Copyright April 2, 2002-December 8, 2003 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Thus far we've had JC/Justin, Nick/Drew/Brian, Nick/Jeff, Nick/Drew/Brian/Nick/Jeff, AJ/Lance, AJ/Howie, AJ/Kevin, Chris/Howie, and partridge/pear tree.

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and 98 Degrees 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.

Notice: First, read "I Need You Tonight," "Boy Lead the Way to Ecstasy," "Not Easy," "No One," "Rest in Peace," "Destiny," and "Together." I know it sounds like a lot, but it'll only take you an hour or two.

        Howie had tried to give Chris something constructive to do.  He’d asked Chris to unpack dishes, unpack clothes, set up the stereo, etc.  Chris would do it, for about ten minutes, and then wander back to see what the rest of them were doing.

        “Chris, your hand is hurt,” Howie said.

        “It’s fine,” Chris said.

        Joey would have pointed out that anyone so stupid as to punch out a window might not have the judgment functions to decide how well healed he was, but Howie was slightly more diplomatic.

        “John asked you to take it easy, and he specifically said not to help with this part of the move,” Howie said.  “If you start doing too much, I’m going to start worrying about you.  Take a break at least just for the rest of today.”

        “Hmm,” Chris said, twiddling his thumbs, looking up towards the ceiling as he thought.  “Hmm.  No, no.”

        “All right.”  Howie set down the box he’d been carrying.  “Come on downstairs and let’s see how things are going.”

        Joey wondered how Howie was going to find Chris something to keep him occupied and out of trouble.

        What had gone wrong.  How to fix it.

        He ran his fingers through the flame reflectively.  He remembered teaching Nick how to do it.  An exercise in trust.  Did anyone trust him anymore?

        Justin had said a lot of good things.  Things worth listening to.  Advice worth taking.

        He had to talk to Lance.  To Chris.  To Howie.  To Kevin.

        He could fuck Justin.

        He could fuck AJ.

        He could pull apart Chris and Howie.

        He could play “I know what you did last summer” with Brian and Co.

        He could fuck with Kevin.

        He could make Joey’s life a living hell.

        Joey deserved it.  Lance had warned Joey not to start anything he couldn’t finish, and Joey had done exactly that.  Joey had run out on him, leaving him there without one word of explanation other than, “I can’t.”  Joey couldn’t what, couldn’t stomach the idea of fucking him?

        Joey had been touching him, touching him, touching him, saying things like “I miss you” and “I’m yours,” telling him how pretty and sexy and hot he was.  What had all of that been about?

        If Joey wanted to play mind games, Lance was more than willing to return the favor.

        “What?” Chris asked, looking around with suspicion.

        “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Howie asked, taking a slow turn around the room to give Chris time and space.

        “Nothing happened.”

        That was a bald lie.  Howie untucked his shirt and rubbed his chin, walking around the room again.  “What do you want to do with this room?  The skylight’s giving us a lot of sun.  We could make it sort of a sun porch, and eat out here most of the year.”

        “When I’m with you, I think about you,” Chris said.  “When you talk, I pay attention to what you’re saying and how you’re saying it.  When we make love, all I’m thinking about is you.”

        Howie turned to Chris directly.  “When I’m with you, I think about you.  When I’m not with you, I think about you.  When you talk, I pay attention to what you say, how you say it, whether you’re fidgeting, and whether you’re making eye contact or not.  When we make love, Chris, I’m only thinking about you.”

        “You’re too good for him,” Chris said.  “You know that, don’t you?  You’re too good for him.  He’s disgusting, he’s not worthy of you.”

        “I didn’t want to bring this into our new home,” Howie said.

        “I want to be a good person, Howie, I want to be bigger than this.  I want to be perfect for you.”

        Howie was quick to respond to that.  “You are a good person, Chris, you’re a great person.  Don’t be perfect, I don’t want that.  I can honestly say that I love your flaws. They make you Chris.”

        “Tell me why he’s your best friend.  Tell me why he’s good for you.”

        “AJ loves me, he respects me, he listens to me.  He wants me to be happy.  He thinks that I’m a good person and he thinks that I’m a special person.  He’s always right there beside me if I ever need him.”

        “He respects you,” Chris said.

        “Yes,” Howie said.  “And he trusts me.”

        “I’m angry,” Chris said.  “I’m mad at him and at you and at me.  I’m so mad I punched through the window, and that was such a fucking stupid thing to do, now I’m even more angry, and embarrassed, and ashamed.  It really was a fucking stupid thing to do, and you know that, and now I have to face the fact that up until now, maybe you didn’t know certain things about me that now you know.”

        “Like what?”

        “Like if you get me mad enough, I’ll slam my hand through a glass window.”

        “At least you hit an object, and not a person.”

        “I broke the window,” Chris said, angry with himself, embarrassed by his loss of control.

        “We can replace it.”

        “I cut my damned hand.”

        “I’m sorry about that,” Howie said, taking it in both of his hands.  “You’re going to have to take better care of yourself.  Windows can be replaced, but you can’t.”

        “I’m a jackass.”

        “You’re not,” Howie said.  “You’re stuck in a bad situation that we haven’t managed to solve.”

        “I can think of a few ways to solve it, but we’re going to need string cheese and a soccer ball,” Chris said.

        Howie smiled.  “Irreplaceable,” he said, and kissed Chris.

        Chris latched onto Howie’s kiss, deepening it quickly, taking over, pulling out the rubber band to tangle his free hand in Howie’s hair.

        Howie found himself giving in to Chris’s demands, letting Chris take his mouth, moaning quietly as Chris pushed him back to the wall.

        “I don’t want to turn Timberlake Chasez,” Chris said, breaking off the kiss to meet Howie’s eyes, breathing against Howie’s mouth, “but tell me you’re mine.”

        “I’m yours,” Howie promised.  “I’m yours.”  He put his arm around Chris and succumbed to Chris’s hot kiss.

        A lot of it was apologizing.  Acting like someone worth being friends with, someone worth maintaining a relationship with.  Proving that he was trustworthy.

        He could say whatever he wanted, and it wouldn’t make a difference anymore.  What he said didn’t matter.  It was all in how he behaved.  What he did.  By now, his word was worth shit.  But his actions, his actions were important.  He had to be trustworthy, and live that out.

        That meant no more Lance.  Not even as friends.  Maybe later, in time.  Right now, Kevin had to come first, and that meant that he had to put distance between himself and Lance.

        He loved Lance, he did.  He was going to miss Lance.  But he couldn’t lose Kevin.

        It had to be true.  It was the only explanation for why Joey groped him all of the time, grabbing his ass, rubbing his nipples.

        But why?  Why would Joey want him?  Joey was straight, and he wasn’t a woman.

        It wasn’t that Joey was using him for sex, because they weren’t having sex.  If he were getting Joey off on a regular basis, giving blowjobs, then maybe it would make sense, but that wasn’t happening.

        It didn’t fit.

        Then again, it didn’t have to fit.  It just had to be exploitable to Lance’s advantage.

        Whoa.  Something was off.  Something was different.  He was not feeling the soft fabric of Howie’s underwear; he was feeling the tight round muscle of Howie’s ass.  Chris moved his fingers towards the center and discovered fabric.  A sort of string.  He plucked it.

        Howie, unfazed, kissed him deeper, hand curling around the back of his neck, thumb rubbing up and down towards the front of his throat.

        Chris slid his fingers down the string, following the bisection of Howie’s ass, until the string turned into fabric, covering Howie’s balls, holding them snugly.

        “Chris,” Howie said, kissing his mouth.

        Chris wanted to make love to him, claim his body, make him think of himself as Chris’s.  But he didn’t have any-

        Howie pushed lube into Chris’s hand.

        Chris took Howie’s hips in his hands, spinning him to the wall.

        He couldn’t call Lance.  He had to have one meeting with Lance, in person, to say good-bye, but other than that, no.

        He couldn’t call Kevin.  Kevin was probably still at Howie’s, getting the job done, staying behind to clean up his messes for him.  He wanted to talk to Kevin the most, and first, but he had to wait until Kevin was finished.

        He couldn’t call Howie until after he’d talked to Kevin.  Besides, it might be better to go see Howie and Chris in person.

        He couldn’t call Nick, or Brian, because Drew had just come home, and he respected their need for time together.

        He dialed the first six digits of Lance’s number and hung up.

        Lance.  AJ touched the buttons without pressing them.  He could talk to Lance.  He could tell Lance anything.  Everything.  Lance would listen.  And then they’d fuck.

        He dialed the first five numbers and hung up.

        Joey being straight was out of Joey’s control, and Lance had been willing to suffer in silence and let it go.  But Joey had played with him, used him, shamed him, and rejected him.

        He had to make Joey pay.

