Copyright April 2, 2002-January 26, 2004 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.  It also is for Elizabeth and Jeff.

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.

        One thing Nick knew, from years of practicing with Kevin, was that if he wanted to annoy someone to the brink of insanity, he could.  Drew was irritating him, so he decided to irritate Drew right back.

        He tapped Drew’s nose.

        Drew smacked at his hand.

        Tap tap tap.

        Smack.

        Tap tap tap tap.

        Smack.

        Tap-tap-tap-

        Smack.

        Tap.

        Smack.

        Tap.

        Smack.

        Tap.

        Drew opened his eyes, glaring.  Daring him to try it, just one more time.

        Nick raised his hand, finger poised.

        Drew’s eyes narrowed, warning him.

        Tap.

        Drew shoved, then delivered a well-aimed kick, and Nick found himself off of the bed, on the floor.  He rubbed his hip, scowling.  “Bastard.”

        “Don’t call me names,” Drew said, and rolled over, like he was going back to sleep.

        Oh, hell, no.  Nick was up and on the bed, grabbing Drew, dragging him across the mattress.  Drew was strong, damn it, but Nick was bigger, and inch by inch, he got Drew closer to the edge.  Then Drew started to push him over the edge, and Nick had to figure out how to get rid of Drew without falling on his own ass.

        Damn it.  Drew had locked his thighs around Nick’s waist.  Those were some muscular fuckers.  There was no way Nick could pry Drew off of him now.  If Drew went over, he was going, too.  Unless…

        No, that wouldn’t be fair.

        Fuck fair.

        But Drew would be royally pissed at him.

        Oh, screw it.  Right on the edge of the bed, Nick rolled onto his back.  He yanked one hand free and grabbed Drew’s dick, jacking it with the exact grip he used when he wanted Drew to come in the next two seconds.

        Shocked, Drew forgot to fight him, thighs relaxing.

        Nick pushed.

        Drew hit the floor.  “Fuck!”

        The shower stopped.

        Nick helped Drew back onto the bed in one second flat.

        “He still has to dry off,” Drew remembered.  “And shave.  And brush his teeth.”

        Nick breathed again.  He met Drew’s eyes.  “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

        “Tell him how immature you are?” Drew asked.

        “I’m not immature, you’re bitchy,” Nick said.  “And don’t say ‘fuck.’”

        “I’m bitchy?” Drew repeated.

        “You’re short, too.  Six-year-olds are taller than you are.”

        “Six-year-olds are more mature than you are,” Drew said.

        “Kiss my ass,” Nick snapped.

        “You’re proving my point,” Drew said.

        “Okay, then, suck my dick.”

        Drew looked at him.

        “What?” Nick asked.

        “I’m thinking about it,” Drew said.

        “Thinking about what?” Nick asked, irritated.

        “Whether or not I want to suck your dick.”

        “Oh.”  Nick shut up.  He tried to smile.  “I’m sorry I said you were bitchy.  And I’m sorry that I pushed you down.  And I’m sorry I didn’t fight fairly.  And you are short, but you know I like it, I didn’t-”  He stopped speaking, because Drew was kissing him.  “Sometimes I just love you,” he said, and kissed Drew back, sliding Drew’s body closer, getting on top.

        “Hello,” Brian said.  “What’s happening?”

        “We’re fighting,” Drew said, rolling them over, slipping down a little to kiss Nick’s chest.

        “You look awfully friendly to be fighting,” Brian said.

        Nick groaned, closing his eyes.  He loved watching Brian and Drew together, but he hated to be the one watched.  Ordinarily, if anyone walked in on him kissing Drew, he wouldn’t care.  But Brian, specifically, watching Drew on him, it made him feel weird inside, it made him feel vulnerable, it made him feel like prey.  He knew that the more Brian watched, the more Brian would want to fuck him.  He did want Brian to fuck him; that wasn’t the problem.  The problem was being on display.  Being on sexual display, in front of someone who saw him very sexually already.

        Drew was stroking his cock with one hand, sucking oh so lightly on his balls.  Nick moaned, drawing his knees up, clenching his muscles.  God, he was hard, and Drew’s teasing touch was going to drive him out of his mind.  He cursed, moaning again, wishing Drew would just do it.

        Drew stopped.

        Nick opened his eyes, looking down at Drew.

        Drew smiled.  “How much of a bitch am I now?” he asked, and sucked down Nick’s dick.

        God, Drew, oh, fuck.  Nick dug his heels into the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, locking his mucles against each successive wave of too much pleasure that rocked his body.  He clenched his jaw, but a rhythmic, overwhelmed “ah, ah, ah” sound escaped his throat.  Drew’s knuckle pressed against his perineum and Drew hummed around his dick and his mouth opened on a cry and he came, silently blessing Drew on each heartbeat.

        Drew was crawling up his body again, licking at things along the way, making him shiver.

        “You know,” Nick said, “you just taught me that if I piss you off enough, you’ll give me head.”

        “Your brain works in mysterious ways,” Drew said, and kissed him.  “I have to go,” Drew whispered.

        “Go where?” Nick asked.

        Drew glanced over his shoulder.  “Brian’s looking at you like you’re a ten-course meal and he hasn’t eaten in a year.  I don’t want to get in the way.”

        “Don’t leave me,” Nick said, grabbing Drew’s wrist.

        “Are you kidding?” Drew asked.  “Watching this will be the highlight of my week.”

        “If you love me, you won’t leave me,” Nick said.  “I’ll suck your dick, I’ll let you fuck me, anything, come on.”

        “Good luck,” Drew whispered, and kissed him.  “Try not to scream when it feels too good.”

        He said it out loud.  “Will you marry me?”

        Too abrupt.  Howie was too romantic for anything that pedestrian.  He had to get it right.

        “Howie, will you marry me?”

        Too informal?

        “Howard Dwaine Dorough, will you marry me?”

        Too formal.  What, he had to distinguish between all of the Howies in the room by specifying Howie Dorough?

        “So, wanna get hitched?”

        Too abrupt again, and way too casual.

        Maybe he should preface it with a little speech-type thing.

        “I love you, and I want to, uh, get married…”

        Forget the speech.

        “Guess what?!”

        Too alarming.

        “Here, have a ring.”

        Too casual.

        “Remember me?”

        Stupid, stupid, stupid.

        “You know how, uh, sometimes when two people, um, gosh, I really like you.”

        He had all day to practice, yet somehow, considering the way things were going, he could already predict that he was going to end up handing the ring to Howie in silence.

        Maybe he could mime his proposal.

        He pulled into the driveway.  Clutching the ring box in one hand, he went to the front porch and rung the bell.

        Brian put one knee on the bed.

        Drew knew that Nick’s pulse was hammering.

        Brian braced his hands on the mattress, eyes intent on Nick.

        Nick, displaying a lot of guts for utter prey, slowly, lasciviously, licked his lips.

        Brian exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing their focus to Nick’s mouth.

        Nick smirked.

        Brian had more self-control than Drew did; Drew would have jumped Nick right then.

        The doorbell rang.

        Brian didn’t even blink.  “I’m not home,” he said.  “Neither is Nick.”

        Nick put one arm above his head, letting his other hand slide inch by inch down towards his groin.  “It’s Chris,” he told Drew without moving his eyes from Brian.

        Both Brian and Nick seemed to think that Drew was going to answer the door.  Drew was in no mental state to do anything but stay right where he was and watch Nick taunt Brian, who was deadly intent on fucking Nick into next month.  However, if whoever was at the door rang the bell again, it might distract them, and he couldn’t let that happen.  He yanked on what passed for clothes and hurried downstairs.

        Opening the door, he saw Chris.  “Hi.”

        “I need to talk to Brian,” Chris said.  He was so jittery he was almost bouncing in place.  “I need to talk to Nick, but I don’t want to admit that, so let’s pretend I just want to talk to Brian.”

        “They’re unavailable,” Drew said.

        “I’m proposing to Howie tonight and I have to talk to Nick before I propose to Howie and I’ll be at the studio all day so I’m doing it now and if you don’t let me in I’ll break in.”

