Copyright January 24, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairing: Backstreet Boy One/Backstreet Boy Two

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, Bobby and Remy, and Secret Mistress.

Wherein SH wants Nick, KBaby wants Scott, and there's no way it's fifteen feet long.

---

Becky

Just thought I'd e-mail you so we can talk off of the board, away from the Little Teen Children.

You might be a LTC yourself.  Or an old retired Army general named Max.

That's the best thing about the Net.  You can be all that you can be.  You can be whoever you want to be.

I'd better send this now before I ramble off the deep end.

> You can be whoever you want to be.

Who do you want to be?

> > You can be whoever you want to be.

> Who do you want to be?

Myself.

Most of the time.

Let's not get deep and philosophic here.

No, really.  Who do you want to be?

I'm not an Army general named Max.  But I could be.  And you really wouldn't know.

I could be anybody.  You could be anybody.

Who do you want to be?

You can be yourself with me.  Or someone else.

Are you insane?

I'll call your Army base and tell them you're off your meds.

Or are you a bored housewife from Kansas?

I'm not a bored housewife from Kansas.  I'm not from Kansas, I don't get bored easily, and I'm neither a house nor a wife.

What was that you were babbling about on the board today?

It almost made sense at one point.

> What was that you were babbling about on the board today?

I was trying to get those Little Teen Children to stop arguing over that shit-assed nonsense and get back ON-TOPIC!!

Which will not happen, ever.  I realize that.

> It almost made sense at one point.

Guess your meds finally kicked in, hunh, Max?

If I'm Max, who are you?

Kyle?

> Kyle?

What?

Do you ever make sense?

Why am I writing to you?

Kyle.  I'm Max, you're Kyle.

"Roswell."  TV show.  Max.  Kyle.

KBaby.  K could stand for Kyle.

Hey, it could happen.

> Why am I writing to you?

I don't know.  Too much time on your hands, maybe?

I get it now.

Okay, I'll be Kyle.

Do your ears stick out, Max?

No.  My ears don't stick out, Kyle.  Thanks for asking.

And if they did, why would I tell a complete stranger my flaws when I don't have to?

-Max

1. I never said it was a flaw.

2. I'm not a complete stranger.

Didn't mean to offend you.

I agree with what you said on the board today.  When you told off Misha.  That girl needs to buy a brain.

Don't you dare tell her I said that.  Her 897 best friends will kick me off the board.

You're bitchy off of the board.  I like it.  Show that attitude some more and we can take over that place.

I won't let the Little Teen Children run you off.  We can stand up to them.

Your ears don't stick out.  Tell me something bad about yourself to make up for it.

Something bad about myself?

There's nothing bad to say.  I'm perfect.

What about you?

What about me?

My one and only flaw is that I spend my time e-mailing this complete idiot.

Other than that, I have no faults whatsoever.  I'm faultless.  It's unbelievable.

> It's unbelievable.

I'll go with that.

What's this complete idiot's name?

I think that he's a librarian.  His name's Shit-Head, I'm guessing.

He also goes by Max.

But if you say, "Hey, Idiot Boy!" he'll come running.

Kyle, boy, are you *trying* to get yourself kicked off of the board?

If you piss off one more person, I won't have anyone civilized to talk to on there.

Not that you're civilized.

But I like you.  Which is a lot more than I can say for those other people.

As long as you don't call me a shit-head.

What?  What did I do?

You called them Little Teen Children to their faces!

And you call me an idiot?

I know that they're cheap and shallow.  You know that they're cheap and shallow.  They don't know it, and telling them won't help anybody.

If you get kicked off of the board, who am I going to talk to?

They're a bunch of morons who only live to feed their own egos by getting other people to flatter them.

Death to them all.

> If you get kicked off of the board, who am I going to talk to?

Well, Max, there's always *Barbara*.

> They're a bunch of morons who only live to feed their own egos by getting other people to flatter them.

You noticed?

> Death to them all.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

> Well, Max, there's always *Barbara*.

Are you trying to give me nightmares?!

Kyle, that Barbara person is...what's the word...cloying.  She's cloying.

> She's cloying.

She wants you.

> She wants you.

I don't want her.

> I don't want her.

She could be a gorgeous buxom blonde.  Give it a chance.