        Chris jacked Howie’s cock, pumping it, feeling Howie’s fingers move over his, feeling Howie shudder against his body.  He thrust steadily into Howie’s ass, relishing the needful ache in his balls.  He was going to fuck this gorgeous, beautiful-perfect man until they both came, drenched in sweat and lust and love and cum and each other.  Howie was his, not because he’d demanded ownership, not because he had any kind of horrible hold over Howie, but because Howie had come to him and chosen him and decided to be with him.

        “Oh, Chris, my love, my yes, oh, oh, oh, Chris…”  Howie’s hand closed tightly over Chris’s hand, keeping it in place, as Howie came, groaning, turning his head on Chris’s shoulder to kiss Chris’s mouth, spending sweet white cum over their combined hands.

        Chris held Howie’s relaxing weight as he pumped his hips, kissing Howie, tangling his cum-stained fingers with Howie’s, impossibly close to coming.  God, he was in love with Howie.  Howie sucked on his tongue; his dick spasmed, thrilling to the suction, and he came, groaning into Howie’s kiss, tightening his arm around Howie, pushing his body forward so he wouldn’t fall back.

        The kiss was broken, but their bodies remained joined.  Chris lowered his forehead to Howie’s shoulder, his breathing shallow and irregular, his arm around Howie’s waist.

        Howie, half pressed to the wall, relaxed his grip on Chris’s hand, stroking Chris’s forearm.

        Chris splayed his cum-splattered hand to Howie’s abdomen, breathing softly.

        “I don’t think in terms of ownership,” Howie said quietly, still caressing Chris’s forearm.  “I don’t believe that people can be owned.  I can’t honestly say that I believe that I belong to you.  But I belong with you.  I belong beside you.”

        Chris closed his eyes.  Beautiful.  Perfect.

        “And despite what I just said, Chris, I am yours.  I’m your Howie, your love, and you’re my Chris, my love.  I wouldn’t make that kind of claim if I didn’t believe it.”

        “I love you,” Chris said, his eyes still closed, not wanting to move away from Howie’s body.

        “I love you,” Howie said.

        Chris wanted to remain in the moment forever.

        AJ let the robe fall to the floor and walked to his closet.  He dressed and left the house.

        He was irrationally angry, because he couldn’t expect a straight man to return his sexual interest.  But why had Joey pretended to return that interest?

        To make fun of him?  To humiliate him?  He couldn’t picture Joey laughing at his pain.  But it didn’t make any sense.

        Except Joey did return his interest.  Joey wanted to fuck him.  Joey had said it, “I want to fuck you.  I want to fuck you.”  Joey had meant it.  The desire in Joey’s looks and touches, the lust in Joey’s voice.

        But Joey hadn’t followed through on it.

        Joey had to be taught that no one played with him like that.

        “He won’t ask us,” Howie said, pulling up his track pants.  “We’ve been gone long enough that they can figure it out.”

        “What are we going to say when Joey asks us where my shirt is?” Chris asked.  “Or should I put this one back on?”

        “Here,” Howie said, handing one of his over to Chris.

        “Ooohhh, Howie’s clothes,” Chris said to himself, running the cotton through his fingers.  “It smells like you.”

        Howie put on his other shirt, and picked his hairband from the floor.  “Now, how would you like to spend the rest of the afternoon?”

        “In bed with you,” Chris said, gingerly pulling on the shirt, carefully adjusting it against his skin.

        “We haven’t put the bed together yet,” Howie said, tying back his hair.

        “In the bathtub with you,” Chris said, running his hand down the front and sides of the shirt, smoothing it to himself.

        “We still have a lot of work to do, and we can’t let Joey and Kevin do it all,” Howie said.

        “In the hot tub with you,” Chris said, tugging Howie’s hair free.

        Howie hesitated, his hand rising to Chris’s elbow.  “I would like that,” he admitted, smiling a little.

        Chris grinned.  “It could be romantic.  You and me…  A hot tub…  Moonlight…”  He kissed Howie’s jaw.  “A little champagne…”  He kissed Howie’s neck; Howie arched slightly, welcoming his attention.  “A few roses…”

        “Oh…”  Howie kissed him, mouth sweet and wet.  “It sounds perfect.”

        “It would be a nice way to celebrate,” Chris said.  “New house…”  He cupped Howie’s ass in one hand.  He could feel Howie’s ass through the material of Howie’s pants, without underwear in the way.  It was fascinating.

        There was a loud thud from elsewhere in the house.

        “Did you hear that?” Howie asked.

        “No,” Chris said.  “Kiss me some more.”

        “That crash was either your best friend or my best friend,” Howie said.  “We should make sure everything’s okay.”

        “They’re fine,” Chris said.  “It’s impossible to hurt Joey.”

        “They might have dropped one of your boxes of records.”

        “Those filthy dirty fuckers,” Chris said, and headed for the door.  He was almost there when Howie took his hand from behind, turning him, and kissed him again.  “Oh,” he said, kissing Howie back.  Oh, yeah…

        “You can wear any of my clothes any time you want to,” Howie said.

        He wouldn’t, but, “Thank you.  You can, too,” he offered.  Not that Howie would ever take him up on that, but the thought of it pleased him.  “You know, none of my girlfriends ever liked it when I wore their clothes.  You should have seen the look on Cindy’s face when she saw me in her old prom dress.  I told her it would look better if I put on the right lingerie, but she didn’t have anything in my size, so I had to raid her mom’s underwear drawer, and you know what kind of underwear mothers have.”

        “Chris,” Howie said.

        “Yeah?” he asked.

        Howie’s thumb ran down Chris’s nose, and Howie kissed him briefly.  “I don’t have a prom dress.  Don’t worry about it.”

        Lance.

        His thumb hovered over the button.  He could answer.  He could speak to Lance.

        What if Lance needed him?  What if something had happened, or Lance had started using again?

        It wasn’t fair.  He shouldn’t have to deny and refuse and reject Lance, simply because he loved Kevin.

        Things wouldn’t always be this way.  Someday, he and Lance would be friends again.  It was just for now, until he’d shown Kevin what kind of man he really was, underneath it all.

        “Sorry, baby,” he told his ringing phone, and dropped it into the passenger seat.  He tightened his hands on the steering wheel.  Kevin had better appreciate this.

        “Problem?” Joey asked.

        “There’s no problem,” Kevin said, halfway up the stairs with a box.  “We’re about to put the bed together, but we need-”

        “I put it somewhere,” Howie said, and went into the next room.

        “Something fell,” Chris said.  “Or crashed.  Or…something.”

        “We were getting the sofa up the stairs,” Joey said.  “The burgundy one that’s heavier than the whole rest of the house.  I was leading, Kevin was coming down, my hand slipped, the sofa crashed into him, I’m surprised it didn’t fall the whole way down the stairs and flatten him like a cartoon.  He could’ve broken something.  But he just dusted off and kept going.”

        “Hunh,” Chris said, pondering.  That odd note in Joey’s voice.  What was that?  Respect?  Admiration?

        “What?” Joey asked.

        “You’d better watch it, or you might start liking these guys.”

        “Chris.”

        “Not guilty!” he protested, spinning to face Howie.

        “What do I have to do to get you to take care of yourself and rest?” Howie asked.

        “Rest with me.”

        “Chris, I would do that.  I would send Joey and Kevin home, and curl up with you to sleep or watch TV or talk, if I thought that it would work.  But I know you.  You’d be fidgeting and up again and trying to pop your stitches.”

        “I wouldn’t,” Chris said.  “Normally, yeah, but not today.”  Today was different.  Today, he would be more than content to spend hours simply holding Howie in his arms.

        “Are you sure?” Howie asked.

        “I’m sure,” Chris said.  “But I’m not seriously asking you to stop everything for that.  We’re trying to get moved in, and you can’t stop all of that and send them home.”

        “We can finish the rest later,” Howie said.  “We got a lot accomplished today.”

        “You can’t just send them home,” Chris said again.  “I bought them pizza for lunch, and I want to get my money’s worth of work out of them.”

        “You don’t have to ship us off,” Kevin said from the doorway.  “I’m willing to stay.”

        “Me, too,” Joey said, wiping sweat from his forehead.

        “We can’t ask you to stay if we’re not going to be working,” Howie said.

        Chris liked being a “we.”  Especially because it was with Howie.

        “Joey and I can get this done today,” Kevin said.

        “You’ll be doing us a favor, keeping Chris out of our way,” Joey said.

        “We’ll let you know if we run into any real problems,” Kevin said.

        “Thank you,” Howie said, sounding sincerely touched.

        “No problem,” Joey said.  “Come on,” he said to Kevin, “let’s get that table upstairs.”  They left the room.

        “Well, hell,” Chris said.  “We could have bailed hours ago.”

        “Let’s find a room with a TV that’s out of their way,” Howie said.

        “Hot tub,” Chris said.

        “We’re not going to sit in the hot tub while Kevin and Joey are doing our physical labor,” Howie said.  “I’m keeping you from making your hand worse, not rewarding you.”

        “Now, if you were rewarding me, how would you do that?” Chris asked.  “For example.”

        Howie took Chris’s healthy hand and took him upstairs.  “You’ll have to use your imagination.”