        Drew hadn’t known why Chris was on his doorstep, but he hadn’t expected it to be for that.  “You’re proposing?”

        “Got a ring in a box just for the occasion,” Chris said, displaying it in one hand.

        If Brian and Nick had started - - “Come in,” Drew said, turning and running up the stairs.  “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, jogging into the room.  Brian had advanced up the bed, and was touching Nick’s soft lips.  Nick had his head tipped back and one knee up, both arms above his head now.  Drew had made it just in time.  “Chris is downstairs and he really needs to talk to both of you.”

        Nick tilted his head back further until Brian’s fingers left his mouth to trail over his chin and down his neck.  He relaxed and said, “Not home.”

        “Chris is going to propose to Howie tonight, and he really needs to talk to you,” Drew said.  “You know I wouldn’t interrupt this without a damned good reason.”

        Nick and Brian’s gazes were locked.

        “Brian,” Drew said.

        Brian’s hand moved from Nick’s chest to the mattress.

        “Brian,” Drew said again, more firmly.

        Nick closed his eyes, breaking their gaze, releasing Brian from his hold.

        Brian hesitated, then got off of the bed without touching Nick.  “Proposing to Howie?” he asked, accepting the clothes that Drew handed him.

        “Tonight,” Drew said.  “Nick.”

        “He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Nick said, rolling onto his side, looking at Drew with a challenge in his eyes.  “I’m staying up here with you.”

        Under normal circumstances, Drew would be crawling onto the bed at just that moment.  However, he reminded himself that putting Chris’, and possibly Howie’s, welfare aside for a sexual thrill, wasn’t really the most ethical decision, even though no one could really blame him for it.  “He specifically said that he wants to talk to both of you.”

        “Shit.”  Nick sat up.  “He’s proposing to Howie?  Our Howie?”

        “Howie may be Chris’s Howie, now,” Drew said.

        “God, what if Howie says yes?” Nick asked.

        “Don’t you want him to?” Drew asked, handing Nick clothes.

        “He can’t marry Chris,” Nick said.  “He can’t marry into a lesser boy band.  He’d lose all respect.”

        “I know that my reputation took a big hit when I married into the Backstreet Boys,” Drew agreed.

        “Very funny,” Nick said.  “Hey, when are we getting married?”

        “We haven’t set a date,” Drew said, looking from Nick to Brian.  “We should decide when, where, and how.”

        “We could hire someone to do everything for us, this time,” Nick said, pulling on his T-shirt.  “Don’t say no right away,” he said to Drew quickly, putting out his hand.  “Think about it for at least thirty seconds first.  Now let’s go find out what Kirkpatrick wants.”

        “Chris told us yesterday,” Joey said.  “I would have told you last night, but I had other things on my mind.”

        “Like what?” Lance asked, stirring his cereal.

        Joey smiled, shrugging.  “Like having sex with you.”

        Lance chuckled.

        “It’s hard to imagine Chris being married,” Joey said.

        “It’ll be hard to imagine it, five years into it,” Lance said.

        “Everyone’s doing the name change thing,” Joey said.  “Chris Dorough-Kirkpatrick?”

        Lance shuddered.  “I hope not.”

        “How do they decide whose name goes first, when it’s two men?” Joey asked.

        “Whatever they think sounds better,” Lance said.  “Kirkpatrick-Dorough sounds better than Dorough-Kirkpatrick, but I wouldn’t do either one.”

        “You’re not into hyphenation?” Joey asked.

        “My name’s served me pretty well this far,” Lance said.

        “Lance Bass,” Joey said.  “I like it.”

        “Yeah?” Lance asked.

        Joey smiled.  “Yeah.”

        “You’re proposing to Howie?” Nick asked.

        “I’m doing it tonight, and if you let him find out, I’ll behead you,” Chris threatened.

        “I can keep your little secret,” Nick said.  “As long as I don’t talk to Howie today.  What do you want?”

        “I’m not good enough for Howie and I don’t know what to do about that,” Chris said.

        “Sit down,” Brian said, gently pushing Chris back into the armchair, sitting on the sofa.  “Over there,” he said to Nick, gesturing to another chair, unwilling to let Nick share the sofa with him.  He wanted to focus on helping Chris, not on helping himself to Nick.

        “You’re always worried about stuff, like whether your dick’s bigger than AJ’s,” Nick said to Chris.  “Insecurity isn’t sexy, confidence is sexy.  Whatever size your dick is, he came back to it after he’d been with AJ, so he must like it.”

        “Chris, no one is inherently good enough or not good enough,” Brian said.  “No one deserves a certain boyfriend or a promotion or a new pair of pants because he’s good enough.  You deserve it because of what you’ve done to get it, what you’re going to do once you have it, things like that.”

        “Right,” Nick said.  “There’s not like a hierarchy of who’s good enough for who, that’s all crap.  No one ever said I was good enough for Drew, I just know I’m going to treat him right and try to be the best for him that I can be.”

        “If someone beats his wife, he’s not worthy of her love and devotion, but that’s a choice he decided to make,” Brian said.  “If you make loving, caring decisions, then you’re making a conscious choice to be worthy.  If you don’t consciously choose not to be worthy, then you’ll always be worthy, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

        “It’s all in your actions,” Nick said.

        “Be good to Howie, be good for Howie, and you’re fine,” Brian said with a small smile.

        “Besides, it’s not like oh, you have to be worthy of Howie,” Nick said.  “You’re good enough for any great guy.”

        “What?” Chris asked, more stunned by who had said it, than by what had been said.

        “You might even have been good with Justin, if JC hadn’t taken over,” Nick said.

        “Since JC’s intervened, you’ll have to settle for Howie,” Brian teased.

        “Settle?” Chris repeated.  “That’s not settling, that’s hitting the jackpot.  Howie is my sun god.”

        “Sure he is,” Nick said.  “You’re proposing tonight?  What are you going to say?”

        “I have no idea,” Chris said.  “I figure ‘marry me’ might get the idea across, but it’s not as eloquent as I’d like.”

        “You could try ‘Howard Dwaine Dorough, will you marry me,’” Nick suggested.

        “Nothing wrong with a classic,” Brian agreed.

        “Or you could just hand it to him,” Nick said.  “He’ll know what it’s for.  If he doesn’t, he’ll ask.”

        “Yeah, that’s good advice,” Chris said, standing.

        “Explain to him why you want to be with him forever,” Brian said.  “You bought that shirt, but you don’t want to be with it forever.  You bought a car, you put a lot of thought into which one, you paid good money for it - - but you’re not going to keep it forever.  Howie, you want to be with forever.  Tell him why.”

        “Howie’s been very clear about wanting to marry me,” Chris said.  “He’s going to think I’m doing it because I feel sorry for him, or just to make him happy.”

        “You do want to make him happy,” Brian said.  “But if Howie didn’t want to get married, or hadn’t said anything about it, would you still want to marry him?”

        “Yes,” Chris said.

        “Why?” Nick asked.

        “For a lot of reasons,” Chris said, not wanting to share his personal thoughts with Nick.

        “Explain those reasons to Howie,” Brian said.

        “Tell him why I like him more than my car or my shirt, and tell him why I want to marry him even if he doesn’t want to marry me,” Chris said.  “Got it.  That has the makings of a good proposal, there.”  He stood, slightly less fidgety now.  “Thanks.”

        “Good luck tonight,” Brian said, walking with him to the door.

        “You think he’ll say yes?” Nick asked Chris.

        “He’ll say yes,” Brian said to Chris.

        “He will?” Chris asked, wanting assurance.

        “He will,” Brian said, squeezing his arm.

        “Thanks for the talk,” Chris said.

        “Any time,” Brian said.  “When can we come over to see your new place?”

        “We’re having a housewarming,” Chris said.  “Possibly tomorrow night, if all goes well tonight.”

        “Doesn’t that mean we have to buy something?” Nick asked.

        “The problem would be you can’t afford anything, or you don’t have all day free to go buy something?” Brian asked.

        “Don’t be rude to me in front of other people,” Nick said.  “Or in front of him.”