I don't care if she's a gorgeous buxom blonde or not.  She could have the best body ever and I wouldn't care.

I'm gay.

You're gay?

Really?

Don't lie to me, Max.

I'm gay.  I'm gay I'm gay I'm gay.

I never told anybody before.

This is my first coming-out.  How'd I do?

You can just say it like that?  "I'm gay."  That's it?

Let me try.

Deep breath.

Hold on, give me a minute.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay!

I'm gay.

God.

Don't make me do that ever again.

Kyle.

It's okay.  You did a good job.  Calm down.  Deep breaths.  It's over now.  Relax.

Congratulations.  You're gay.  So am I.

You're out.  At least with me.  But even that's something to be proud of.

Max,

Is it okay if I want to give you my firstborn child?  Not that I'm having kids.  But you know what I mean.

I also want to hide from you and never write back to you and pretend that I never said...what I said.

You're not bitchy at all, are you?

You still doing okay?  It's a relief, for me, even to have one person know.

No, I'm not bitchy.  I'm pretty laid-back and friendly.  In real life.

I'm still trying to figure you out.  Sometimes you remind me of someone.

I should have known you were gay.  How many straight guys would be KBaby?

Don't be down on my screen name!

Yeah.  It's a relief for me, too.

Know any cute guys?

I  know lots of cute guys.  They're all straight.  I want to hit them.  Idiots.

So what does KBaby mean?  If you want to tell me.

They don't know what they're missing.

Namely, hot wild sex with me.

KBaby.  Kentucky Baby.  No, I'm not from Kentucky.  Don't ask.

I think that you meant to say that they're missing hot wild sex with *me*.

How can I not ask?  If you're not from Kentucky, what's the deal?

No, I meant hot wild sex with me.  Me.  Me.  Not you.

My middle name is Sex Appeal.  You have no idea.

> How can I not ask?  If you're not from Kentucky, what's the deal?

Okay, SH.  I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

Kentucky Sex Appeal Baby,

You first.

-SH

KBaby.  Kentucky Baby.  The guy I want most in all of the whole fucking world is from Kentucky.

I want him.  I want him.  I want him.

Who is he?  A friend?  An acquaintance?  A co-worker?  What's going on?

He's straight?  Taken?

Is it all about sex, or is there more?

Considering how hard it was for you to say you were gay to begin with, this guy must be pretty special for you to be this strong about telling me you want him.

My turn.  SH.  Shark High.

He's my best friend.  I want him.  You have no idea how badly I want him.

I think I'm in love with him.  I probably am.  It's just hard for me to sit down and think about having romantic feelings when all I want to do is get my hand in his pants.

He's straight.  The bastard.

Shark High?  What the fuck does that mean?  Is that your old high school or something?

I feel like a pointless "me, too" idiot.  I'm in love with my straight best friend, too.  He doesn't know I want him in my bed.  There's no good way to tell him.

Shark High...my best friend, he has this tattoo.

He has a tattoo of a shark?

Or of your old high school?

I have a shark on my arm.  Looks pretty damned cool.

Who's Nick?

I just had this weird thought that...maybe...

How many guys can have a shark tattooed on their arm?

Are you paranoid?

Who's Nick?  The guy?  The best friend whose tonsils you want to lick?

The same guy with the tattoo?

So he has a name...  Is he cute?

> Are you paranoid?

Sometimes I have to be.

Nick's my best friend.  I want to lick his tattoo.  Tonsils are good, too.

> Is he cute?

Kentucky Baby, cute is not the word.  The boy is flat-out gorgeous.

The man.  Sometimes I forget how old he's getting.

I've told you mine; you tell me yours.

You want to lick his tattoo?  Is this a fetish or something?

What's he like?  Tall, dark, and handsome?

Flat-out gorgeous.  Sounds good, SH.  Does he have a brother?

My best friend...what can I say?  He's hot but he doesn't know it, he's perfect but he doesn't know it, he's smarter than I am (not that that's hard), he's hilarious, he's so much fucking fun to be with.  You don't even know what he does for me.

And he's straight.  The bastard.

Yes, it's a fetish. I want to lick his tattoo.  He has more, and I want to lick all of them.  But that one most.  I don't know why.  I'm sick.

Tall, yes.  Handsome, yes.  Dark, no.  Blond.  Blond and blue-eyed.  He...god...you should see him in leather pants.  If I copped a feel, he'd hit me.  But sometimes I almost do it anyway.

