Where You Belong

Where You Belong, eighth in the "Living" series

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.

Wherein Drew won't go behind Brian's back, AJ can screw anybody he wants, and could JC be mellowing?

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 was on his way to see Chris. On his way to be with Chris again. On his way to Chris.

He'd be arriving a little earlier than Nick had been supposed to show up. One Backstreet Boy was as good as another, right?

AJ had asked Howie to check out Lance for him. Not check on Lance; check out Lance. He'd made that request in front of Kevin, so while it might have been a sincere expression of interest, it might also have been insincere and designed to upset Kevin. Or, since it was AJ, it might have been both.

Howie would probably run into Lance while he was there, but he wasn't going to waste his time determining Lance's state of mind and how that related to AJ. Anyone who wasn't Chris was going to get little to none of his attention.

After a tour, Howie was in a weird mood of letdown-celebration mixed with sadness, exhaustion, relief, and a serious need for rejuvenation. Ending a tour was a wonderful and terrible thing. He couldn't think of any place he'd rather be than with Chris right then. Simply seeing Chris again would ease his jittery pain.

Howie knew that most people would not find Chris soothing. Many other things, but not soothing. But for Howie, laughing through Chris's too-long comedy monologues, kissing Chris's mouth, watching Chris across a room, looking into Chris's eyes and feeling love for Chris, those things were the balm for any hurt.

Nick was not, at that moment, proud of his husband or his brother. Did they think that right now was the best moment for them to fight? They'd been ignoring each other for this long; they couldn't extend it for a few more hours?

"I shouldn't be here," Nick said.

"Forget them. They're being jerks."

"Not my Drew."

"Yeah, him."

"Only because he's mad."

"Okay, what is wrong? You're doing the slumping and pouting thing."

"I am not."

He stuck out his lower lip and slouched down on the couch, mocking Nick's position.

"It doesn't work on you," Nick said. "It just makes you look sexier."

He tried not to blush. "Yeah, well, same to you."

Nick laughed.

Drew's head turned in their direction so fast, he expected Drew to get whiplash. Yes, Nick was laughing. Nick was happy. Drew could stop being an overprotective idiot any day now.

Nick sighed.

He forced himself not to react when he felt Nick's shoulder lean against his. Casual, companionable touching. He still couldn't believe Nick felt this comfortable around him. Nick had hugged him. "What's up?"

"Drew's mad at me. Drew's mad at you. Drew's mad in general."

"Let me guess. It's all your fault."

"Hey, you're a lot smarter than you used to be."

"Everyone else knows you inside and out. I'm learning. So tell me why it's all your fault."

"I screwed everything up. And it's messed up so bad Drew doesn't want me here."

"He doesn't want you here because he cares about you."

"He loves me."

"Yes, he loves you."

"Brian still likes you. I mean, he's not as happy about you as he used to be. But he still likes you. The songs he's writing for you, he's putting a lot into them. I think you're his muse now, and I hate you for that."

"I'm... No, I'm not." That was a ridiculous idea. "You're his muse, you always have been."

"He does like me better than he likes you," Nick said.

"A little." Understatement. "Hey, we have to get dressed for the show. Do you want to watch from the soundbooth?"

"Can I get your sound guy to cut out everybody's mike but Drew's?"

"No."

"Just checking. Now, don't you all be nervous tonight, just because a Backstreet Boy is watching. I won't criticize you too harshly, since we're friends," Nick said, heading for the door.

"We appreciate it."

Nick paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Justin, since Drew's mad at me and Nick already has a roommate, it's you and me tonight."

"Looking forward to it," Justin said.

JC found Brian. "Come on down to the lobby. Nick's on his way from the airport."

"Already?" Brian asked. "Now?"

"Right now," JC said. "Maybe he caught an earlier flight." They went downstairs. Brian was glad that Nick was coming early. It quieted that vague feeling of discontent he'd had ever since he'd left Nick to come here.

Security conferring; screams from outside as a limo pulled up; a quick dash into the lobby; and - - "Howie?"

Howie flashed Brian a smile. "You were expecting someone else?"

Brian embraced him. "I thought you were Nick."

"Sorry, just me. Hi, JC," Howie said, and shook JC's hand.

"Hi," JC said.

"Was anyone expecting you?" Brian asked Howie.

"Chris knew I was coming, but not when," Howie said.