        He was in love with Kevin.  Kevin didn’t trust him.  He had to get Kevin to trust him.  To get Kevin to trust him, he had to act trustworthy.  To be trustworthy, he had to dispel Kevin’s fears.

        What were Kevin’s fears?  That he’d bail at the first sign of trouble.  That he’d cheat at the first sign of trouble.  That he’d create trouble to have an excuse to cheat and bail.

        He had to prove that he was committed to this relationship.  That cheating and bailing were not going to happen.  That at the first sign of trouble, he’d compromise to make their relationship work.

        If Kevin was afraid that he might cheat, then he had to get rid of all signs and opportunities.  That meant getting rid of Lance.  It didn’t mean getting rid of Howie, did it?  Probably not, but he would have to check.  He needed to find out how worried Kevin was.  If he went clubbing, did he have to have Kevin by his side at every moment?  Or was he okay, as long as he came back to Kevin by the end of the night?

        There would be no bailing.  No running.  No fleeing.  None of that.  He was going to stay and make things work.

        Would moving in together be a good move, or would it seem like a big show without much substance?  He wanted to live with Kevin, and Kevin wanted to live with him.  Maybe he’d wait to cross that bridge.  He didn’t want to push for it, and have his intentions questioned, since it was something he sincerely desired.

        He needed to do something for Kevin.  He wanted to.  Something that would show that he cared.  Something meaningful.  Something that would take Kevin’s breath away, the way AJ’s breath was stolen every time their eyes met.

        It was strange.  He probably should have been obsessing about AJ, glowering and gnashing his teeth.  But his brain was on a constant Howie loop.  Howie, Howie, Howie.  Everything was soft and dreamy.  Mmm, Howie.

        He still couldn’t believe he’d actually, he’d really, he’d…  He’d fucked Howie against the wall.  Pushed Howie up against the wall, and taken Howie, right there.  That wasn’t at all like him.  Sex, sure, against a wall, sure, standing up, sure, but he’d been forceful.  Not that Howie had objected.  As a matter of fact, Howie had been right there with him.  It had been like Howie had understood.  Howie had known what he’d needed to do.

        AJ had been with Howie before, in the past.  So had a lot of other people.  But Howie was with Chris now.  They were living together.  They made love together.  They laughed together.  They had a house together.  Chris couldn’t change the past, and neither could Howie.  All they could focus on was the present and the future.  And for Chris, the present was feeling pretty damned great, and the future had every possibility of being even better.

        And then there was that whole underwear situation.  When he’d handed Howie the white mesh thong that morning, he really had not expected Howie to put it on.  Only in his dreams.  But he knew what he’d felt, and the very idea of it, much less the reality of it…

        Chris reached back, putting his hand on Howie’s thigh, feeling upwards toward Howie’s ass.

        “What are you doing?” Howie asked quietly in his ear.

        “You’re going to let me see it again, aren’t you?”

        “Let you see what?” Howie asked.

        “It’s white, it’s sexy, and it’s going to give me wet dreams for the rest of my life.”

        Howie whispered in his ear, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

        Chris pulled his hand away, rolling over to face Howie.  “If we’re going to keep cuddling up like this, we’re going to have to buy wider couches.”

        “I’ll look into that,” Howie said.

        Chris stroked the front of Howie’s track pants, feeling Howie underneath.

        Howie inhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

        Chris reached inside.  Soft close mesh.  Warm flesh.  He cupped it in his hand, fondling it with curiosity.  “You did it.”

        “You don’t ask for much,” Howie said.  “I was happy to do something, ah, for you.”  He breathed carefully.  “Chris?”

        “Howie?” Chris returned.  He drew Howie’s pants down slightly, slipping back off of the couch, to the floor.  Howie’s cock was visible, his dark pubic hair curling around it.  Chris put his mouth to Howie’s groin, licking Howie through the mesh, mouthing him, eyes closed, trying not to moan.  Howie’s dick hardened, growing fuller under his ministrations.

        Chris raised his eyes, looking up to Howie’s face.  Howie’s eyes were closed, and he had the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to remain quiet.  Chris lowered his head again and sucked on Howie through the mesh, tonguing it roughly, trying to taste Howie.  He pulled the mesh aside, releasing Howie’s balls, sucking them into his mouth.  Howie groaned, and Chris rolled Howie’s balls on his tongue, his fingers sliding back, pressing to Howie’s asshole.  Howie whispered his name, pushing the thong down, taking his own erection in hand and putting the head of it to Chris’s lips.

        Chris parted his lips, breathing hotly over the head, rubbing his fingers against Howie’s asshole, teasing.  Howie’s hips hitched forward, and Howie laid his dick on Chris’s tongue.  Chris gently closed his mouth, suckling softly at the head.  Howie moaned, stroking Chris’s cheek, while Chris pushed his index finger in to the second knuckle.

        Chris heard a thump and a voice.  A name.  Kevin’s voice.  Howie’s name.

        “Oh,” Howie said, and he sounded doomed.

        The word “shit” echoed in Chris’s brain.  He scrambled back, off of Howie.  He looked over his shoulder.  The door was open.  He looked back to the sofa and was rewarded with the glorious sight of Howie tucking himself back into the thong.  Then Howie jerked his pants up and tugged his shirt down, sitting up, pulling Chris up to sit beside him just as Kevin appeared in the doorway.

        “Hey,” Kevin said.  “Do you remember where the screwdriver is?”

        “Phillips?” Chris asked, wondering if he sounded as flushed as he felt.

        “Yeah,” Kevin said.

        “It was at the bottom of the stairs,” Chris said.  “No.  The kitchen.”

        “Thanks,” Kevin said, and left.

        Howie sagged against the back of the couch.  “Thank you,” he said to Chris.  “I could barely remember what a screwdriver was.”

        “Howie, my love, do me a favor,” Chris said.

        “What?” Howie asked, sitting up.

        “Go change your underwear.”

        Howie laughed.  “You don’t like it?”

        “I like it too much.  Go away.”

        Howie kissed the tattoo on the side of Chris’s neck, and left the room.

        Chris picked at the bandage on his hand.

        “Look at you, you lazy bum,” Joey said, coming in through the doorway.  “Sitting around doing nothing while the real men do your work for you.”

        “Pull up a cushion,” Chris said, and Joey sat beside him.  “I wanted to ask you why you were calling me at an inhuman hour of the morning.  You were just getting back from the clubs, and you decided to volunteer for physical labor?”

        “All I did was call,” Joey corrected him.  “You roped me into coming over here to do your dirty work.”

        Chris didn’t say anything, waiting for Joey to fill the silence as he saw fit.

        “I was out all last night, but…”  Joey shrugged.

        “Couldn’t get laid?” Chris guessed.

        “No, I got laid,” Joey said.  “Twice.”

        “Hey, good for you, two taps,” Chris said, bumping Joey’s fist with his own.  “Wow, that almost made me seem cool.”

        “What made you settle down with one person instead of staying out there?” Joey asked.  “I can understand it for regular guys, but for us, life is like an all-you-can-eat buffet.  We have unlimited opportunities with unlimited numbers of women.  Or men.  Why get monogamous?”

        “Howie gives me things that a random stream of one-night stands can’t give me,” Chris said.

        “Like what?” Joey asked.

        “Like he’s interested in how my day went and he cares about how my life is going.  I always have someone to turn to who puts me at the top of his priority list.  We share stories and meals and burn-the-house-down sex.  It’s friendship, companionship, the privilege and responsibility of being there for someone, having someone there for you in return.  What do you get from a string of women?  You get to strut around like a pimp, but the only other things you get are a lot of orgasms, and no responsibilities.  I can get orgasms from Howie.  And responsibility isn’t that bad now that I’m not five years old anymore.  And, to be honest, even with the four best friends ever on the planet, certain aspects of life can be lonely if you don’t have someone all your own to share things with.”

        Joey looked at him.  “Someone all your own to share things with.”

        “Right.  What does this have to do with anything?  The club scene isn’t as satisfying as it used to be?  Or you’re wondering why I gave up such a great single life to tie myself to the slow, boring death of coupledom?”

        “I don’t know,” Joey said.  “I’m a little confused, myself.”

        “We’re going at this from the wrong angle,” Chris said.  “You don’t decide you want monogamy and then start looking for someone to be monogamous with.  You find someone, you fall in love, and then you decide that you want monogamy because you want to be only with this person so that this person will only be with you.  And you, I know you’re going to find somebody.  You’re too generous and nurturing.  You want someone to take care of.  As soon as you find somebody to take care of, you’re going to be with her, and only her.”

        “You think so?” Joey asked.

        “I think so,” Chris said.  “You know, you asked me what I get out of monogamy, but that’s not what it’s about.  It’s about giving.”

        “I’m a giver,” Joey said.

        “Indeed you are,” Chris agreed.  “If you start noticing that you’re giving to one sexy young woman in particular, you may want to check your heart for signs of the big l-o-v-e.”