        “Good luck tonight,” Brian said again.

        “Thanks,” Chris said, and left.

        Brian closed the door, then found himself spun around and pushed against it.  “Hi,” Nick said, leaning in, hands on his hips pinning him to the door, Nick’s smile hovering inches from Brian’s mouth.

        “Why do you talk to him like that?” Brian asked, raising his own shirt.

        Nick’s hands slid up Brian’s torso.  “He’s an easy target.”  He lowered his head and nipped Brian’s earlobe with his teeth.  He whispered, softly, “So’s your ass.”

        Brian laughed, closing his eyes.  “You shouldn’t have…done that,” he said, his breath coming quick and uneven.

        “What?” Nick asked.  “This?”  He grazed Brian’s earlobe with his teeth.  Brian moaned; Nick smirked.  “Feels good, doesn’t it?  Makes you want to…give in.”

        Brian tilted his pelvis forward, offering, his hands rising to Nick’s chest.

        “I’ve watched Drew train you,” Nick said.  He shifted, putting his voice in Brian’s other ear.  “I know how to make you mine.”  His hands slid down Brian’s bared sides, over Brian’s hips, over Brian’s ass.  Down Brian’s thighs, then up again, squeezing gently, up to Brian’s fly.

        Brian opened his eyes, about to speak.

        “No, no,” Nick said, putting his index finger to Brian’s lips.  “Ssshhh.”  He lowered his finger.  “Ssshhh.”

        Brian parted his lips.

        “This is my,” he popped the button on Brian’s jeans, “time to talk.”  He unzipped Brian’s fly.  “Not yours.  I know, you don’t think it’s right for me to take control.  You belong to Drew, and I belong to you, and you don’t think you’re ready for me to be in control when I’m with you.”

        Nick’s hands were raising Brian’s shirt further; Nick whispered in Brian’s ear, “Arms up.”  Brian’s arms rose, and Nick removed his shirt.

        “But I’ve been paying attention,” Nick said, resuming his monologue as his hands travelled Brian’s newly naked upper body.  “I think that you like giving up control.  I think that you’re learning how good it can be to let someone else take over for a while.  I think it’s about time I got to be that someone.”

        “You-”

        “Ssshhh,” Nick said again, touching Brian’s lips.  “My turn to talk, remember?  You can talk when I ask you a direct question and wait for your response.  I know you like everything neat and tidy and under control, but you know that I don’t.  I like a little…chaos.”

        Brian moaned when Nick’s thumbs rubbed his nipples.  His eyes closed over the pleasure.

        “Don’t get me wrong,” Nick said.  “You make a very good top.  You get this look in your eyes, and I know I’m in for it, and all I want is to make it good for you.  I don’t have to worry about it being good for me.  You always make damned sure it’s good for me.  But if we stay in these defined little roles and stop venturing out of them, what’s going to happen?  What about Drew?  It’s not fair to him that he can’t take me over the way you can.  You know he’s aching inside, wanting to fuck me the way you do.”

        Brian’s gaze flickered over Nick’s shoulder, to the staircase.

        “Don’t look at him,” Nick said, taking Brian’s chin in hand.  “You look at me.”

        Brian’s gaze, turned on Nick, was sexually heated, but refused to submit.  Brian had yet to give in to Nick fully.

        Nick smiled.  The game turned Brian on, but that was all it was, a game.  He could never take over Brian the way Drew did, because his heart beat Brian’s name too intensely, too painfully, for him ever really to have the upper hand.

        He kissed Brian, his hand sliding inside Brian’s open fly, groping Brian through underwear.  Brian kissed him back with equal aggression, refusing to submit but at the same time not claiming dominance.  It was a kiss of equals, and Nick liked meeting Brian halfway.  It made him feel more respected, more of a partner, more of an adult.

        “Be late for work today,” Nick urged.

        Brian was rubbing Nick’s arms, pulling on Nick’s shoulders to bring him closer to Brian’s kiss.  “I can’t,” he said.

        Nick broke their kiss, panting slightly against Brian’s mouth.  “Tiebreaker,” he said.

        Drew reached around Nick, cupping the back of Brian’s neck.  He pressed his lips to Brian’s.  “We’ll try not to keep you all day,” he promised, and led the way upstairs.

        “A dozen red roses for Mr. Dorough.”

        Howie didn’t know what to think.  He accepted the flowers, setting them on the table in the foyer.  They were perfect.  Who would be sending him flowers?  He opened the card.

        Right now, no matter what else is going on, I’m thinking about you, and I’m happy to be doing it.  Love, Chris

        Chris.  Chris had sent him flowers.  Chris had sent him roses.  No one ever gave Howie roses.  Not girlfriends or lovers, not as a personal sign of romantic affection.

        Chris knew how much he enjoyed giving roses, and somehow, Chris had known how much he’d enjoy getting them, too.  Howie truly was touched.  It was a beautiful sentiment.  Thoughtful, and personal.  Chris knew him.  Chris cared about him.  Chris loved him.

        Howie picked up the phone, dialing.

        “Hi, this is Chris’s v-mail.  Leave a message.”

        “Chris, it’s Howie.  Thank you for the roses.  I love you.  I’m looking forward to tonight.”  He hung up, smiling, and touched the petals.  They really were perfect.  They were from Chris.

        Warm Howie love feelings.

        Now if he could just find a good proposal, he’d be set.  He looked at what he’d written, and scratched it out.  Everything he could think of sucked.  He had a lot to say, but he couldn’t make it sound eloquent.  If he fumbled the proprosal, Howie would understand and forgive, but that didn’t make it okay.  He wanted it to be perfect for Howie.  Howie would have made it perfect for him.

        Howie had proposed with, “Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick, will you marry me?”  But he’d interrupted at that point.  It was highly possible that Howie had intended to say more after that.

        He wrote lyrics that were heard by millions of people, and some of those people were highly critical.  Why couldn’t he write a few sentences to be heard by one set of ears?

        Because those ears were Howie’s ears.  Howie’s very nice ears that he loved very much.  The things that Howie said to his ears were good things that made him feel loved, and he wanted to return the favor.

        He didn’t know why he was putting himself under this amount of pressure.  It was practically guaranteed that Howie would say yes.  After all, it had been made perfectly clear that Howie wanted to marry him, and was waiting only for a go-ahead to make it happen.  The only way Howie would not marry him was if Howie met someone new before their dinner date, or if he offended Howie horribly or made it seem as though he were proposing for the wrong reasons.  Those things would only come to pass if he said something stupid.

        Hence the pressure, and the strong urge not to wing the most important speech of his life.

        “Good luck,” Kevin said, setting the phone on the nightstand, turning onto his stomach on the bed.  “However he reacts, I know that you’re sincere, and Howie will recognize that, too.”

        “Yeah,” AJ said, pulling on his shirt.  “Yeah, I hope so.”  He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes and socks.  “I don’t know if there’s a point of forgiveness that I’ve bulldozed right over and can never get back to.”

        “Does Chris know that you want to talk to him?” Kevin asked.

        “No.  I figure if he doesn’t know ahead of time, he can’t have his defenses up and ready.”

        “He’s a good guy,” Kevin said.  “Weird, but good.  He won’t totally shut you out if you can show him you’re serious about changing things.”

        “I hope you’re right,” AJ said, twisting around and planting a kiss on Kevin’s cheek.  “Thanks for your support,” he added.

        “You always have my support,” Kevin said.

        AJ knelt on the mattress and kissed him again.  “Then I’ll have to work to deserve that.”

        “Setting up for a shoot for the Fools,” Lance said.

        “And?”

        “And why are you asking?” Lance asked.

        “We could hang out,” Joey said.

        “I have to make these calls,” Lance said.  “I’m going in to the office.”  He hesitated, latching the dishwasher door.  “But after that, I’m free.”

        “Come over to my place this afternoon,” Joey invited.

        “Will Justin be there?” Lance asked.

        “Are you trying to avoid him?” Joey asked.

        “Yes,” Lance said.

        “You can’t,” Joey said.  “Not forever.”

        “How about for today?” Lance asked.