"Why don't you help Howie find Chris," JC said to Brian. "I'll go tell the other guys."

Brian wasn't eager to see Lance and Joey's reaction to Howie's presence. He was sure that Chris, on the other hand, would be overjoyed. So he took Howie up in the elevator to see if they could locate Chris.

The elevator doors were mirrored. Howie glanced at himself, flipping his hair behind his shoulder. The movement attracted Brian's attention. "Is that a new ring?"

Howie displayed his hand for Brian's gaze. He wore a man's gold ring, with a ruby surrounded by a cluster of tiny diamonds. "It was waiting for me at home."

"Who's it from?"

"Chris."

Brian knew that Drew would rather spit blood than pay that kind of money. "It's gorgeous."

"Kevin says it's gaudy."

"What does AJ say?"

"AJ likes it."

"Then I'd stick with it." They stepped off of the elevator. "I think that Chris's room is one of these."

"'...easy as one two three, simple as do re mi-" Justin skidded to a halt. "It's a Backstreet Boys infestation."

"Hi," Howie said. "Chris knows I'm coming; he just doesn't know when. I thought I'd surprise him."

"He'll be surprised," Justin said. "So will a few other people."

"Which room is Chris's?" Brian asked.

"This one," Justin said. He knocked. "Chris." He knocked again. "Nobody's home. Have you seen Chris?" he asked the closest security guard.

"He and Steve took the stairs."

"Steve Jerome," Brian told Howie, who nodded. "Thanks. Let's take a tour of the building."

Brian and Howie wandered through the hotel, talking of this and that. Howie, like almost everyone but Brian, knew by now that Nick wasn't on his way to visit *NSYNC, but he wasn't going to be the one to break the news.

They were just coming out of the stairwell and into the lobby when Howie stopped short. Brian stopped, millimeters from colliding with him.

Chris was across the lobby. With Steve. Their bodies were very close, far beyond standard comfort zones. Brian didn't remember standing that close to anyone in public. Especially for this length of time. Well, except Nick. And that sure said a lot. Chris and Steve were talking, and laughing. Everyone knew that Chris was a very funny person, but Steve's laughter seemed too bright, lasted too long. Steve kept touching Chris: his shoulder, his chest, his arm.

Steve took a step back. Chris took a step back. It looked as though they were about to part ways.

Steve kissed Chris good-bye, turned, and walked away, towards the front desk. Chris started in the opposite direction, towards the elevator.

Howie didn't look towards Chris, move towards Chris, or try to attract Chris's attention. He walked straight to Steve.

Brian followed a step behind, just in case.

Steve looked up. For a moment, he looked doomed. But he recovered quickly. Maybe he thought that he could pull it off.

There were two ways that Howie could handle the situation. The first was to realize that he was a Backstreet Boy, and throw his weight around, so to speak. The second was to realize that he was a Backstreet Boy, and he didn't have to throw his weight around. Nick tended to choose the first; Brian, when pushed into it, used the second.

Howie stepped right up to Steve. "Are you Steve Jerome?"

"Yeah, I-"

"You're staying in this hotel?"

"Yes."

"You've been staying with the tour for weeks now? Months?"

"Ye-"

Howie's fist cut across Steve's face, snapping Steve's neck back, breaking his nose, slicing his cheek with the new ring. Brian winced. The front desk clerk shrieked.

There was a bing to signal the arrival of the elevator. But Chris, who'd been waiting, didn't seem to notice. He was too busy staring across the lobby in shock and possibly horror.

Howie grabbed his victim by the back of the neck, yanking Steve down, snarling in Steve's ear. "He's mine. He's mine, and he's going to stay mine. Make sure that you stay away from him, far away from him, for the rest of your natural born life and after. If you don't; if I think, hear, or suspect that you've so much as been in a room an hour after he left it; I will have you flayed alive."

Chris was scurrying across the slick lobby floor.

Howie jerked Steve closer again and whispered, his breath passing Steve's ear like a lover's. "I should have you scalped."

Chris had reached them. "Howie."

Howie dropped Steve, shaking out the hand he'd hurt while breaking Steve's nose.

Chris looked to Brian for help.

Steve started to say something. Howie kicked him in the balls. "Stay down." Howie turned away, making sure there was no blood on his ring.