        “Love’s strange,” Joey said.  “Friendship, friendship I can understand.  What did you say earlier?  Friendship.  Companionship.  Privilege and responsibility, being there for someone, someone being there for you.”

        “That is correct,” Chris said.  “Like a best friend, only with sex and romance.”

        “I have best friends, and I have sex and romance,” Joey said.  “Maybe more sex and less romance.”

        “I’m talking about a best friend with sex and romance, all in one tidy package,” Chris said.  “I, of course, had the sex and romance first, and the best friend part grew from there.  Some people start with a best friend, and then add sex and romance, like JC and Justin, or Brian and Nick, or Nick and Jeff.  Since your best friends are the four of us, you might want to do it in the other order.  Taking your best friend, JC, and adding sex and romance to that relationship, could end up badly, especially if Justin’s feeling grumpy.”

        “Lance is my best friend,” Joey said.

        “Don’t nitpick,” Chris said.

        Joey stood.  “I have work to do.”

        “Sucks to be Joey,” Chris said, leaning back with a sigh of contentment.  He watched Joey go with a sense of relief.  He’d been afraid that Joey was having Lance problems again.  He wasn’t sure what problem Joey actually was having, but if it was about bachelorhood versus monogamy, it certainly didn’t involve Lance.

        He was going crazy.  Being alone, and sitting still, at the same time, was not something that came naturally to him.  Alone and on the move, he was great with, but alone and still, no.

        He knew he should get up and get dressed.  Lounging naked in Kevin’s bed made it look like he wasn’t taking anything too seriously.  But he was.  When Kevin came home, he’d thrown on something so they could talk.  Until then, he wanted his body to be as comfortable as possible, while he teased apart the knots in his personal life.

        He was assuming, of course, that Kevin wanted to come home and talk to him.  That Kevin wouldn’t be royally pissed to see him.  But they were in a relationship.  They were boyfriends, lovers.

        What he’d said, the argument he’d had, had involved Chris.  It involved, in some ways, Howie.  It had nothing to do with Kevin.  But Kevin had been in the house, Kevin was his lover, Kevin was Howie’s friend.  He knew that Kevin would have something to say to him on the subject.

        “But you’re Kevin’s lover now.  He’s not responsible for you in the same way he was before.  You’re equals now.  Things have changed.”

        Damn, he hoped that it were true.

        “Gourmet,” Chris said.  “Excellent.”

        “I brought you a present,” Howie said, putting two pills into Chris’s hand.

        “Not my size,” Chris said, setting them aside on a plate.  “Sorry about that.”

        “I want you to be as healthy as possible,” Howie said.

        “I’m healthy.”

        “Were you this difficult in our old house?” Howie asked.

        Chris smiled.

        “What?” Howie asked.

        “I like that.  It sounds like we have history.”

        “We do have history,” Howie said.

        “We have a checkered past,” Chris said.

        “What kind of a past would you like to have?” Howie asked.

        “What is this, magical create-a-past?” Chris asked.

        “If you could change our past, or pick a different one.”

        Chris thought about it, eating pizza while he thought.  As he chewed, he made a face.  “Howie?”

        “Chris?” Howie asked.

        “Did you put a pill in my pizza?”

        “Yes, I did.  Keep eating.  There’s another one in there.”

        “Then what are these?” he asked, showing Howie the ones he’d refused.

        “Decoys.”

        “Sneaky.”

        Howie smiled.

        “Our past,” Chris mused.  “You’re a prince and I’m a stable boy.  You’re a pilot and I’m a stewardess.  I’m a bus driver and you’re a hustler.”

        “A hustler?” Howie asked.

        “I’m a zookeeper and you’re a movie star.”

        “How about I’m a singer and you’re a fashion designer?”

        “And I’m hired to design for your show, and we have a private fitting, and the dressing room door accidentally flies open while you’re changing, and the sight of your naked body awakens long-dead passions, and we have wild sex right there on the dressing room couch, and I’m desperately in love with you forever after.”

        “You have…quite an imagination,” Howie said.

        “How about this?” Chris asked.  “I’m a guy, a man of undiscovered genius.  You’re a guy, a man of infamous beauty.  We knew each other for years, but we never noticed each other.  Then one day we started noticing, and we were noticing like crazy.  I stalked you, you seduced me, we tried to get together, I wasn’t ready for a relationship, you didn’t know how to be in a relationship, but we finally figured out how much we matter to each other, and we got our acts together, and now we’re so madly in love we spend all of our free time making wild, passionate love.”

        Howie leaned back with a smile.  “I like that one.”

        “So do I,” Chris said.  “Especially the wild, passionate love part.”

        “Your genius isn’t entirely undiscovered,” Howie said.  “I admire your genius.  It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

        “Really,” Chris said, scooting closer to him.

        “Although I would never call myself a man of infamous beauty,” Howie added.

        “No?” Chris asked, undoing Howie’s hair.  “I would.”

        “Well, thank you,” Howie said.  “Chris?”

        “Howie?” Chris asked, curling his fingers in Howie’s hair.

        “You’re supposed to be resting.”

        “Maybe you should wear me out first.”

        Howie laughed and kissed him.  “Chris.”

        Chris tensed against the flutters in his nerve endings as Howie’s hands rubbed over his ass and thighs, guiding him to kneel over Howie’s lap, sitting on Howie’s thighs.  “Yeah?”

        “I like the wild, passionate love part, too.”

        He’d actually played the game with Nick, too, for a while, before Howie had found out about it and made them stop.  Nick had made great contributions to the lists.

        The lists actually had been ridiculous and immature.  AJ had never hated Kevin.  For the most part, they got along very well.  It was just that some days, AJ would find himself having moments when he wanted to, say, crawl into Kevin’s bed and suck Kevin’s dick; and to combat those moments of weakness, he’d force his thoughts in the opposite direction.

        Today, in Kevin’s bed, waiting for Kevin to come home, AJ made a different list.  Reasons he loved Kevin.

        This new list was a lot easier to make, and was going to be longer than all of the hate lists combined.

        Especially when AJ closed his eyes and remembered being lifted onto the kitchen table, his jeans and underwear dropping to the floor.

        But now they were done, and he was going to go home and rest, and eat, and think about not thinking about wanting to call Lance.

        Joey rounded the corner and stepped to the doorway of the room Chris and Howie were in, and stopped.  Chris and Howie were horizontal on the sofa, kissing, their legs shifting in restless but lazy movements, Howie’s hands on Chris’s back under Chris’s shirt.

        Joey coughed.  “Uh, Justin?  JC?”

        Chris froze.

        Howie gracefully withdrew his hands from under Chris’s shirt.

        “How do I react?” Chris stage-whispered to Howie.  “Panic?  Humor?  Accusation?”

        “Say hello and ask him if everything’s all right,” Howie suggested.

        “Hi, Joey,” Chris said with great cheer.  “Everything okay with you?”

        “We’re done,” Joey said.  “All of the furniture is in the right place, and all of the boxes are in the right rooms.  The only thing left is the unpacking from the boxes, and we’re not volunteering for that one.”

        “Thank you,” Howie said, pushing Chris up and off of him.  “We really appreciate all of your help.”

        “You’re welcome,” Joey said.  “I don’t mind being useful now and then.”

        “Thanks for having us over,” Kevin said, joining Joey in the doorway.  “I had a great time.”

        “Totally, great time,” Joey agreed.  “We’ll have to do it again real soon.”

        “You may have to,” Chris said.  “JC and Justin are still moving into their place.”

        “I’m busy that day,” Joey said.

        “Thanks for coming,” Howie said, getting up and walking over to them.  “Sorry we weren’t more help.”

        “Oh, that’s fine,” Joey said.  “Chris never is much help with anything, anyway.”  Chris bristled at that, but followed them downstairs.  “So, I had a great time,” Joey said, finding his car keys where he’d left them near the door.  “Next time you’re moving, don’t call me.”

        “Thanks for breakfast,” Howie said.  He touched a bruise on Kevin’s arm.  “Sorry we’re sending you home injured.”

        “Try buying some light-weight furniture,” Kevin said.  “No, it’s not problem.  “You have a great place, and it was a pleasure to help you out.  I’ll send you my bill,” he added, opening the front door.

        “Thank you, good-bye, thank you, good-bye,” Chris said, pushing Joey after Kevin.

        “Later,” Joey said, pulling the door shut after himself.  Standing outside in the fresh air, he stretched slightly.  “Does Howie have to own so much clothing?”

        “Does Chris have to own so much…shit?” Kevin asked.

        Joey snorted.  Wasn’t that the truth.  “I’m telling JC right now that they need to hire professionals, because I’m not doing this again, and they have three stories plus a full basement.”

        “How are they doing?” Kevin asked.

        “They seem okay.”  He was going to have to check in on them more closely.  They’d been left alone for far too long.  God, he’d been stupid, leaving them to themselves like that.  For all he knew, they’d fallen right back into destructive codependence and if he called and asked to speak to JC, Justin would answer.