        “I don’t know,” Joey said.  “How is avoiding him going to help?”

        “I’ll come over if he’s not there,” Lance said.  “If he’s there when I get there, I’ll turn right back around.”

        “You’re okay with JC, you’re fine with Chris, what’s wrong with Justin?” Joey asked.

        “I’m not ready to deal with him,” Lance said.

        “Why not?” Joey asked.

        “Do you worship me?” Lance asked suddenly.

        “What?” Joey asked, taken by surprise.

        “Do you worship me?” Lance demanded.

        “Do I worship - - you’re not God, Lance,” Joey said.  “I love you.  Worship, that’s a strong word.”

        “Oh, you love me,” Lance said, nodding.  “Guess what, Joey?” he asked harshly.  “I don’t want your love.  I want Justin’s life.  I want to be what Justin is and have what Justin has.  I don’t just mean that I want JC.  I want the total package.  The adoration, the obsession, the worship. I want someone to look after me the way JC looks after Justin.  Justin can never do wrong in JC’s eyes.  Justin knows, every second of every day, that he is loved and adored.  I want that.  I want someone to put me at the center of the universe.”

        “You’re at the heart of my world,” Joey said.

        “Am I?” Lance asked, a challenge.

        “Yes,” Joey said.  “You are.  You’re my lover, my best friend, my boyfriend, and my job.  Everything depends on you.  I want to make you happy.  I want to make you feel alive again.”

        “I feel fine,” Lance said firmly.  “Do you worship me?”

        “No,” Joey said.  “I love you.”

        “What good is that supposed to do me?” Lance asked.

        “That’s up to you,” Joey said.

        Lance sighed, resting his hip against the kitchen table.  “I’ll come over this afternoon, after I’m finished at the office.”

        “Would you feel better if I admitted that I am a little obsessed with you?” Joey asked, taking Lance’s hand and drawing him closer.

        “Are you?” Lance asked, letting Joey’s hands roam his body.

        “I’m a little obsessed,” Joey admitted, and kissed him.

        Lance kissed back, letting his hands roam, also.  A few minutes into it, as his hand slipped between Joey’s legs, he jumped back in surprise.  “Underwear.”

        “It’s dirty from last night,” Joey said.  “It’s okay.  We’re having Freeball Friday a few days early.”

        Lance gave Joey a wary look, moving in again, placing his hands on Joey’s ass.  “Warn me next time.”

        “Why don’t you take off your underwear to match?” Joey asked, toying with the zipper to Lance’s fly.

        “You’re not getting me out of my clothes,” Lance said.

        “Just for a few minutes,” Joey said, taking Lance’s mouth in long, bold kisses.

        “Joey, I told you I have to go to the office,” Lance said.

        “Are you trying to say no?” Joey asked, lifting his head.

        Lance breathed, looking up at him.  “I don’t know.”

        “Okay,” Joey said, and kissed him again.

        Going into the studio, bag in hand, AJ found Chris indeed alone, muttering to himself, scribbling on a sheet of paper.  Chris looked up, saw him, and hastily crumpled the paper.

        “You’re early,” Chris said.  It was obvious that he wasn’t much relishing the idea of being alone with AJ.

        “Can we talk?” AJ asked.  There was a glittering, slim diamond choker around Chris’s neck.  It wasn’t something that Chris would buy for himself, but it did seem right up Howie’s alley.  AJ was glad that Howie had someone to lavish romance on, who wouldn’t either take it for granted or make demands for more.

        “About what?” Chris asked.

        Still standing before the table where Chris sat, AJ set the bag on the tabletop.  “I bought something for you.”

        “You bought something for me,” Chris repeated slowly, staring at the bag as though it were a strange, foreign object.

        “I didn’t know what you might want, so I asked Justin.”

        Trusting Justin, at least, if not AJ, Chris slid the bag closer to himself.  From it he took a brown cardboard shipping box.  AJ already had opened the box to verify its contents.  Chris lifted the gift from that box, and froze into utter stillness.

        AJ waited for the verdict.

        Chris stared at the packaging, then its contents.  It was a Robo Battle Combat Zoid, the green one, Znort.  According to Justin, Chris had so desperately wanted one for Christmas one year, he’d raised the money for it himself, just to be sure he’d get it.  But then bills had come due, and Chris had selflessly offered his hard-earned money to a greater cause.  He never had gotten that coveted Znort.

        AJ almost hadn’t gotten the toy, because apparently the subject was so bitterly painful for Chris, Justin was the only one who knew about it.

        “Original packaging,” Chris said softly, without moving his eyes.

        AJ was sure that Chris had spent hours staring at the box, longing for the toy inside.  If it had been new packaging for a reissue, Chris would have noticed.

        “Znort,” Chris said.  “The Mighty Znort.”  He held the box gingerly in his hands.  “Never opened?”

        “Never opened,” AJ confirmed.  “I found a collector on-line.  If you want the rest of the set, he may be open to negotiations.”

        “How much…?”

        “Not enough,” AJ said.  “I still owe you.”

        “Owe me what?” Chris asked, finally tearing his eyes from The Mighty Znort.

        “An apology,” AJ said.  “Several of them.”

        Chris nodded slightly, confirming that.

        AJ pulled out a seat and sat across from him.  “I’m sorry for betraying you and Lance.  I’m sorry that I never took you into consideration and never showed you any respect.  I’m sorry for every time I made light of what had happened or thought that people were overreacting.  You had a right to every last drop of the pain I caused you.  I’m sorry for what happened last time I thought I was apologizing.  How’s your hand?”

        “Better,” Chris said, flexing his fingers.  “It’ll be all right.”

        “I’ve had a serious case of ‘the world revolves around me,’” AJ said.  “I did whatever I wanted, and I didn’t care who I left in the dust.  That wasn’t fair to a lot of people.  It was wrong, and a lot of people got shitty treatment because of it.  I’m sorry for that.  I want to show you that I can respect you and show you consideration, the way I should have all along.”

        “Why?” Chris asked.

        “I don’t want to be that person anymore,” AJ said.  “I’m changing, and I want to prove that, to every one of you and to myself.  If I don’t change, I might lose Kevin.  And I might lose Howie.”

        Chris, probably thinking that Kevin and certainly Howie would be better off without AJ, looked down at Znort and said nothing.

        AJ had to step up to the plate and say what he had to say.  Otherwise, this moment would pass, and he’d lose what was probably his last opportunity to salvage any kind of acquaintanceship with Chris.  “If I keep riding the ‘I’m the only person in the world’ train, I might lose all of my friends, and I really can’t afford to do that.  I have to change things quick, now, because I’ve been a complete asshole to you and everyone else, and I can’t stand living inside my own skin anymore.  I’ve spent years only thinking about myself.  When I betrayed you and Lance, I was only thinking about myself.  I didn’t think of you and your relationship with Howie.  Even after it all blew up in my face, I never thought about you.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, I wasn’t intentionally out to get you, but I hurt you, I jacked you over pretty hard, because I couldn’t look outside myself, and that’s a pretty incredible act of egotism.  I know that I can’t change any of what you went through.  You and Howie are still dealing with it, and I can’t fix that for you or for him, no matter how much I want to.  But I wanted to do something for you now, today, because I wasn’t thinking of you then or afterward.  I do think about you now,  and I know that what I do affects you.  I’m not asking you to accept my apology, because that’s unreasonable.  I’m hoping that maybe in time I can earn some of your trust, along with everyone else’s.”

        Emotions like surprise and distrust had flickered over Chris’s face during AJ’s words, but he said nothing.

        “You and I have a lot in common,” AJ said.  “Especially Howie.  He’s caught between us, and he shouldn’t be.  Can we work out something to make his life easier?”

        “We could write out a schedule of when he can be your friend and when he can be with me,” Chris suggested.

        “And if the Boys call a meeting during your time?” AJ asked, knowing that Chris hadn’t meant it but was trying to buy time before responding to what AJ had said.

        “Either he can’t go to the meeting, or you can’t,” Chris said.

        “And when he’s on tour?”

        “Stop poking holes in my plan,” Chris muttered.  He looked at the box some more.