Almost.

He's straight.  He's oblivious.

Does your Kentuckian have a name?

You're a sick bastard.  That's awesome.  Lick him.  Go ahead.

What's with the leather pants?  He fills them out nice?

In the front or the back, SH?  Go on, tell me.  I know you look.

His name's Scott.

Scott.  Scott.  Scott.  That's a nice name.  Good name.  I bet it sounds good when-

Shit.  Never mind.

Sorry.  Hormone high.

Don't encourage me to lick him!  I'll do it.  And then he'll hit me, and hate me, and mess up my entire life.

And don't ask me about the pants.  Or how he fills them out.  I haven't been able to drag my mind out of the gutter since you asked.

I've...hold on, looking around for witnesses...I've seen him naked.  The whole deal.  I've seen him putting on those leather pants.  Nobody could make them look better.  Nobody.

The front and the back.

Oh yeah.

(This is so embarrassing.)

Don't just leave me like that!  I was starting to get hard, I swear.

Don't be embarrassed.  What, I'm going to run and tell Barbara and Misha and the Little Teen Children?

I wish Scott wore leather.

And what was that?  It sounds good when what?  Tell me more!

I'll get you started.  Nick's got a nice ass?

Nick has a nice everything.  I've seen it all, and it's all good.

His butt has nice padding.  Makes me want to - - no, there's no way I'm going there.

He's got a nice...oh yeah.  Big.

Makes me drool.

It's not all about that.  He's my best friend.  I love him.  Nobody in the world means more to me.

That's why I can't do anything.  He means too much to me.  I can't risk losing him.

I'm tempted to go for it, I want to lean over and lick his tattoos, but I can't lose him.  I can't throw it all away, not even for that.

But I want him.  I want to lick his tattoos and suck on his dick and do anything else.  Everything else.

I bet he looks good when he comes.

I bet he looks *damned* good.

I was going to say that I'll bet Scott's name sounds good if you say it during sex.

I want Nick now.  See what you've made me do?

I think I want you, too.

You can lick my tattoos if you want.

Tell me more about Nick's big dick.  How big is big?

I say my Kentucky best friend's name when I masturbate.  I was so afraid he heard me one time.  But the man is clueless.  I think he has no brain.

> How big is big?

I'm sure he'd love it if he knew I was talking to people about this.

Well, maybe he would.  You never know with Nick.

Big is big.  Nice.  Full.  I'm trying to think of a word here.  I haven't gotten out a ruler and measured it.  I could ask him...

Yeah, right.

It's great because it's not just long.  It is long.  But it's also thick.  I know, I just know, that it looks *gorgeous* when it's hard.

Have you seen Scott's?

I want to suck his dick.

I bet he knows how long it is.  If it's as nice as you say, I know he's measured it.  Ask him.

Ask him!

> Have you seen Scott's?

Yeah.  I want it.  It hangs so straight and pretty.  It makes me want to do things to him.

Don't tell him you think it's pretty.

It sounds two inches long.

I am not asking Nick how long his is.

Tell me Scott has something between his legs, please.

It is pretty!

It's very pretty.  And no, it's not two inches.  It's not twenty-five inches long and ten wide, either.  Nobody needs that.

It's big enough I know it'd tear me open.

And sometimes, that's all I want.

Is it okay to say something like that?

I want him inside me.  And his pretty pretty dick is going to hurt me.  I don't give a fuck.  I want it.

Ask Nick how big his is.  I know he knows.

Don't insult my man's dick.  I'll insult yours.

It's okay to say that, yeah.

I want Nick's inside me.  I'll make it fit.  I don't care if it hurts.  I just want it.

I asked him.  He gave me his "What are you, crazy?" look and said, "Fifteen feet."

One of our friends overheard me asking.  I thought we were alone!  Now they're all mocking me.  I hope you're happy.

This is my last message.  I can't write to you anymore.

I'm sorry.

Two things before I go.

You really, really shouldn't talk to people you don't know the way you've been talking to me.  It's stupid.  Don't do it.

Stop wasting your time on those boards with the Little Teen Children and start licking Nick!  You idiot!

Oh, yeah.  I lied to you.  His name isn't Scott.

        He wasn't sure how angry he was.