"Why don't you show Howie to your room?" Brian suggested to Chris.

Chris looked grateful to Brian for giving him something to do. "It's right upstairs. The elevator's right over here. I can get you ice, if you, um, if your hand, uh..."

Brian waited until the elevator doors closed on Howie and Chris before he helped Steve up. He was going to have to talk to JC about Steve's future as a songwriter for the Sentimental Fools.

After the concert, Nick made a familiar mad dash for the limo. He spent the ride to the hotel talking excitedly to Justin and the other Nick about how bitchin' their show had been. It wasn't an elaborate extravaganza like an *NSYNC concert, or a huge party like a Backstreet Boys concert; it had been about the music, about the audience. And as a member of the audience with great personal interest in 98 Degrees, he'd loved it.

He asked the other Nick for an autograph, but none of them had a pen.

They got to the hotel and went up to their rooms. Nick, despite knowing that his bags had been put in Drew's room, pretended to follow Justin. He waited until Drew's door closed, then excused himself from Justin's company.

He knocked on Drew's door.

The door opened.

"Hi, Drew."

Only the slow flicker of pain across Drew's face showed him how Drew suffered from pain, from desire. Oh, Drew. He was here; he could help. Drew let him in, and he sat on the foot of the bed. He waited.

Drew came to him, stood before him, between his thighs. Drew touched his face, drawing fingertips down his cheeks, over his mouth. "Nick." Drew's chest heaved with confused breaths, and then Drew's hand was on the back of his neck, running up into his hair, and Drew's mouth was on his mouth, Drew's kiss taking everything that he had.

Nick's hands went straight for Drew's fly. As much as he loved to kiss Drew, that could wait. This couldn't. He pushed Drew back fast and was on his knees in the same second. He wasn't here to tease. He took Drew's cock in his mouth, his hand holding the base, and he felt how hard Drew was, how big. Drew needed sex. Drew wanted him.

Drew was saying his name, desperate for so many reasons... His Drew, he loved his Drew, he knew how to make Drew feel better. He could reassure Drew. He was here. Drew didn't have to hurt anymore.

He swallowed Drew's cock, the whole way in, the whole way down. So different from Brian. Drew's cock was full, hard, leaking precome. Drew was making sounds above him, helpless shocked sounds, nothing intelligible. Drew's hips were hitching, wanting to thrust, afraid to.

Nick shoved Drew's pants down some more, getting his hands on Drew's hips, naked hips, perfect skin over bone and muscle, Drew. He held Drew's hips still, then guided them into even thrusts, a steady rhythm. Drew was picking it up, and Nick was high off the slick, full movement of Drew's cock between his lips and over his tongue, and then Drew gasped and twisted and came, thick white salt jetting into Nick's mouth.

Nick swallowed it all, forced himself off of Drew's cock, and licked his lips. Drew was standing there, still gasping a little.

"Drew? You okay?" he asked, and stood. "Here, take this off, it'll make you feel better." He undressed Drew. God sweet fucking damn. It couldn't be legal to have a body this good. Nick had to remind himself that it wasn't time to ravish Drew; he'd better switch to gentler seduction now. He could always ravish Drew later. He lifted Drew's chin and kissed Drew, slowly at first, letting Drew remember him.

"Nick," Drew said, more breath than word, and kissed him more.

That made Nick's heart beat faster. Drew had missed him, and Drew had been wanting him, and he was about to let Drew have him. Drew's hands started to wander, to investigate. Why was he still wearing every fucking thing he'd had on all day? Didn't he have the sense to get naked? Drew's hands were all over his shoulders, his back, his arms, and then they started to venture lower, and Drew was rubbing and squeezing his thighs, moaning.

"You want some?" Nick asked, and Drew didn't say anything, just kissed him like his mouth was oxygen. Drew's hands were on his ass, squeezing there now, and this time it was Nick who moaned. If Drew wanted his ass, it was Drew's, no questions asked.

"Hold on," Nick said, and Drew held on, and he picked Drew up and put Drew on the bed. He had no chance of getting his clothes off while Drew was clutching at him like this, or - - whoa! - - feeling him up like that. Wow. "Let go for one second. Here, hold this." He lowered Drew's hand to Drew's cock.

Drew bucked up into his own hand, groaning. Watching Drew's mind surrender his body to the stimulation, Nick ached. Drew's ecstatic "aaahhh" echoed as his fist worked over his dick.