        AJ sat back, giving Chris time to think.

        Chris began to sing something under his breath.  It sounded like it might have been the Robo Battle Combat Zoid theme song.

        “I know how much he loves you,” AJ said.  “If we keep going in the direction we’re going, and we force him to choose, he’ll choose you.”

        “Then wouldn’t it be in my best interests to push him to that point?” Chris asked.

        “No,” AJ said.  “You love Howie, and you want him to be happy, and for maximum happiness, he needs to be able to keep both of us in his life.  You know that, and you showing mercy is all I have going for me.  You’re holding all of the cards right now.”

        “Which means that we have to find a compromise and pretend to get along,” Chris said.

        “No more pretending,” AJ said.  “I want to be honest with both of you, as much as I can.”

        “We’re throwing ourselves a housewarming,” Chris said.  “Possibly tomorrow night.”

        “Are you telling me that to warn me not to crash it?” AJ asked.

        “I’m telling you to come to it as a guest,” Chris said.  “Everyone else will be there, even Lance.  But if you weren’t there, Howie would miss you all evening, and I want him to be happy.”

        “You’re inviting me to your housewarming?” AJ asked, surprised.

        “Yes,” Chris said.  “I am.”

        “That’s a smack on the ass,” AJ said.

        “Happy to provide quality service,” Chris said.

        The one time he’d been in that house, he’d stormed out after a nasty fight.  All right, technically, Chris had thrown him out.  And now Chris was inviting him to a celebration of Chris and Howie’s new house, which, when it came right down to it, was a celebration of Chris and Howie making a real commitment and setting up a life together.  One person moving in with someone else, that was shacking up, it was a level of commitment but it wasn’t exactly marriage.  Buying a house together, moving into it together, that was another, higher level of commitment.  That really meant something.  Chris and Howie were together, and they were banking on staying that way.

        “This was hard to find, wasn’t it?” Chris asked, looking at Znort again.

        “Yes,” AJ said.  He’d found one Znort on-line, out of the box, and he’d had a few other suggestions from Justin, but he’d been bound and determined to get that one exact product, in pristine condition.  Every time he’d thought about giving up, or settling for something lesser, he’d thought of Kevin standing behind him, and Howie, and Chris shouting, “Do you even realize what you’ve done?!”  No, he hadn’t realized, but now he did.  Now he finally, really was beginning to see, and to repent.

        “Do something for me,” Chris said.

        “Whatever you want,” AJ said.  Honest humility was new, but he could accept it as his due.

        “Don’t talk to Howie today.  Tomorrow, and any day after that, but not today.  Not tonight.”

        It was a test, in a way.  He could see, from the intensity of Chris’s gaze, that it was very important that he not speak to Howie today.  Something was happening between Chris and Howie, something that he might be able to unbalance.  If he wanted to hurt Chris, or if he wanted to play power games, he could call Howie, or visit Howie, or even tell the other guys that he wanted Howie to call him.  If he did that, he’d lose any chance of making things halfway right with Chris.  Or, if he respected Chris’s wishes, he wouldn’t automatically win over Chris’s trust, but he would make it possible for Chris to consider not hating him.  “I’ll avoid him like the plague.”

        Chris sat up a little straighter.  “Good.”

        “A dozen red roses for Mr. Dorough.”

        Déjà vu.  “I already got them.  Someone was already here, an hour ago.”

        “A dozen red roses for Mr. Dorough.”

        “They’re beautiful, but I don’t want to take them if he only paid for one dozen, the first dozen.  Maybe you should call your office.”

        “A dozen red roses for Mr. Dorough.”

        Either the florist was hiring robots, or this guy was dead set on delivering those flowers, come hell or high water.  Regardless, he showed no signs of leaving until Mr. Dorough had accepted the roses.  “Well, thank you,” Howie said, taking them from him.  “Thanks.”  The deliveryman left, and Howie closed the door.  He hadn’t wanted to make the florist lose money or screw up their inventory, but now that he had the flowers, he liked them.  They were a gorgeous shade, and they smelled heavenly.

        And there was another card.  Surprised, Howie plucked it from the bouquet.  This one was in Chris’s handwriting, too.  The delivery hadn’t been a mistake, after all.  Chris really had sent him flowers twice.

        I love the way you kiss.  Love, Chris

        Howie smiled.  He called Chris, and got voice mail again.  Touching the petals, he said, “I just got another dozen roses, Chris, my love.  Thank you.  I love you.”

        “Wear different shoes!” Jeff shouted from the bedroom.

        His fingers brushed something.  What the - - he pulled out a water bottle.  It was impossible to keep a clean house, living with Jeff.  Where was his shoe?!  His fingers found a shoelace.  Ah!  He tugged.

        Jeff appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing underwear and a T-shirt, watching him.  “They’ll forgive you for being a few minutes late.”

        Nick pulled his sneaker from beneath the sofa.  “I’m representing 98 Degrees.  I wanted to be as professional as possible.”

        “You’re representing Nick Timmons-Lachey,” Jeff said.

        Broken coffee table, shoes under the furniture - - they’d had a pretty good night last night.  They’d had a pretty damned good morning, too, which was why Nick was running late.  He frowned.  “Is my-”

        Jeff held up his wallet.

        “Thanks.”  He took it, giving Jeff a kiss in return.  “Tonight’s dinner at Drew’s?”

        “Yes,” Jeff said, pulling him back in for a better kiss.

        “Okay.”  Nick got the keys.  “See you tonight, then.”

        Jeff kissed him.

        Nick closed his eyes, forgetting himself in Jeff’s kiss.  His left hand was on Jeff’s back, keeping Jeff’s body close to his; his right hand was on Jeff’s arm, pulling Jeff nearer and then to the side as he pushed Jeff against the back of the armchair.  Jeff’s hands caught his hips, bringing their groins together, and he groaned into Jeff’s mouth, his blood running hot at the opportunity to rub his arousal against Jeff’s.

        “You have to go,” Jeff said, his voice rough and breathy, as Nick’s hands tugged down the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

        Nick claimed Jeff’s mouth, pulling down Jeff’s underwear, filling his hands with the tight, hard muscle of Jeff’s thighs and ass.

        Jeff turned his head to the side, breaking their kiss, smacking away Nick’s hands and jerking his underwear back up.  “Studio,” he reminded Nick.

        What?  Oh.  Right.  Nick licked his lips, moving back a step.  “Right.”

        “Have a good day,” Jeff said, waiting for him to leave.

        “Right.”  He walked towards the door, then turned.  “Jeff?”

        “Yeah?” Jeff asked, running his hand through his uncombed hair.

        “What are you wearing tonight?”

        “Just us, so far,” AJ said.

        “As far as anyone else knows, I was here five minutes early,” Justin said.

        “It’ll be our secret,” Chris said.

        Justin sat at the table with them.  “Who’s this?” he asked, looking at Chris’s new toy.

        “The Mighty Znort, meet Justin,” Chris introduced.

        “Robo Battle Combat Zoids,” Justin marvelled.  “I remember them.  They still make those?”

        “Discontinued in 1982,” AJ said.

        “You remember these?” Chris asked Justin.

        “Are you kidding?  When I was seven, I got Komodor for Christmas,” Justin said.

        “The red one?” Chris asked.

        “I always wanted Znort,” Justin said.  “Nick had, was Trivitar the blue one?”

        “Trivitar was yellow,” Chris said.  “Blue was…Zepper.”

        “Nick had Zepper, but Drew broke it.”

        “He broke Zepper?” Chris asked, shocked.

        “I think he was four,” Justin said.  “Zepper had all of those moving parts.  Nick can’t tell the story without getting mad at him.”

        “Zepper was invincible,” Chris said, still hurt.

        “The Invincible Zepper,” Justin remembered.

        “The Mighty Znort,” Chris said.

        “The Awesome Komodor,” Justin said.  “What was Trivitar?”

        “The Terrible Trivitar,” Chris said.

        “Did you watch their TV show?” Justin asked.

        “Every Saturday,” Chris said.  He started the theme song.  Justin, smiling, joined in.