        Kevin flexed, then rubbed his shoulder.  “God, I’m hungry.”

        Joey hesitated.  He glanced at Kevin, then away again.  He liked Kevin.  He could see himself and Kevin sharing a very respectful acquaintance, or even a friendship, of sorts.  Kevin was a pretty upstanding guy.

        Joey remembered back when Kevin had been straight, or at least when he’d thought Kevin was straight, and he and Kevin and Justin had commiserated, supporting each other.  It could be rough, being the only straight guy, for several reasons.  It could put them in a lot of awkward situations, personally and professionally.  With Justin almost being killed, and Kevin being chin-deep in religious bullshit, Joey had felt like he had an easy time of it, himself.  But the shooting had only cemented Justin’s convictions, and since Kevin hadn’t wavered, Joey would have felt like a major punk for thinking about backing out.

        Now Kevin was with AJ.  But at least that might keep Lance from being with AJ.  And Kevin had been the guy he’d called up at three in the morning after a too-long day of protestors damning him and his best friends, management and higher-ups trying to talk to the five of them about public and private behavior, and Joey himself walking in on Justin giving JC a blowjob.

        Not to mention, Joey was starving, too.  “Do you want to go get something?  I could use a serious amount of food, myself.”

        “No, I should get home.”

        Joey nodded.  Right.  Home, to AJ.  He hoped that Kevin would get out the paddle and spank AJ’s ass to punish him for being such a fucking bastard.  Hell, knowing AJ, that’d be a reward.

        “But thanks,” Kevin said.  “Maybe some other time.”

        “Sure,” Joey said.  He needed to go home to check on JC and Justin, anyway.  He stepped down off of the porch, walking towards his car, and Kevin did the same, parked beside him.  Joey opened his car door.

        “Wait,” Kevin said.

        Joey paused, looking up.

        “I have to make a call first, but what about, there’s a place over on Pine, Jenson’s?”

        Joey laughed.  “No, not there.  I can’t go in there anymore.”

        “Why not?” Kevin asked.

        “Fucked the owner’s wife.”

        “Are you serious?” Kevin asked.

        “She didn’t tell me she was married,” Joey said.

        Kevin laughed.

        Joey shrugged, grinning.

        “What about Langhoff’s?” Kevin asked.  “Or did you have sex with Mrs. Langhoff, too?”

        “No, Langhoff’s is safe,” Joey said.  “For now.”

        “We’d better start unpacking now,” Howie said.

        “Now?”

        “If we want to get it done before we turn eighty, yes,” Howie said.

        “What about…”  Chris saw all over again how very good-looking Howie was and got flustered.

        “What?” Howie asked.

        “The, um, hot tub.”

        Howie smiled.  “We can do that.  Let’s get one or two rooms done first.  We can start with the kitchen.”

        “I don’t know,” Chris said.  “With my hand…  Maybe I shouldn’t be unpacking.”

        “Earlier today, you were trying to carry furniture up the stairs.  Now you can’t unpack silverware?”

        “Maybe we should wait until we have contact paper.”

        “We do have contact paper.”

        “Damn.”

        Howie laughed.  “We’ll do the hot tub tonight.  I promise.”

        “You super-ultra-magnum promise?”

        Howie smiled.  “I super-ultra-magnum promise.”  He crossed his heart.

         “Okay,” Chris said.  “As long as that’s settled.  Let’s tackle these boxes.”

        “AJ.”

        The sound of AJ’s voice complicated Kevin’s already complex emotions.  “It’s Kevin.”  He didn’t want to be the kind of possessive, demanding man who had to check up on his lover every half hour, but the question came out: “Where are you?”

        “Your house.”  AJ paused for a heartbeat.  “Your bedroom.”

        Kevin tightened his hand on the steering wheel as his dick hardened in his jeans.  “AJ…”  It wasn’t time for sex or teasing.  They had to talk.

        “I know,” AJ said.  “When are you coming home?”

        “We finished up at Howie’s,” he said.  “Joey and I are about to eat, and then I’ll be home.”

        “You and Joey?” AJ asked, sounding surprised.

        “The more truces are called, the better.”  He noticed that he’d been unconsciously stroking the steering wheel, and stopped.  “Are you...  Are you on the bed?”

        “Yes.”

        Kevin closed his eyes.  His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, edged with sex.  “Naked?”

        “Yes.”

        He could see it, AJ in his bed.  He tried to remember what color his sheets were.  For AJ, they had to be dramatic: black, red.

        “How’s Howie?”

        “Happy,” Kevin said.  When Howie was around Chris, he radiated peace.  Contentment.  Happiness.  Potent sexuality.  Howie, like AJ, had a very strong, naturally powerful seductive quality.  They were both natural flirts.  Yet with AJ it was very much about actual, literal sex; and with Howie it was more about the romance of it.  People who hadn’t had very much romance in their lives, like Chris, were drawn to Howie.  Kevin loved Howie, but Howie was too sweet, too gentle.  Kevin was attracted to AJ’s potency.

        “How are you?” AJ asked.

        Kevin exhaled slowly.  “Conflicted.”  He had to do something about AJ and Chris and Howie and Lance, but he didn’t know what.  His relationship with AJ was new, and with newness came uncertainty.  Then why, in his heart, did he feel so sure of his place in AJ’s life?  Wasn’t he only fooling himself?  He had to face facts.  Facts like Lance, and the blood on Chris’s hand, and AJ’s predilection for cheating.

        “How’s Chris?” AJ asked.

        “Three stitches,” Kevin said.

        “Shit.”

        Kevin looked out through the windshield, watching an older couple enter the restaurant.  “I have to go.”

        AJ didn’t say anything.  Finally, Kevin heard, “Yeah.”  The silence had been AJ shutting him out; the “yeah” was AJ knowing he didn’t deserve that.

        “I’ll be home soon,” Kevin said.  “I want to talk to you.”  That was only half of the truth.  “I want to see you.”

        “Okay.”  AJ was making an effort to overcome his pride.  Kevin had to appreciate that.

        He wanted to say a lot of things to AJ, but he wanted to do it in person.  “Bye.”

        “Bye.”

        Kevin hung up.  He didn’t know what was going to happen when he got home.  But AJ was at his home, in his bed.  Not at AJ’s house, or Lance’s house, or a club.  His house.  His bed.  That had to mean something.

        “All right,” Howie said.  “See if you can find an ice bucket, and I’ll get the champagne.  And you go play with the hot tub while I find our bathing suits.”

        “Bathing suits?” Chris asked.  “What are you trying to say?  Are you implying that we’ll be dressed for this occasion?  That was not in our agreement.  In section B, subparagraph thirteen, it clearly states that we will be completely naked for this enterprise.”

        “Outside?  We don’t know which member of the paparazzi or which overexcited fan is going to be around.”

        “Shit, shit, shit.”  Chris thought about it.  “What about the less romantic, yet more conducive to nudity, indoor hot tub?”

        “I’d like to be outside,” Howie said.

        “It’s my fault,” Chris said, sighing.  “I overhyped the moonlight.  All right, we’ll be outside.  Why can’t we be like normal people and only have to worry about the neighbors next door spying on us?”

        “We’re just lucky that way, I guess,” Howie said.

        “I look stupid in bathing suits,” Chris muttered.

        “You let me be the judge,” Howie said.

        Chris loved that gleam in Howie’s eye.  It meant that good things were on the way.

        There were only two strikes against him.  Number one was his job title: Backstreet Boy.  But Joey had gotten over that with Brian and, halfway, with Howie, so he could overlook it in Kevin.

        The other strike, of course, was AJ.

        But AJ was fucking with Joey’s life in too many ways, and with everyone else’s life, too.  That had to stop.  If Joey wanted to be friends with Kevin, then he was going to do it.  He wasn’t going to let AJ dictate who his friends were.  Not that he expected to become Kevin’s best friend and hang out on a daily basis.  But their lives were oddly intertwined, and if things kept going the way they were, he and Kevin were going to be crossing paths pretty often.  So, if he could list Kevin among his various friends, so much the better.

        While they ate, they talked about how damned heavy Howie’s furniture was, and why Chris had all of that shit, and why he frankly didn’t need it.  Then they moved on to french fries, musical theater, and dogs.

        Then Kevin asked, “How’s Lance?”

        Joey shrugged.  “Hell if I know.”

        Kevin nodded, picking up the ketchup.

        “No, I’m not shitting you,” Joey said.  “It’s God’s honest truth.  I don’t know from one day to the next who he’s going to be.”

        Maybe that had something to do with the fact that Lance probably didn’t know, from one minute to the next, how Joey was going to act.  God, he’d fucked up.  He’d been five seconds from burying his dick in Lance’s ass.  He had to keep his hands off Lance, he had to.  If he wanted to keep Lance as his best friend, he was going to have to get his act together and keep his hands to himself.  If things deteriorated any more, between himself and Lance, or Chris and Lance, or JC and Lance, or Justin and Lance, or JC and Justin…  *NSYNC might be on the line, and that was unthinkable.  Unthinkable.