Nick stripped as fast as he could, peeling out of his leather pants. Shit! "Drew," he said, trying to get Drew's attention but reluctant to interrupt Drew's pleasure. "Drew, we need lube. Where's the lube?" He was hoping that it would be close to hand; his own was packed somewhere in his suitcases, and he didn't want to have to get up and dig for it.

Drew shook his head. "There isn't..." He'd opened his eyes, and now he was staring, reaching, drawn to Nick's body. He scooted closer, his hand wet with his own pre-cum, touching Nick's shoulders. He made a quick sound and pushed at Nick, looking down Nick's body. Not satisfied with that, he pushed harder, making Nick roll over, until they were on their sides facing each other, and he had Nick's erection in his hand.

Nick took Drew's hand in his so that he could get out a coherent sentence. "Drew, where is the lube?"

"No," Drew said. "There isn't any." He kissed Nick's chest, licking at Nick's nipple. The scrub of his soft tongue over the sensitive spot made Nick gasp.

"There isn't any?" Nick asked. He'd forgotten how quiet sex with Drew was, how little Drew talked in bed. He and Brian always had a lot to say.

"No," Drew said, too interested in Nick's body to worry about it. He reached down for Nick's cock, his eyes on what he was doing. He touched it as though it were new, as though this were an experiment. Drew was unsure, practicing. The tentative touch, the hesitant squeeze, they were torture for Nick.

Drew touched Nick's pre-cum with his fingertips. He licked one finger.

"Remember that?" Nick asked. "You remember that in your mouth? The way it tastes?"

"Yes," Drew said, soft and captivated.

Nick nudged up against Drew's cock. "You feel hard. You want to come?"

"Yes," Drew said. That sounded urgent. His gaze flickered towards Nick's eyes.

"If you tell me where the lube is, I'll let you fuck me."

Drew kissed Nick's mouth. "It's gone," he said. "There isn't any."

God, damn, Nick wanted to kiss Drew forever. Drew's mouth, Drew's...tongue... He couldn't... He'd been saying something... The... Drew... Oh, right. "You lost it?"

Drew was too interested in kissing Nick to supply him with long, informative sentences. "I used it," Drew said.

"All of it?"

"Yes." Drew was rubbing his hand in Nick's groin, inside Nick's thigh.

"Oh." Nick inhaled, seeking self-control, when Drew's hand found his cock again. "Why didn't you buy more?"

"If I don't have any, maybe I won't masturbate as often." Clearly, Drew was too preoccupied with exploring Nick's dick in his hand to worry about gentility.

"I want you to masturbate," Nick said. "I like it that you masturbate." He pushed Drew's hand away, bit his thumb, and counted to twenty-five. Okay. He'd postponed his orgasm. They had to use lube if he were going to fuck Drew, but if Drew were fucking him, spit and pre-cum could work. It wasn't like he'd been celibate during their time apart. And if they didn't do something soon, very soon, he was going to come anyway.

Drew was sucking on his neck.

Nick found one of Drew's hands and spat in it. Drew, still busy with Nick's neck, closed and opened his fist reflexively, wondering but not curious enough to stop what he was doing to investigate.

Nick tilted his hips, resting one leg on Drew's side and back, since Drew was leaning over him at a convenient angle. He put Drew's hand where he wanted it, pushing Drew's forefinger right there. He couldn't get much more clear about his desires. "Drew."

Drew's head came up; his hazel eyes were clear, fully aware, for the first time since they'd kissed tonight. "Nick." And then he was kissing Nick, and his finger was in, and he said it again, Nick's name, like it was everything he'd ever dreamed of.

With a quick touch, Nick got his own hand wet with his own pre-cum. Then he rubbed Drew's cock, getting it slick. Drew's kiss was wet, Drew's tongue fast.

Drew's hand was on his balls now. Drew's finger had entered him, giving him an erotic taste of the penetration to come, but Drew hadn't done a thing to get him prepared. And now Drew was angling his hips, getting lined up against his ass, ready to go right this second. That was okay; he was sexually active, Brian fucked him regularly, he didn't need anything to ease the way, god, god, oh god, no, yes, no, too big, too dry, too tight. What had he been thinking, what?