        The door opened, and Nick entered.  After frowning for a second, he said, “Robo Battle Combat Zoids!”

        “Warriors from the ultimate realm,” Justin said.

        “Say hello to The Mighty Znort,” Chris said.

        “I always wanted Znort,” Nick said.  “I got Zepper for my birthday, but then Drew got his hands on it.  Then I got in trouble for getting mad at him!”

        “The way I heard it, you got in trouble because you shoved him to the floor,” Justin said.

        “I pushed him because he hit me.  It’s not like he was crying, or anything.”

        “Didn’t you hit him first?”

        “He broke Zepper!  Zepper was invincible until Drew came along.”

        “Zepper had complicated but delicate moving parts,” Justin said.  “Drew was four.”

        “He did it on purpose,” Nick said.

        “He’s always seemed like a naturally vicious, destructive person,” Justin said.

        “He was mad at me because I had my birthday party with my friends at the skating rink, and I made him stay at home,” Nick said.  “He was four!  I didn’t want him hanging around.”

        “You didn’t want him hanging around, but when he got into a special high school, you had to get in, too.”

        “That was years later,” Nick said.  “Besides, I couldn’t let him do better than me.”

        “I’m glad I’m an only child,” AJ said.

        “He didn’t have to take another shower,” Nick said.

        “Yes, he did,” Drew said.  “I only have one sock.”

        “At least he doesn’t have to shave again,” Nick said, retrieving Brian’s lost sock from the hallway.

        “Can you go put his bag and his guitar by the door?” Drew asked.

        “He’s not that late,” Nick said.

        “He’s going to be an hour late,” Drew said.  “Maybe more.”

        “JC’s late all of the time,” Nick said.

        “The only way that makes this okay is if JC’s even later than Brian today, and that’s not likely,” Drew said.

        Another thrust, and from the point of penetration, pleasure rippled out, up, all over JC, all through him, stronger and stronger, louder and louder, until with one reveberation, orgasm hit.  He called out Justin’s name, feeling the aftershocks of it, letting his nerves sizzle and calm, letting the last shudders out.  Justin was still moving over him, moving within him, and JC opened his eyes.

        Justin held JC’s hips still and slowly eased back, separating their bodies with a pop.  He lowered JC’s legs, turning to reach for something on the nightstand.  He turned back, JC’s new ankle bracelets in hand.  “Gold or diamond?” he asked.

        “Gold,” JC said, watching Justin’s eyes.

        Justin set the diamond one aside, then raised JC’s leg, kissing the ankle, kissing the calf, bracing JC’s naked foot against his shoulder.  He draped the bracelet over JC’s ankle, fastening the clasp.

        JC’s heart vibrated.

        “I love you, JC,” Justin said softly, moving in closer, sliding JC’s leg farther over his shoulder.  JC absorbed the impact of Justin’s love, and then Justin entered him again, a smooth even thrust, and he felt a new ripple of pleasure begin to rise and spread.

        Brian caught the keys, reaching for the bag Nick was offering.  “I’ll be home as soon as we’re done, to get ready for dinner.”

        “We’ll take care of it,” Nick assured him.

        “I love you both,” Brian said, giving them quick kisses, picking up his guitar case.  “Bye.”

        “Bye,” Nick said, opening the door for him.  Brian was out quickly, and Nick closed the door.  “You’re cooking, right?” Nick asked Drew.

        “I’ll call for food,” Drew said.  “You clean the - - no, you call for food, and I’ll clean.”

        “Let’s have a theme for tonight,” Nick said.

        “A theme?” Drew asked.

        “Yeah.”

        “Like what?” Drew asked, clearly skeptical.

        “Like…I don’t know…togas,” Nick said.

        “Togas,” Drew repeated.  “In your dreams.  Call Korchetti’s.”

        Heading for the kitchen, Nick smacked Drew’s ass in passing.

        “What was that for?” Drew asked, glancing back at the offended spot.

        “Sassing me.”

        “I’m not allowed to sass you?” Drew asked in disbelief, watching Nick turn the corner.

        Nick’s voice floated back to him: “Not if you don’t want to get your ass spanked.”

        “You’re spanking me now?” Drew asked, coming into the kitchen, where Nick was leaning over the table, paging through the phone book.

        “Yep,” Nick said.  “So watch it.”

        Drew shook his head.  “What?  Why?”

        “You want to spank me,” Nick said.

        Drew looked everywhere but at Nick’s ass.  “What?”

        “I heard you talking to Brian.”

        “You were asleep,” Drew said.

        “Mostly,” Nick said.

        “You heard us?” Drew asked.

        “How do you spell Korchetti’s?” Nick asked.  “Oh, never mind.  Wait, there are three of them.”

        “I didn’t mean…”  Drew didn’t know what to say.

        “That one’s the whole way across town,” Nick said.  He looked over his shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

        “You’d be okay with that?” Drew asked.

        Nick straightened, turning to face Drew, tossing his hair back out of his face.  “Okay with getting smacked on the ass during sex?”

        Drew didn’t really want to be called a pervert, and he’d understand if the idea didn’t exactly appeal to Nick.  It wasn’t Nick’s fault that Drew occasionally had, well...urges.

        “As long as you’re not bruising me, I’m okay with it,” Nick said.  “You already have a weird fascination with feeling me up.  I guess it was only a matter of time.”

        “If I ever bruised you-”

        “Relax,” Nick said, and kissed him.  “What should we order?  Hearty man food?  Romantic sexy food?”

        “I’ll get the menu,” Drew said.  He paused.  “Where is the menu?”

        “Brian moved some of them to the dining room,” Nick said.  “Maybe.”

        Drew went to the dining room, searching in the drawer in the corner table.  Menus, yes, but not from Korchetti’s.  He went to the den.  Finally, he found them in Brian’s office.  Carrying them back to the kitchen, he stopped short in the doorway.

        Nick was leaning over the table again, paging through the phone book.  His pants were down around his thighs, leaving his ass bare, his shirt pulled up a little.  Taped to the small of his back was a hastily scrawled “Spank me.”

        Drew’s cheeks burned.  He set the menus on the table, but couldn’t keep his gaze from returning to Nick’s ass.

        “Great, thanks,” Nick said, scooping up Korchetti’s menu.  “This is the place with the crazy desserts.  We should go there again.  Brian embarrassed the hell out of Kevin there one time.”

        Drew stepped back a little to get a better, more direct view of Nick’s ass.  It was thick, solid, and round, a soft white-pink color.  He was sure that if he smacked it, it would jiggle, a sort of reverberation.

        “Nick and Jeff.  They’re worried about health and carbs and shit.  Meat’s better than pasta, right?” Nick asked.

        “Yeah,” Drew said absently, lightly running his fingertips along the outside of Nick’s hip.

        “I guess we should have vegetables or something,” Nick said.

        “Yeah.”  He stroked the curve of Nick’s ass.

        “I’m not eating anything I can’t pronounce,” Nick decided.  “I learned that in France, and I’m sticking to it.  Goat brains my ass.”

        Drew pressed his fingers to Nick’s flesh, and let go.  Nick’s skin turned white, then faded back to white-pink.

        “Do we want something with wine in it?” Nick asked.  “It seems like a sneaky way to get someone drunk.  I guess there’s not enough in it, though.”

        Drew lightly tapped the side of Nick’s ass.  It shook just slightly.

        “Let’s skip anything with mushrooms.”

        A little harder, down a little farther.  He watched the tremors.

        “Veal?” Nick suggested.  “Maybe steak.”

        A light smack.  Drew’s dick was stiffening inside his pants.

        “Everybody likes steak a different way.  Chicken?”

        The skin on Nick’s back was smooth.  Drew rubbed his hand over it, enjoying the feel.  Nick was insanely good to touch.  Either it felt good to touch Nick because he liked being touched, or he’d developed his like for being touched to help him cope with constantly being touched.  Drew’s hand slid down to his ass.

        “What is this, thirty different kinds of chicken?”

        Drew stepped aside.

        “Oh, Brian would like this one.”