        “Is something going on?” Kevin asked.

        “With Lance?” Joey asked.  “Nothing’s going on that I can talk about, but let me share something I’ve learned.  Ignoring something and hoping that it’ll go away on its own, does not work.”

        Howie was in the bedroom, naked except for slim dark red trunks.  He was kneeling on the plushly carpeted floor, opening boxes of Chris’s clothing.  Most trunks were baggy and unflattering, but Howie’s were closely tailored and made Chris want to touch all of his exposed skin.

        “I give up,” Howie said, rising and handing over the box cutter.  “I can’t find your bathing suits.”

        “I’ll find one,” Chris said.  “You go ahead and get the champagne.”  He watched Howie leave, looked heavenward, and gave thanks for having that body in his bed every night.

        He couldn’t find his bathing suits any better than Howie could.  After opening every single damned box that had his name on it, he was ready to run outside with his spaghetti and meatballs flying in the breeze.  Or maybe he could wear one of Howie’s bathing suits.  They were about the same size.  And he had, that very day, been given complete freedom to wear Howie’s clothes.

        Howie’s bathing suits were on the bed.  Anything bikini-style was out; bikinis were for women with tidy, tucked-in genitals and shaved legs.  He tried a pair of black trunks, but they were too tight over his ass.  He tried a pair of navy blue trunks.  They were kind of short, but hell, Howie had seen his legs before.  Chris ran downstairs.

        He walked into the room where he’d had his confrontation with AJ.  Through the windows, he could see the hot tub, and Howie beside it, lighting candles.  Candlelight and moonlight.  Only Howie could mix romantic elements with this degree of success.  Chris stepped outside, and Howie looked up, straightening.

        Nothing had happened yet, but anticipation was thrumming in Chris’s blood.  Very good things were about to happen in the hot tub, and then very great things were going to happen after the hot tub, and Chris’s body was very aware of that.

        Chris wanted to get to the good stuff, and since that was going to start inside the hot tub, he needed to get in there.  He walked closer to it and, consequently, closer to Howie.  He took inventory: moonlight, candlelight, champagne, flutes, hot tub, Howie.  “No roses.”

        Howie smiled.  “I think it’ll be all right without them.”

        “I’ll try to carry on,” Chris said, stepping into the tub.  “Oh, this is going to feel good.  All of that hard work we did today, moving all of that furniture, this will be great.”  He sat, releasing a long-suffering sigh.  “That’s much better.”

        Howie stepped in, sitting near him, not too close but not too far, sinking into the water with relaxed grace.  “Yes, you did at least twice as much work as everyone else.”

        “It was rough,” Chris admitted, stretching out his legs.  He dropped his head back, looking up at the night sky.  He wondered what Howie was thinking about.

        “I love our house,” Howie said.  “Thank you.”

        “Well, you’re certainly welcome,” Chris said.

        “We’re going to have to hire a decorator.”

        “Looks like it.”

        “I’ll call around tomorrow.  We’re going to have to hire a maid, too.”

        “We are?”

        “I’m not cleaning this place myself.”

        “I’ll do it.”

        “Chris, you can’t.  You’re too busy.”

        “Next you’re going to say we have to hire personal assistants.”

        “I’m not going to say anything like that,” Howie said.  “What’s wrong with hiring a maid?”

        Chris didn’t like hearing himself sound irritable when he talked to Howie, so he made an effort to calm down again.  “I’ve gone through phases where I tried to live large, but it’s not me.  And it’s possible that I have irrational hang-ups about the repercussions of living above one’s station.”

        “You don’t have a station,” Howie said.  “Don’t think of it as throwing your money around and acting self-important.  Think of it as providing someone with a good job for good money.”

        “Someone’s going to be in our house, going through our things, taking mental note of how many cum stains are on our sheets.”

        “Chris, people are hired to look after everything you do.  Your safety, your wardrobe, everything.  They buy your underwear and measure your inseam.  I know that someone buys your lube for you so the press can’t report what kind of lube we use.”

        “My privacy is invaded at every turn, and so is yours,” Chris said.  “But not in our home.  We’re bringing that into our home?”

        “We’re going to need a maid,” Howie said.  “We can interview carefully, check references, and find one that seems discreet.  We won’t hire anyone you aren’t comfortable with.”

        “Okay.  I’ll agree to look into it with you,” Chris said.  “And until we get a maid, I’ll prance around in a little French maid’s outfit, anyway, and whack you with my feather duster when you act up.”

        Howie laughed.

        Chris loved making Howie laugh.  “Okay, so we have a good start here.  A good start.  We have the moon, the candles, the champagne - - let’s get that going.”  He reached for the bottle.  “Hot tub, revealing attire, good, good.  No roses, but we discussed that.  No fireplace, but we’re outside.  I’m not wearing any sexy cologne.  I’m not wearing diamonds, either, am I?” he asked, touching his earlobes and feeling the familiar small hoops.

        “No,” Howie said.  “That’s okay.”

        “We’re slipping,” Chris said, handing Howie a champagne flute.  “Let’s make a toast.  Toasts can be romantic.”

        “To our new life in our new home,” Howie said.  “And romance.”

        Chris clinked his flute to Howie’s, then took a sip.  “To…  To Howie.  Even without the roses, without the champagne, and the candlelight, and the hot tub, and the moon overhead, you make every night beautiful.”

        “Chris.”  Howie set his glass aside, sliding closer.  His kiss was soft, and the feel of his hand on Chris’s thigh made Chris’s dick sit up and take notice.

        Chris put his glass behind Howie on the ledge, taking the opportunity to wrap his arm around Howie, pulling Howie closer.  He licked inside Howie’s mouth, sliding his hand up Howie’s muscular thigh, then up over Howie’s bathing suit, tucking his fingers inside the waistband.

        “Don’t you dare,” Howie said, still kissing him, fingers on his nipple, making his dick harden.

        He dared.  He tugged Howie’s bathing suit down, exposing Howie’s ass.

        “We’re outside,” Howie reminded him.

        “No one’s looking,” he said, keeping Howie’s bathing suit pulled down in one hand, running his other hand over Howie’s ass.  It was firm and round, and he held on tighter, drawing Howie closer, until he could feel the hard press of Howie’s arousal against his own.  Howie groaned, and Chris threw Howie’s hair band over the edge of the hot tub, kissing Howie’s shoulder, up Howie’s neck, feeling the soft brush of Howie’s hair against his cheek.

        “Chris.”  Howie moaned, and his hand felt across Chris’s thigh and up over Chris’s bathing suit, and then Chris cursed against Howie’s neck as Howie’s hand circled his erection, pulling it out of the bathing suit.  Chris cursed again, rocking his hips forward into Howie’s hand, his hand on Howie’s ass jerking Howie closer.  Howie made an aroused sound, kissing him, on top of him now.  Chris grabbed Howie’s ass in both hands, rubbing his palms down the backs of Howie’s muscular thighs, squeezing the taut globes of Howie’s ass, pulling Howie against him.  Howie’s left arm was around his shoulders, hand holding onto the side of the tub; Howie’s right hand was merciless on his dick, squeezing and pulling with just too much pressure, bringing him right to the edge.

        “Sit up,” Howie said, and licked his ear, sucking on his earlobe, licking the shell of his ear, jacking his dick.  Chris’s motor control was just about shot, but he managed to pull himself into more of an upright position, his back against the side of the tub.  Howie’s kiss came back to his mouth, and Chris prayed that Howie’s next move would be to get him off.

        Howie dipped down and sucked at his nipple, licking it, fingers gently lifting and rolling Chris’s balls.  Chris moaned, his nipple tight, his balls feeling full and heavy, his body aching for release.  He pressed his finger against the little pucker of Howie’s asshole, pushing his finger in.  Howie’s quick, soft laugh sent precum flowing from Chris’s dick as Howie kissed over to his other nipple.  Chris’s free hand stroked Howie’s hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

        Howie kissed Chris’s mouth again, hands on Chris’s thighs, on Chris’s shoulders, leaving his dick to throb, angry and alone.  Chris rubbed his finger in and out of Howie’s body, wishing he could get Howie on his dick.  He tried to guide Howie’s hips forward, but Howie refused, whispering, “Not here,” and kissing his neck.

        Chris couldn’t believe Howie was still so in control while he was spinning so rapidly out of control.  “Where?” he asked desperately.

        “Inside,” Howie said, tongue-fucking his ear, hands in his hair.  Chris tried to pull Howie’s hips closer to his, at least to feel Howie’s erection against his, but Howie wouldn’t move.  Frustrated, Chris pulled his finger out of Howie’s body.  Howie made a disappointed sound and kissed him.  “Upstairs,” Howie said, and pulled back.

        Chris reached out, drawing Howie close again.  “Let me now,” he said, close to begging, urging Howie forward.  “I’ll be quick.”

