sat on the armchair and waited.

Nick sighed and scratched his head. "They can't be alone together. If they end up in the same room together, one of them has to leave, and they can't talk to each other. If somebody else is there, it has to be somebody who counts. Not just the water boy or something."

"Someone who counts?" Lance asked. "In their estimation of the world, that really cuts down the population."

"They can talk on the phone. Once a day, five minutes, maximum."

"Who made up these rules?"

"They did."

"What does this have to do with Chris?"

"They're not giving him up. AJ won't, and Howie won't. They love him."

"A dubious honor."

"They talk about him. Out of nowhere, AJ will say something about the way Chris smells after sex, and five minutes later, out of nowhere, like he didn't even hear AJ, Howie will say something about having heard you guys on the radio the other day. Try having a conversation when they're doing that."

Lance didn't think that he wanted to understand AJ or Howie.

"They're in love with Chris. God knows why. They've agreed to share him, I guess. They're both doing him, they both want to date him and stuff."

"Separately."

"Right."

"Chris counts?"

"Oh, yeah."

"They could be in a room together, alone, with him?"

"I guess so."

Lance thought about that.

"Might not be good for his mental health," Nick observed.

"It's Chris," Lance said.

Nick laughed.

Chris used to live with Howie and AJ.

Now he lived with Peter and Flick.

On Monday, AJ came over.

On Tuesday, Howie took him to lunch.

On Wednesday, AJ took him clubbing.

On Thursday, he spent all afternoon in Howie's bed.

On Friday, AJ took him to Kevin's party. Howie did not attend.

If Chris had any more sex, his balls would explode. He was sure of it.

He couldn't get AJ to talk about Howie, or vice versa. And he hadn't said "I love you" to either one of them, but every time he made love, he told his partner that he was in love with the other one. He didn't know why he did that.

It didn't seem to insult them. It didn't even seem to matter.

Maybe that was why he kept doing it. He wanted it to matter. He wanted Howie to care that he was in love with AJ. He wanted AJ to care that he loved Howie.

He wanted them to love each other.

What was he fighting for? They already did.

Two weeks later, AJ and Howie had called Nick to say they were coming over. He warned Lance. Lance called Chris.

"You what?"

"Invited Chris over," Lance said, tying his shoes.

"To my house."

"Yes."

"To see AJ and Howie."

"Yes."

"And now you're leaving?"

"Oh, yes," Lance said. He stood and kissed Nick's cheek. "Have a good day. Remember to duck."

The doorbell rang.

AJ growled. Howie adjusted an earring.

"Hold on," Nick said. He'd planned to tell Chris something rude. However... "He's in the front room," Nick said with a vague gesture. "Make it quick."

Chris gave him the fakest polite smile possible, then went off to find Lance.

Chris stopped in the doorway.

AJ turned.

"Chris," Howie said.

"You're not Lance," Chris said, and stepped back into the hallway. He re-entered the room. "You're not Lance."

"Thank god," AJ muttered.

"This is where you were going?" Chris asked AJ. "You had an appointment to keep."

"Make him shower next time," Howie told Chris. "He still smells like you."

"Oh." Chris sniffed his forearm. "Do I smell like him?"

Howie walked closer, leaned in, nuzzled Chris's neck. "Yes," he murmured, and kissed Chris's shoulder.

"I take it that isn't a big turn-off," Chris said. "Howie, not in this house."

"Excuse me," AJ said sharply. "You got him yesterday and tomorrow. This is my day."

Howie's kiss found Chris's mouth.

"Get the fuck off of him!" AJ shouted.

Nick peeked in just to make sure they were all right. AJ and Howie weren't allowed to touch each other, but they'd been known to throw things.

Howie went down on his knees.

"God, I hope Lance isn't here," Chris said. Howie opened Chris's jeans. "Do we have to do this in public?"

"You smell like him," Howie murmured. "I can smell his sex."

"I was going to take a shower, I really was," Chris said. He sucked in his breath. "Oh."

"Howie!" AJ shouted.

"Gonna pass out," Chris whispered, clutching at the sofa arm.

Howie licked Chris's balls.

"You want to smell my sex?" AJ demanded. "You want to smell his sex? He came on me."

"Oh, yeah," Chris said. "That was good. Ooohhh...getting dizzy..."

AJ dropped his pants. "Suck that, Dorough."

Chris shuddered.

Howie turned with graceful pride and crawled to AJ.

Chris wanted to beg Howie to come back, but wasn't sure it was good manners to ask for a blowjob in somebody else's house. He felt funny standing there with it all hanging out, so he cupped his hard-on in one hand, trying not to milk it.

Howie sniffed up AJ's thighs. Licked the air around AJ's pubic hair. Came within millimeters of physical contact.

"Do I smell like him?" AJ asked. He rubbed his fingers in his groin, then held them out to Howie.

Howie licked his teeth.

"You know why we smell like each other? I came over early. Last night. Broke the rules. Showed up after you left. We fucked. I spent the night. Remember what it's like spending the night with Chris? When he woke up, we fucked again. When's the last time you spent the night with somebody? You like sleeping with him? You like waking up with him? Unh-unh, you get the fuck out of there. No touching."

Howie licked his lips uncertainly, eyeing AJ's groin. He watched AJ's cock lengthen and fill.

"It's still my day with Chris," AJ said. "Maybe I'll take him home with me. To bed. Maybe I'll keep him there all night. If you want him, you have to come and get him."

Howie licked the head of AJ's cock.

"Chris loves me," AJ said.

"Chris loves me," Howie said, and licked AJ's thigh.

"I know, Howie." AJ slid his hand through Howie's hair, urging Howie closer. Howie's mouth opened for his erection.

When Lance came through the front door, Nick took his elbow and ushered him right out again. "Next time you get some brilliant idea, make sure it happens at your house," Nick said.

"What happened?" Lance asked.

"They had sex in my living room."

"They what?"

"They had sex in my living room," Nick repeated. "You drive. I still feel sick."

"Their cars are still here."

"They're still here."

"Still?"

"I'm going to have to fumigate that room," Nick said. "Or move."

matthew@matthewtime.com
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