        Drew pulled his hand back.

        “Maybe I’ll order fifteen different things and we can pick when it gets here.”

        The sound of the smack was startlingly loud to Drew’s ears, and immediately he worried that he’d used too much force.  For seconds, his handprint was visible.

        “That didn’t even hurt,” Nick said.  “You can go ahead and do it a couple more times, if you want.  Appetizers!  Man, this is some good shit right here.  Let’s just order appetizers and forget the rest of that.”

        Drew walked around the table to stand opposite Nick.

        “I love scallions, but I can’t eat onions and try to kiss anybody.”

        Drew gently ran his fingers through Nick’s hair, combing it forward into Nick’s eyes.

        “Loaded potato skins, hell yes.  Gourmet mozzarella sticks?  What’s gourmet about them?”

        Drew leaned across the table, meeting Nick halfway, kissing him softly.  Nick kissed back as though it were the most natural thing possible, as though a part of him had been waiting for it.  Drew parted his lips at the soft flicker of Nick’s tongue, tucking Nick’s hair behind one ear.

        “You’re going to do it again,” Nick said.

        “I had to kiss you first,” Drew said.

        Nick broke their kiss, meeting his eyes candidly, smiling a little just for him.  Nick touched the tip of Drew’s nose with one finger.  “Drew angel, it’s okay.  You don’t have to feel guilty or perverted or like you’re hurting me or using me.  I’m telling you it’s okay, I don’t mind.  Brian gave you his permission, I heard him.  You do whatever you want, and I’ll let you know if it’s too much or too far.”  Another tap on the end of Drew’s nose.  “Okay?”

        “Okay,” Drew said.

        “Would it be okay if I order a shitload of appetizers and maybe some dessert, and skip the main meal?”

        “Sure,” Drew said.

        Nick grinned.  “You’re fun.”

        “Thanks for letting me…”

        “Smack my ass?” Nick asked.  “You’re welcome.”

        It couldn’t be another bouquet.  It couldn’t possibly.  Howie went to the door.

        It was the same deliveryman from ten o’clock.  “A dozen red roses for Mr. Dorough.”

        Howie couldn’t believe it.  He took the flowers.  “Thank you.”  This was getting interesting.  The first dozen had been sweet and thoughtful, a lovely romantic gesture for the morning before their special date.  The second dozen had upped the stakes.  This third dozen was establishing a pattern.

        He brought the newest bouquet into the kitchen, picking up the phone.  He got Chris’s voice mail.  Yes, Chris was working, but Howie suspected that Chris deliberately wasn’t going to be answering the phone.  That was all right with him.  “Thank you for the flowers, Chris.  I’d go over to the studio to thank you in person, but I’m afraid to leave the house right now.  I’d hate to miss a special delivery.”

        He found the card, and read it.

        Howie.  My Howie.  My love.  I wish I could be there to see your sweet smile right now.  Love, Chris

        “Do you have a note from your mother?” Chris asked.

        “Don’t worry about it,” Nick said.  “Although the rest of us were here bright and early, and I personally have been here since nine forty-five-”

        “Been here since nine thirty, myself,” Justin added.

        “-JC isn’t here yet,” Nick finished.

        “JC?” Brian asked, setting down his things.  “Has anyone called him?”

        “Is that a love bite?” AJ asked.

        “I’m not falling for that,” Brian said.

        “That’s a love bite,” AJ said.

        Brian glanced at Justin for confirmation. Justin nodded.  “Where?” Brian asked, touching his neck.

        “My question is, whom?” Chris asked.

        “Yes, Brian, tell us,” AJ said.  “The gorgeous loving husband or the sexy young fiance?”

        “I honestly don’t know,” Brian said.  “And if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business.  I think we’d better call JC.  Where did you get a Robo Battle Combat Zoid?”

        JC’s cell phone rang.

        “You have to go,” Justin said, moaning as his body closed in around JC’s fingers.

        “I want to taste you everywhere,” JC whispered, his tongue licking in a slow sweep along Justin’s neck.  “I want to lick every inch of you.”

        “Josh, baby,” Justin said, fucking himself agitatedly on JC’s fingers, “you really have to leave.”

        “I want to lick inside you,” JC said, “I want to taste you everywhere.”

        Justin whimpered, frustrated.  JC’s fingers were in him, but still, and he needed them to move, he wanted them to move.  JC had created a slow-burning need within him, a need JC wasn’t working to satisfy, and if he could just have JC’s dick, if he could just get off, god, he wanted to get off.

        “I want you, Justin, I want to experience you every way I can.”

        Justin’s hips rocked upward when JC’s fingers twitched within him.  “Oh, yes, JC…”  He moaned as JC kissed him, digging his fingers into the cushions beneath him to keep from jerking down JC’s pants to get at JC’s hard dick.  “You have to go, you have to leave,” he said, begging JC to go away and let him be.  He was starting to get that old feeling again, that feeling that he’d never be himself again if he didn’t have JC inside him, that feeling like he needed to be one with JC more than he needed air.  He wasn’t supposed to have that feeling anymore, not now, because they were healthy now, things were different, and oh god, oh yes, oh god, oh yes, if JC didn’t fuck him he was going to die.  “God, no, JC, go, go, go, please, leave.”  Justin howled with pleasure as JC’s fingers rubbed his prostate.  “Go, you have to go, you have to leave, we can’t do this, we can’t, don’t do this to me.”

        “I want to be inside you, baby, let me be inside you,” JC said, opening his fly with his free hand.

        “JC, we can’t, we can’t, it’s not safe,” Justin said, trying to zip JC’s pants back up.

        “You want it, baby, your body’s begging for it.”

        “I know, JC, I know, my body’s been screaming at me about this for so long now, but we can’t, we just can’t, we’re better now, we’re healthy, things are different.  Don’t do this to us, JC, help me stop this.”

        “It’s not wrong, it’s not bad,” JC said, and kissed him desperately.  “Oh, Justin, all I want is to be inside you again.”  JC was embracing him with one arm, cheek against his cheek, slipping a third finger up inside him.  “I want to make love to you, baby, I want to live inside your body for just a little while.”

        Justin shuddered at the intrusion of a third finger, clutching JC closer.  Maybe it wasn’t bad, maybe it wasn’t wrong.  JC wouldn’t hurt him.  JC wanted it, and he wanted to give JC everything that JC ever desired.

        The phone rang.

        Justin was jarred back to reality.  This was wrong.  It didn’t feel right.  Oh, god, it felt incredible to his body, and all of the devils inside his brain were screaming and begging and clawing at him to do it, to let JC in, to feel that way just one more time.  Except once he’d done it, it wouldn’t be just one more time, it would be a constant craving, it would be always always always, there would never be enough.  It was a downward spiral, a steady descent into hell, and he’d been there.  He wouldn’t do that again.

        JC’s behavior was tipping him off.  His JC, the real JC, would have stopped.  JC never pushed this hard.  If he were ever uncomfortable, his JC would stop.  Especially now, especially if he were afraid of damaging their new healthy balance.

        Justin said, “Baby, baby, freeze.  Hold still, completely still, and listen to me.  Just listen.”

        JC became still.

        “Okay.  JC, I love you, and you know I want you, but I think we went a little too far.”  He rose up, lifting himself off of JC’s fingers, slipping from JC’s embrace to stand by the couch.  “I want this, but not for the right reasons.  I know what you’re feeling,” he said, as JC’s mouth opened to speak.  “I know everything you’re going through.  It’s hard to stay on the right path.  Every day I fight myself.  Every time you touch me, god, JC, it’s so hard not to go back there.  When we make love, we’re on dangerous ground, both of us.”

        JC blinked, and his eyes cleared, and suddenly he was standing, gathering Justin into his embrace.  “I’m sorry, Justin, I was pushing, you were right, I was wrong.  It was in my head, it was consuming me, that need, I wanted you, I wanted to get inside your skin and live you.”

        “I know,” Justin said, stroking JC’s back.  “It’s all right, baby, we just have to be more careful.”

        “Thank you, baby.  Thank you for stopping me.  You’re so strong, Justin, you’re so good.”