        “Too quick,” Howie said, hands on Chris’s chest, both stroking Chris’s skin and ensuring space between their bodies.  “You’re too close.  If we get out of the tub and go upstairs, you’ll calm down a little.”

        Chris was so desperate, he managed to form sentences.  “I’ll get you off, I promise, I’ll do anything you want, here, upstairs, both.  Just let me get in you.”

        “Both?” Howie asked.

        “I promise,” Chris said, running his hands down Howie’s back, trying to guide Howie closer.

        “All right.”  Howie rose up a little, and Chris could see Howie’s erection trapped in the front of the swimsuit, prominently displayed, the head clearly outlined under the clinging fabric.  Chris moaned, feeling a new surge of lust, and then Howie was peeling the suit down, and Howie’s naked erection was exposed, cream pearling at the tip.  Chris’s lips parted, his tongue licking out for that taste of precum, but Howie denied him that pleasure, hips lowering carefully.  Chris felt Howie’s hand at the base of his cock, holding him steady.  Chris caught Howie’s hips in his hands, and together they guided their bodies to meet, and Howie groaned, low and slow, giving that soft, sexy laugh as he curled forward, then rocked back, and Chris wanted to scream with pleasure at the hot close shelter of Howie’s body.  His body moaned, “Finally,” and shuddered with relief.

        Howie was barely seated before he was on the move, rising up and down, a graceful even tempo.

        Chris wanted to tighten his grip on Howie’s hips and control Howie’s movement, but he’d already begged and bargained to get to this moment, and he didn’t want to push his luck.

        Howie was rising and falling with his usual faultless control, and every time he rose, his body came up out of the water a few inches before dropping back down.  When he was at ground zero, with Chris’s dick buried up his ass, his own cock was submerged; when he rose up, the head and and the first inch of the shaft came up out of the water.

        Chris couldn’t imagine what that would be like.  The hot swirling water, then exposure in the cool air, then back into the water.  He watched with fascination as Howie’s erection broke the surface of the water, then fell back, then reappeared.  He was so busy staring at the fuck of Howie’s dick, the water streaming over Howie’s abs, that he missed the critical point approaching.  When he felt it, it was too late.  He tried to warn Howie, but his mouth couldn’t form words.  All he could do was moan, and dig his fingers into Howie’s flesh, and come in a rush, releasing all of the tension his body had built, finally finding relief from the ache.

        He opened his eyes.  Howie was lifting off of him, sitting beside him.  Kissing his cheek.  He reached for Howie, turning, kissing Howie’s mouth.

        “Better?” Howie asked, stroking the inside of his thigh.

        “Thank you, you wonderful terrific human being,” Chris said, very grateful, still feeling afterwaves of pleasure.  “What do you want?  How can I serve you?”

        Howie smiled, kissing him softly, drawing down his bathing suit, dropping it over the edge of the tub.  Chris felt extra naked.  The swimsuit hadn’t been covering anything anymore, really, but now he was aware of how exposed he was, how vulnerable, outside where anyone could see.

        “I want to fuck you,” Howie whispered, and Chris felt Howie’s fingers stroking the cleft of his ass.  His body liked that idea, really liked it, and looked forward to it happening.  His mind, however, wasn’t quite as sure.  He closed his eyes when Howie kissed him again, telling himself to relax.  The sex part wasn’t the problem, but the being outside thing was unnerving.  What if someone saw them?  There was a stone wall, there were trees, and the neighbors couldn’t see them, but what if, what if…

         “Let’s go inside,” Howie said, one hand on his ass.

        “What?”  Chris had heard the words, but he was a little fuzzy on their meaning.  He realized, logically, that he had just asked a question and should let Howie answer that question, but the impulse to kiss Howie was stronger, so he kissed Howie, sliding his hand up Howie’s thigh, cupping Howie’s erection, feeling how hard it was, how smooth, how-

        “Oh, no,” Howie said, lifting Chris’s hand.  “Inside, upstairs.”

        That seemed wrong, and now Chris remembered why.  “Both,” he said, then realized that maybe he should clarify.  “I owe you, one here, one in the house.”

        “You can give me two in the house,” Howie said, eyes dark and suggestive.

        “How?” Chris asked.  “What do you want?”

        Howie’s finger drew circles on Chris’s chest, maddeningly near Chris’s nipple.  “Why don’t you just do what you want?”

        “Oh, don’t say that,” Chris said.

        “Why not?” Howie asked, his hand now in Chris’s hair.

        “When I’m not given directions, and I’m allowed to go off on my own, I do strange, odd things.  You don’t want that.”

        Howie smiled.  “I think it sounds fun.”

        Chris adored Howie.  “You’re a very nice person.”

        Howie kissed him and reached for their bathing suits.  After struggling back into his underwater, Chris helped Howie blow out the candles and get the champagne.  Then they went inside.

        Chris didn’t know what possessed him, other than that flash he’d gotten of Howie’s erection, on display under Howie’s bathing suit, as they’d climbed out of the tub.  As soon as they were in the house, he dropped the champagne bucket with a crash and grabbed Howie, his hands on Howie’s hips pushing Howie back against the wall, and fell to his knees, yanking down the red swimsuit.  He barely paid attention to the ice freezing his ankles as he sucked down Howie’s cock, his tongue swirling over the head, his hand cupping and rolling Howie’s balls.

        Howie’s hands were on the back of Chris’s neck, fingers rubbing up into Chris’s hair, cock thrusting down Chris’s throat.  While Chris breathed feverishly through his nose, clutching at Howie’s hips, Howie fucked his mouth in controlled, even thrusts.  All Chris saw, in the darkness, was the ripple and flex of Howie’s abs, the dark curls of Howie’s pubic hair, as Howie’s hips rocked and rolled.  He wasn’t thinking about sucking, or about the satin of Howie’s skin under his hands, or about the melting ice pooling around his foot.  All Chris was thinking about was the feel of Howie’s dick in his mouth, and how for most of his life he’d never dreamed he’d experience such a thing, and how now he couldn’t be without it.

        And then Howie’s hands cupped the back of his head, and the rhythm of Howie’s hips changed, and Chris closed his eyes, waiting for it, waiting for it, and oh!  There it was.  Howie was moaning, saying Chris’s name, coming in long spurts down Chris’s throat.  Chris nursed out the last few drops, remaining in position, until Howie smoothed his hair and let go.  Then he sat back, wiping his mouth, pulling up Howie’s bathing suit again.

        “Sorry,” Howie said, helping him stand.

        “For what?” Chris asked.

        “I dropped the flutes.  I think they broke.”

        “That would be my fault,” Chris said.  “Can we get to the light switch without stepping on glass?”

        “I don’t know where the light switch is,” Howie admitted.

        “This is striking me as pretty funny,” Chris said.

        “Wait, I think…”  Howie felt along the wall, shuffling his feet carefully.

        “Don’t step on anything,” Chris said.

        “Whoa!  What’s that?  It feels like ice.”

        “Oh, that’d be my fault, again,” Chris said.  “I sort of threw the ice when I dropped the bucket.”

        “Where’s the champagne?”

        “Probably in a large puddle on the floor.  The bottle may have broken.  Slightly.”

        Howie laughed, then said, “I think this is it.”  Overhead lights came on, illuminating the room, allowing them to see that they’d littered the carpet with shards of glass, ice cubes, pools of ice and champagne, and the ice bucket.

        “Oops,” Chris said.

        “I guess we should clean this up,” Howie said.

        “No, no, don’t be silly,” Chris said.  “That’s why we have a maid.  Come along, upstairs, we still have work to do.”

        Howie laughed, reaching out a hand to guide him through the debris.  “Now you’re in favor of a maid.”

        “I’m in favor of hiring someone to take care of life’s minutiae for me so I can spend my time doing more important things,” Chris said.  “Like making love to my beautiful-perfect Howie.”

        “Well, thank you,” Howie said.

        “You know what?” Chris asked.

        “What?” Howie asked as they walked towards the stairs.

        “I think I need a personal assistant.”

        AJ looked up, sitting up, reaching for the remote and turning off the stereo.

        Kevin sat on the foot of the bed, taking off his shoes, his socks.

        AJ reached for his clothes.

        Kevin caught AJ’s wrist, slowly pulling AJ to himself.  He dragged AJ closer until AJ was almost within kissing distance, and draped AJ’s arm around his neck.

        “We need to talk,” AJ said.

        “I know,” Kevin said.  His touch was light as he raised AJ’s chin, gazing into AJ’s beautiful eyes.  “Ask me to fuck you.”

        “We have to talk,” AJ said.

        Kevin gently ran his knuckles along AJ’s cheek.  “Ask me to fuck you.”

        “After we talk,” AJ said.  “You can have me however you want me.”

        “Promise me,” Kevin said.

        “I promise,” AJ whispered.

        Kevin dropped his gaze.

        AJ pulled back.

        “I don’t believe you,” Kevin said.

        AJ stood, dressing.

