Alla
Copyright December 27, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kevin Richardson/Nick Carter, Nick Carter/Brian Littrell (sort of), Kevin Richardson/Brian Littrell (implied)
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor, the Savage Garden slashers, David, Whitney, and Brian's earlobes.
Wherein the reader will find a slashfic of Kevin-the-dirty-photographer-of-Nick-and-Brian to satisfy one person; a BSB slashfic starring Kevin to satisfy someone else; and a Brian/Nick slashfic to satisfy a third person. As a result, most likely no one will be satisfied. Let this be a lesson to you.
Notice: David's fault. Again.
"It's a hobby," Kevin said.
"I just take candids, behind the scenes shots, that sort of thing."
He flashed a smile to distract her attention while his right hand ran over
Nick's ass.
He learned how to develop film. Kevin liked to know how to do things, and to do them well. There was nothing sinister about it. It was just one more useful skill.
He noticed that he'd been taking more pictures of Nick and Brian than of AJ and Howie. They were all attractive people, but Nick seemed awfully photogenic. And Brian's facial structure was interesting and easy to capture on film.
Nick and Brian spent a lot of time together, so Kevin took photographs of them together. Playing basketball: sweaty, guarding closely, jumping for the ball at the same time. Singing: standing close, looking into each other's eyes, smiling. Resting: sleeping curled up together; back-to-back or, on occasion spooned; cosy and cute. Changing for real photo shoots or for a performance.
They were always touching each other. Leaning against each other, sitting close together, playing with each other's hair.
Kevin saved his photographs. He sorted them into albums, separating out some for a special album in his growing collection. When he had that special album carefully organized, he took it to Nick.
Nick was curious to see the photographs, interested in checking out what Kevin had been doing all of this time. He began to flip through the pages.
He went from interested to puzzled to incredulous to disbelieving.
Kevin plainly stated his case. He had originals and negatives. He could leak any set of photographs at any time. They weren't proof of anything, but with the right spin they were damning. He'd keep everything to himself...for a price.
Shaken, shocked, Nick protested,
argued, denied, begged, threatened, and caved.
Kevin snapped shots of Brian, too. A few of those he sent home. The ones of his cousin undressing backstage, he gave to Nick.
Then he jerked Nick off while
Nick looked at them.
Nick was stressed out, trying to keep Brian from finding out about the nature of Kevin's photography hobby and his real relationship with Kevin. He was torn between the temptations and twisted indulgences of Kevin, and the sweet but uncertain love of Brian. He knew that Kevin would give him sex. He knew that Brian would give him love...but to what extent? And would that love end if Brian knew that he was with Kevin for impure reasons?
With Kevin, Nick could, finally,
admit to wanting Brian.
He reached hesitantly. The glossy photographs slid in his grasp.
Brian. That familiar, warm, open smile. Talking to the camera. Gesturing, talking to someone else. Pulling off his shirt. Standing there, bare-chested. Sliding his belt free of the loops. Holding his belt in two hands. Undoing his fly.
"What do you think he's going to do with that belt?" Kevin asked.
Nick's heart skipped a beat. Kevin's sure hand slid up his thigh, between his legs, where he was already hard.
"Do you want him to use it on you?" Kevin asked.
No. Brian wouldn't. Brian didn't. Brian... Nick gasped, thighs spreading.
"Do you want him to tease you with it?" Kevin asked. "Or to whip you with it?"
Nick moaned, arching, dropping to his back. Kevin opened his jeans quickly, tugging down his underwear, reaching for his naked cock. With shaking fingers, Nick gasped and shuffled for the next photograph.
While Kevin sucked his cock, Nick stared at Brian, cute and happy, smiling at someone off-camera, wearing only white briefs. Moaning, hips lifting towards Kevin's touch, Kevin's mouth, Nick let his eyes trace the image until the pleasure built and the lines blurred. Still, he remembered it all: Brian, soft hair, blue eyes that actually twinkled, near-invisible freckles, friendly and inviting smile, tight round muscles, pale skin, shallow navel, white cotton hugging the pouch of genitals.
When he'd come in Kevin's
mouth, he rolled over and raised himself to his knees. Eyes closed,
head bowed, Nick let his body open for Kevin and thought of Brian.