Drew was fucking him, and the wetness of Drew's pre-cum was making the ride friendlier, and Nick's body was adjusting to the familiar intrusion, and Drew's thrusts started to hit right against his prostate. Drew was in him, on him, fucking him, Drew. Drew's cock, Drew's thrusts, the rhythm of it, the sound of Drew's polite grunted "uh" on every move, it was Drew, all Drew.

Nick kept his eyes open and watched Drew's face. Drew's body had taken over; Drew's body knew what to do, how to fuck Nick, how to keep the rhythm in the hips. Drew's conscious mind was no longer in control, and it showed in the “oh god oh god this feels so good I don't know how to stop it I'm sorry please let me” look in Drew's eyes.

They had to get Drew laid more often.

Wanting Drew and missing Drew and having Drew and Drew wanting him and Drew missing him and Drew fucking him and this constant thrusting against his prostate and Drew's hands on his hips and he grabbed his dick and squeezed, pulled, and he came.

Something, he didn't know what but something, maybe the sound he made, maybe the way he looked - - Drew gasped and stopped moving, held still, staring at him. He couldn't be much to look at, shuddering and shivering, mouth open, body laid out, but Drew seemed stuck.

Nick knew how to fix that. He jacked his hips up, one quick, clean, hard thrust. He'd intended to make Drew get back to fucking him. It didn't quite work. Drew came. Just, came. Right then, right there, with "Oh!" and "Aahh" and "Nick," hands tightening hard on Nick's sides.

Nick gathered Drew close, stroking his back, his neck. Drew was breathing hard, clinging onto him tightly and not making any move to get away.

"I didn't know he was there! How was I supposed to know?" Chris asked, trying to sound authoritative but mostly sounding frantic. He looked frantic, too, pacing wildly, looking from one person to another seeking any support. "I was talking to Steve, and I was going to go up to my room, and then I heard violence and somebody screamed, and I turned around and there he was! There he was, looking like one of God's most enraged angels, kicking Steve's ass and being very serious about it. Howie was not kidding."

Justin wondered if Chris was going to stop babbling any time soon.

"You should have seen it, he was so intense, he was gorgeous, he was beautiful, it looked like he'd had his hair styled right before he walked in the lobby. Howie always looks like he's fresh from a magazine cover."

It was time to stop Chris short, before they found themselves in Howie-worship land. "Let me break in, here," Justin said. "This may be one of the more minor details, but I think it's worth pursuing. Why did Howie break out Jackie Chan all over Steve's ass?"

"He saw me with Steve," Chris said.

"You aren't allowed to talk to other guys anymore?" Justin asked.

"Howie's an asshole, but I never thought he was an abusive possessive psycho," Joey said. "There are assholes, and then there are assholes."

"He saw Steve kiss me," Chris said.

Hello, bombshell. Justin looked at JC, to make sure he'd heard right. JC looked surprised and concerned, so, yeah, he'd heard right.

"Steve kissed you," Joey said. "Steve Jerome kissed you in the lobby in front of Howie."

"We didn't know that Howie was there," Chris said. "No, I - - it wasn't - - it's not like that. He never kissed me before, it was this one time, we'd been talking, it was affectionate. An affectionate see-you-later peck."

"On the cheek," Justin said.

"No, more on the mouth," Chris said.

"Did you pucker?" Justin asked. "Did you pucker up for this kiss?"

"Maybe a little," Chris said. "To be friendly. It's not like that! It was one kiss, between friends. It never happened before. It didn't mean anything!"

"I knew that you and Steve were spending a lot of time together," JC said.

"A lot of time," Lance said.

"I thought that you were friends with him," JC said. "I never realized-"

"There's nothing to realize! We are friends! Friends. That's all, that's it, no more than friends."

"A friendly kiss between friends," Justin said.

"Yes. Right. Exactly," Chris said, relieved.

"Yeah, you're full of shit," Joey said, sitting back against the headboard.

"What I don't get," Justin said, "is... Steve kissed you. One kiss. There wasn't tongue or anything, was there?"

"No!" Chris shouted. "No! It was a friendly kiss! Between friends! We're friends!"

"One little kiss, and Howie channels Jet Li," Justin said. "I don't get it."

"Steve had his hands on Howie's man," Joey said. "Howie doesn't know it was a one-time-only, just-friends kiss. Howie's been away, Chris has been spending day and night with this guy for months, Howie walks in - - it couldn't have looked good."