        “Fuck,” Kevin said, rising, walking to the other side of the room.

        “What was that?” AJ asked.

        “You know what that was,” Kevin said.

        “That was you thinking if you don’t have me now, you might never get me again,” AJ said.  “Why? You think this little talk is going to be that bad?”

        “I don’t know how it’s going to go,” Kevin said.  “I’ve never accused you of being predictable.”

        “Do you really think that I’m going to walk out on you tonight?” AJ asked.  “Or are you going to throw me out?”

        Kevin leaned against the wall, avoiding AJ’s gaze.  “I don’t know.”  He raised his head.  “I don’t know what you’re thinking, AJ.  I don’t know why you did what you did today.”

        “I apologized to Chris!  Better late than never.”

        “He put his hand through a glass window!”

        “That was him, that was not me.  I didn’t expect that.  I didn’t lay a hand on him!  I was as shocked as you.”

        “What happened, AJ?  What did you say to him?”

        “I apologized!” AJ shouted.  “He didn’t accept it, and that’s fine, that’s his right, I have no problem with short and sweet having a problem with me.  That’s up to him.  But then he started going off, he said that it’s my fault everyone on the planet is unhappy, I’ve ruined everyone’s life.  And he said that it’s my fault that Howie and I got together, that pure perfect Howie would never do anything like that, so big bad evil me, I must have coerced him.  I kept my cool, I tried to reason it out, but he wasn’t into reason.  He told me that I, without any morals or any backbone, used Howie to push Lance away because I didn’t have the balls to face Lance like a man.”

        “You did,” Kevin said.

        “I don’t need him throwing that in my face!” AJ yelled.  “That’s me, my business, between me and Lance.  That’s not about Chris!  He has no right to speculate or to throw anything in my face.  I didn’t like it, I took offense, so I told him that Howie had no trouble forgetting about him, that when Howie was in bed under my body, he sure as hell wasn’t calling out Chris’s name.”

        “AJ,” Kevin said, shocked, disappointed.

        “I think I used the word ‘writhing,’” AJ said.

        “Howie and Chris are moving into a new home together,” Kevin said.  “They’re happy.  I think they’re really moving on.  After everything they’ve gone through, now that they’re finally rebuilding, you’re trying to tear them down again?”

        “What do you want from me?  Do you want me to ignore him getting in my face?  Do you want me to ignore him tearing me down?”

        “Chris has the right to vent a little,” Kevin said.  “You should have walked away.”

        “Maybe you forgot who you’re talking to,” AJ said.  “You strike, I strike back.”

        “Did you think about Howie?”

        “I was thinking about me,” AJ said.  “That’s my fault, my problem, and I’m going to be clear about than when I apologize.”

        “AJ, do you realize that if things go too far, Howie can cut you out?”

        “Howie and I are blood,” AJ said.  “He can’t end the Backstreet Boys.”

        “I’m not saying he will,” Kevin said.  “I know he won’t.  But he can change your friendship to a business partnership and not much more.”

        “Bullshit,” AJ said.  “It would be easier for him to get rid of Chris than get rid of me.”

        “Maybe logically, but it won’t happen that way,” Kevin said.

        “I think Justin was pointing me in that direction,” AJ said.  “He told me to get together with Chris and work it out.”

        “Justin?” Kevin asked.

        “Justin Jeffre.  I went over to his place today.”

        “You went to see Justin?” Kevin asked.

        “It was either that or Lance,” AJ said.  “I made the right choice there.”

        Kevin’s gaze darkened; he looked away.

        “I’m going to talk to Lance,” AJ said.  “I’m going to tell him that we can’t be in each other’s lives anymore.  I have to say good-bye to him if I want to keep you around, I know that.  I can’t lose you, Kevin.  Help me out here.  Tell me what I can do.”

        “It’s going to take time,” Kevin said.  “We’re going to have to weather a few crises together.  You’re going to have to stay faithful, and stay with me.  You’re right.  You have to get rid of Lance.  He’s poison.”

        “I have a whole checklist of assignments,” AJ said.  “Talk to Lance.  Talk to Chris.  Talk to Howie.  Do this with Kevin, do that for Kevin.  I’m going to make this work.”  He leaned his shoulder against the bedpost.  “Chris is very serious about Howie.  Impassioned.  Chris Kirkpatrick, that worked up over Howie.  I know myself.  I should be five times, ten times that worked up over you.  I haven’t been myself.  I’ve fumbled the ball so many times, I’m about to get traded.  To push a metaphor.”  AJ rubbed his neck.  “I don’t know, Kevin.  I love you so much it kills me on a daily basis, but if I don’t start showing you that, I’m going to lose you.”

        “It took us too long to get here,” Kevin said.  “We can’t waste time now that we’ve finally made it.”

        “I know,” AJ said.  “I’m going to work.  You know I’m one determined son-of-a-bitch when I want to be.  You know I don’t back down from a challenge.  This is going to happen.”

        Kevin walked over to him, and he leaned his back against the bedpost, unconsciously posing.  Kevin put a hand on AJ’s hip, bringing his pelvis forward, arching his back.  Kevin’s hand slid over the curve of AJ’s ass.  “Alex.”

        AJ looked at Kevin with cool calm.  “We had our little talk.”

        “Yes,” Kevin said, shedding his shirt.

        “I think our talk is over,” AJ said, not at all disturbed by Kevin moving ever closer.

        “Yes,” Kevin said, eyes glittering with dangerous focus, putting one hand on the bedpost, over AJ’s head.

        “I think it went all right,” AJ said.

        Kevin trailed his fingers down the front of AJ’s jeans, flicking open the top button of AJ’s fly.

        “You may just get the chance to fuck me again,” AJ said.

        “Now,” Kevin said.

        “I love our new house,” Howie said.  “Does it come with heat?”

        Chris laughed, reaching back to pull up the covers, getting more cosy with Howie’s body.  “Is that better?”

        “Yes, much,” Howie said, stroking his arms.

        “I still owe you one,” Chris said.

        “I won’t hold you to it,” Howie said.

        “No, I’m going to take care of it,” Chris said.  “Pass up an excuse to - - hell, no.”

        Howie laughed.  “Okay.  Go ahead.”

        “I wondered if we could make a deal,” Chris said, broaching the subject cautiously.

        “What kind of deal?” Howie asked, smoothing his eyebrows.

        “You can top all day tomorrow if you’ll let me fuck you again tonight.”

        “Chris, you can fuck me any time you want.  We don’t have to bargain for it.”

        “But it’ll be the third time today.”

        “That doesn’t matter.”

        “So I can do it?”

        “Of course you can do it.”

        Chris grinned.  “Yee-hah.”

        Howie’s finger traced the shell of Chris’s ear.  “Is there any reason you want to do that again?”

        Chris hesitated.  “It’s a…thing.  It’s nothing serious.  It’s…”

        “I’m yours,” Howie said.  “You want to feel that I’m yours, and you want me to feel it, too.”

        “Yeah,” Chris said.  “Like that.”

        Howie kissed him.  “I’m yours,” he said.  Another kiss, softer.  “Make love to me.”  Another kiss, even softer.  “Make me yours.”

        Chris loved Howie.  He wrapped Howie in his arms, kissing slowly, feeling his body begin to simmer.  His dick, which didn’t believe in simmering, thickened and lengthened, finding a nice spot on Howie’s hip to rub against.

         “Chris,” Howie said.

        “Hmm,” Chris said, trying to tame Howie’s tongue.

        “Mmm.”  Howie’s legs tangled with his, and Howie’s hands found his ass.  Chris deepened their kiss, stroking Howie’s thigh, rocking against Howie’s arousal.

        The level of heat in the room heightened slowly, but it very clearly heightened.  By the time Chris sank into Howie’s body, groaning with satisfaction at the warm haven, Howie was obviously close to orgasm.  Chris moved inside him slowly, watching him suffer towards completion.  When Howie’s moaning panting breaths began to echo orgasmic cries, and Howie’s face was tortured with pleasure, Chris took his erection in hand, giving him the final push over the edge.  Howie cried out, gripping Chris’s arm, jism shooting over his chest.  He said Chris’s name, relaxing his grip, closing his eyes.  With Chris’s next thrust, Howie made an overwhelmed “oh” sound.

        “You feel so good,” Chris said.  It was true; Howie felt amazing.  In addition to stretching and lubing Howie with his fingers, he’d stretched and lubed Howie with his dick and his cum twice that day, and now Howie was warm and wet, perfect on Chris’s dick.  Howie, beneath him, moaned.

        Chris held out as long as he could, watching Howie pant and moan beneath him, pushing back his own urge to come.  Finally, Chris gave in, unloading streams of cum deep inside Howie’s body, groaning out his pleasure.  Spent, exhausted, Chris rolled off of Howie, closing his eyes.

        Howie rolled over against him.

        Chris moaned.  That had felt too good.  He wouldn’t be able to get hard again for another day.

        Howie was asleep.

        Chris smiled and stroked Howie’s hair.