        The one and only person who knew, who knew, who knew and understood, had left him.  Gone. Without explanation.

        He'd really looked forward to talking to KBaby.  He could talk about Nick and be honest about wanting his best friend.  It had been a relief to tell someone, anyone.  Especially someone who understood.  Someone who wouldn't be confused or disgusted.

        He turned off his laptop and pushed it away, going to sit on his bed.  He stared at the ceiling and listened to the fans screaming outside of the hotel.  No more KBaby.  He wondered why.

        He did feel guilty.  For talking to a stranger about Nick that way.  But it wasn't like KBaby knew who he was, or who Nick was.  Not that that made it okay to dissect Nick's genitals with a stranger.

        His phone rang.  Brian grunted and rolled over for it.  "Hello?"

        "Hey, come over to my room for a minute."

        "Why?"

        "Just get over here."

        "Yes, master."  Brian rolled his eyes and got off of the bed.  He checked his hair in the mirror, smacked himself mentally for doing that, and left his room.  He locked his own door and knocked at Nick's.

        Nick opened the door.  "Come in here for a minute."

        "What's going on?" Brian asked.

        Nick closed and locked the door.  "Do me a favor."

        "What?"

        Nick pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it, standing before Brian in his jeans, barefoot, naked to the waist.  He turned to one side, presenting Brian with his left shoulder.  "Lick me."

        The world spun for a moment.  Brian had no words.

        "Go ahead.  You can."

        Brian leaned in, lips parting, lashes lowering.  He tasted Nick, sweet and salt.  One hand rose to Nick's shoulder; he licked the shark, licked Nick's muscle, let his eyes close and his cock throb.

        He'd repressed everything, denied everything, limited all of his passion and desire.  He was in the public eye, he was always with Nick; he had no chance to unleash his hunger and admit what he wanted.  He'd narrowed his focus to this one thing, until this one act had become The Act.

        And now here he was.  Doing it.  Nick had granted permission.

        If he could do this...if he were allowed this one thing...what else could he do?  What else would Nick allow?

        He moved, coming behind Nick, mouth on Nick's shoulder, right hand running down Nick's chest, left hand fingers skimming down Nick's back.  His left hand stopped at the waistband of Nick's jeans, not venturing lower just yet.  He tasted the tattoo on Nick's shoulder and let his right hand fingers catch a nipple.  "Scott?"

        "Calling you Thomas would have been too obvious."

        He pushed and pulled quickly, getting Nick to face him.  "Why didn't you just tell me?!"

        "I was having too much fun."

        "You were scared."

        "That, too."

        He kissed Nick, reached up for that soft pink mouth.  Nick's mouth opened for him, welcomed his tongue with a hungry, choked sound.  Strong hands held him close, roamed his back, as Nick backed up towards the bed.

        They were quick and eager, wanting each other, too long denied.  Within seconds Brian was on his back on the mattress, Nick on top of him with a long-fingered hand down his pants, Nick's tongue slicking against his with erotic finesse.

        Brian tried to do more than moan and move under Nick, but he wasn't very successful.  He'd wanted this too badly for too long to act like a skilled seducer.  And Nick wasn't giving him much of a chance to play Don Juan.  He suspected that the zipper to his jeans was broken now, Nick had jerked it open so fast.

        Oh god...

        Nick panted against his mouth.  "Do that again."

        "Do what again?" he asked dazedly, trying to find his brain.  "Come in my pants?"

        "Yeah."

        "Give me a second."

        "Do that again," Nick insisted, kissing him.

        Ignoring the mess he'd made, which Nick's hand was (he hoped inadvertantly) smearing up his chest, Brian reached down Nick's body, down naked torso and soft warm skin to heat, hardness.  There.  Right there.  Nick made a low groaning sound and pushed into his palm.  He rubbed over the responsive bulge, feeling it twitch and pulse against his fingers.

        "Brian," Nick said, a thick, pleasure-filled sound.

        Nick must make that same sound, say that same name, when he masturbated.

        His name.  Brian's name.  Nick said his name.

        Brian rolled them over quickly.  Nick groaned and tried to get his hand back where it belonged, between Nick's thighs.  He licked Nick's navel and opened Nick's jeans.

        "You wouldn't," Nick said.

        He would.  And did.

MatthewHaldemanTime.com