        “You’re really late,” Justin said.

        JC pulled back a little, touching Justin’s face.  “Are you all right?  Can I do anything?”

        “No, you should go,” Justin said.  “I’ll just stay here and masturbate and kick myself for not letting you consume me.”

        “You were right, Justin.  You were right.  We can’t go there again.”

        “I know,” Justin said, and fixed JC’s collar.  “It’d be easier to give up if it hadn’t felt so fucking good.”

        “I know,” JC said, and kissed him.  “Do you want me to teach you how?”

        “Teach me how to what?” Justin asked.

        JC buttoned his jeans and met Justin’s eyes.  “Masturbate.”

        Justin’s eyes widened.  He gripped JC’s hand.  “Really?”

        “We can do it tonight, if you want to.”

        “Is it safe?” Justin asked, trying to contain his excitement.

        “If we’re careful.”

        “JC, you don’t even have to teach me, I just want to watch you.”

        “I want to teach you,” JC said.  “I want you to know how to give yourself that ultimate pleasure.”

        “You give me ultimate pleasure,” Justin argued.

        “But it’s in you,” JC said.  “It’s in you, I’m just drawing it out.  I want you to know how to draw it out, too.”

        “JC, I love you,” Justin said, and hugged him.  “What changed your mind?”

        “You’ve been masturbating more lately,” JC said.  “Before, I was afraid,” he confessed, stroking Justin’s chest.  “If you didn’t need me for sex, you wouldn’t need me for anything.  I believe in us now.  You love me.  I love you, and I want to give this to you.”

        “It took you long enough,” Justin said, hugging him again.  “And you’re beyond extra late.  Go, go.  Have a good day.”

        “Bye,” JC said, picking up his bag, giving Justin a kiss.  “Have a good day,” he said, gently stroking Justin’s arousal.

        “Get out of here,” Justin said, pushing JC’s hand off of his dick.  “Tell them you were fixing your hair or something.”

        “How is my hair?” JC asked, pausing, patting it with one hand.

        “God, JC, just go!”

        “Let me-”

        “No, you’re not going to be even later,” Justin said, pushing him towards the front door.  “I promise, if one strand is out of place, they’ll still respect you.”

        “No,” Brian said.  “I’m sure he’s fine.”

        Nick glanced around; AJ and Justin were in the corner working on their harmony, and Chris was checking his voice mail.  “What time did you want us to come over tonight?”

        “Whenever we’re finished here, you can go home, collect Jeff, and come over,” Brian said.

        “Okay.”  Nick smiled, flashing his dimples.

        Brian smiled back.

        JC opened the door.

        Chris applauded.

        “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” JC said.

        “Flat tire?” Chris asked innocently.

        “Justin and I had some things to work out,” JC said.

        “Is everything all right?” Brian asked.

        “Valid question, since we’re all concerned about their mental health,” Chris said, “but ‘Justin and I had some things to work out’ was code for ‘My sweet baby Justin tasted so good this morning I just couldn’t tear myself away.’  I can relate.  I was sorely tempted to ditch every last one of you today and stay home, and not to watch HBO, either.”

        AJ’s gaze moved from JC to linger on Brian, then turned to Nick.  “And why were you late?”

        Nick cleared his throat.  “I wasn’t watching HBO.”

        Justin snickered.

        “Why were you late?” AJ asked Justin.

        “Oh, hey, I just slept in a little too long,” Justin said.  “I was on the phone until six this morning.”

        “Justin has a mysterious new friend,” Nick said.

        “Justin’s personal life is Justin’s business,” Justin said.

        “That’s interesting, because I know another guy named Justin, and if you ask him, he’ll tell you what sexual positions he’s tried out over the past twenty-four hours,” Chris said.

        “Maybe we should get to work,” JC said.

        “I’m serious,” Chris said, ignoring JC.  “Let’s call him up and ask him.”

        “No, and I won’t ask why that page is bookmarked,” Justin said, as Joey flopped down onto the couch behind him.  “I’m trying to find a good interior designer.”

        “Didn’t you talk to a hundred of them yesterday?” Joey asked, reaching out to rub Justin’s peach fuzz.

        “Yeah, but they were all too,” Justin gestured irritably, “inside-the-box.  Too traditional.  I couldn’t see them decorating for JC.”

        “That’s where you come in,” Joey said.  “Nobody knows JC like you do, so you have to tell them what he’d want.”

        “What?” Justin asked.

        “Nobody knows JC like you do, so-”

        “Nobody knows JC like I do,” Justin said.

        “Right,” Joey said, wondering what the big revelation was.

        “I can do anything,” Justin said.

        “That’s been my experience,” Joey said.  “It can get irritating.”

        “I’m going to do it,” Justin said, turning to face Joey.  “I’m decorating our new house.”

        “By yourself?” Joey asked, alarmed.

        “I can do it,” Justin said.  “I know what I like, I know what JC likes, and I know how to blend that.”

        “You wouldn’t know where to start,” Joey said.  “That’s a whopping big-ass house.”

        “Furniture, paint, wallpaper.  I have time,” Justin said.  “You can help me.”

        “Of course I’ll help you, we’ll all help you, but you don’t know what you’re doing,” Joey said.

        “There has to be some reason that people think all gay men are interior decorators,” Justin said.

        “Yeah, it’s because they’re homophobic,” Joey said.

        “I want to do something for JC,” Justin said.  “I want to make sure the house feels like it’s his.  Some stranger won’t know how to do that.”

        “Any good designer would know how to decorate exactly according to the client’s wishes,” Joey said.  “That’s the whole point.”

        “I’m going to try it,” Justin said.  “If I get in over my head and it isn’t working out, then I’ll hire someone.  Come on,” he said, getting up, “let’s go look at the house again.”

        “I have to stay,” Joey said.  “Lance is coming over later.”

        “When?”

        “This afternoon, when he’s finished at the office.”

        “Come with me now, and tell him to call you before he leaves,” Justin said.  “This won’t take long.”

        “Hey, it’s Joey, I’m going out for a few minutes.  Call me before you leave the office.  I don’t want to miss you.  Bye.”

        “What about the bedroom?” Joey asked.  “Which room is that?”

        “Whichever room on the second floor is biggest,” Justin said.

        “Should we start pricing trapezes?”

        Justin laughed.  “No, but I’ll spend hot money to find the sturdiest headboard around.”

        “Why don’t you get a solid headboard?” Joey asked.  “Forget those railed ones.”

        “I need something to hold onto,” Justin said.

        “Hold onto JC,” Joey said.

        “And tear his back open every night?” Justin asked.

        “I really thought only you and girls did that, but I think Lance scratched the backs of my thighs,” Joey said.

        “Lance?” Justin asked.  “Don’t tell me he’s a hellcat in bed.”

        “He’s not a hellcat,” Joey said.  “Rohanna, now she was a hellcat.  Lance is…”

        “Lance is what?” Justin asked.

        “The most satisfying lay I’ve ever had.”

        Justin stopped walking and stared at Joey.

        Joey stopped walking to be stared at.

        “Joey, you’ve had more sexual partners than anyone I know,” Justin said.  “That’s a lot of competition.”

        “Lance is good,” Joey said.  “I feel different when I’m fucking him.”

        “Different how?” Justin asked.

        “Humble,” Joey said.  “And invincible.”

        “I don’t know,” Joey said.  “Furniture stores?  Paint stores?  Wallpaper stores?”

        “Paint first,” Justin decided.

        “You don’t know which room you want which color,” Joey said.

        “I know what I’m doing with some of the rooms,” Justin said.  “We can just buy some of each color we like.”

        “You have no idea what you’re doing,” Joey said.

        “What’s the worst that can happen?” Justin asked.  “I buy too much paint?  I have to paint over the wrong color?  I’m not tearing down walls or anything.”

        “Whatever you say,” Joey said.  “I hope JC can talk some sense into you.”

        “JC is going to be proud of my confidence and ambition,” Justin said.

        “JC is a total nutcase,” Joey said.

        “I know,” Justin said.  He grinned.  “I like it.”

        No one answered.