"It's Chris," JC said. "Chris doesn't kiss his friends. He doesn't kiss us, he isn't going to kiss some guy he just met, without another reason behind it."

"I hate Howie, and I don't advocate violence," Joey said. "But I don't know, I'm not going to speak much against Howie on this one. Steve might have deserved that beat down. Howie knows who his man is, and he's not going to let anybody else even try to get some. That's his man, and he's not afraid to let you know it."

"And whether you want to admit it or not, you were doing him wrong," Justin told Chris.

"One kiss," Chris said. "One. Count it. Uno. One. One! Not two, not three. One."

"What if Howie kissed Nick?" JC asked. "One kiss, one time. They're friends, it's no big deal. You'd hate it. You wouldn't be comfortable with it. You'd wonder, you'd be jealous."

"I wouldn't kick Nick's ass for it," Chris said.

"You can't kick Nick's ass," Lance said.

"When Howie was with AJ, I never kicked AJ's ass. And that was a whole lot worse, totally different."

"You can't kick AJ's ass, either," Justin said. He'd scrapped with AJ himself, once or twice, and he knew AJ could take Chris.

"You're not the ass-kicking type," JC told Chris. "You turn it inward, on yourself. Howie values himself too much to do that, so he projects his anger, directs it outside of himself."

"My question, before I make my final judgment," Joey said. "Did Howie - - what'd you say, channel Jet Li? - - for his own pride, or for Chris?"

"For Chris," JC said. "Because Chris means that much to him. Because the idea of losing Chris hurts that much. Because any threat to what he has with Chris must be attacked and vanquished."

"Vanquished," Justin repeated, impressed.

"Okay," Joey said. "Howie's starting to redeem himself in my book. I may be able to stomach the idea of his existence in three thousand years, instead of never."

"Why are you here, instead of with Howie?" Lance asked Chris.

"Where is Howie?" Justin asked.

"He left," Chris said. "After the...thing-"

"The thing," Justin said. He and Joey made finger quotations at each other. "'The thing.'"

"-I was taking him to my room, but we never got there. He left. I didn't even get a chance to explain about the just-friends aspect."

"You are clinging to that flimsy excuse," Lance said.

"You might want to think of something more convincing by the time Howie gets back," Joey said.

"He is coming back, right?" Chris asked.

"Like we know," Joey said.

"He just kicked ass?" Justin asked. "Did he say anything?"

"Nothing that I heard," Chris said. "It looked like he was saying something to Steve, but I wasn't close enough to hear it."

"If he was kicking ass that hard, I wonder what he was saying," Joey said.

"‘I am a Backstreet Boy. You must fear me,’" Lance suggested.

Nick was holding Drew. They were still sweaty and splashed with semen, but he wasn't ready to let go. Drew was crying.

Nick couldn't exactly get Brian to fix this one, not right this second. He was on his own, here.

No, not on his own. Never on his own when Drew was with him.

It wasn't loud crying, or sobbing. Just quiet sniffles and tears and pain. Drew wasn't the crying after sex type, never had been, and nothing devastating had happened that night, nothing big at all except him showing up. Oh, and Drew turning on Jeff like a mad dog. That part he hadn't expected. And he'd had the idea that Drew had nothing whatsoever in hell or on earth to do with Jeff, so what was with the fighting?

The fighting must be new. A just tonight thing. Because he'd been there?

He hadn't meant to make things worse. He was trying to make things better.

He held Drew. "We don't have to talk about it," he offered.

Drew laughed, a watery laugh but a real one.

"If it's the leather pants, I can get rid of them."

"No, no," Drew said, and coughed, clearing his voice up some. "Keep the pants. Wear them every day."

"Did you like them?"

"Yes," Drew said. "Oh, Nick, yes." His hands slid down over Nick's ass.

"I'm not actually wearing them now," Nick said, since maybe Drew was trying to feel them. "I took them off for sex."

"I'm sorry I wasn't... I can do it better next time."

"Are you trying to apologize for sex?"

"I wasn't very good," Drew said. "I kept going in and out of reality. It was too much, it was... You're here. Really here."

"Yeah, this is me, live and in person," Nick said. "Drew, you have never given me bad sex. You can't apologize for sex, ever. It was very good. It was damned good. It was you. You're so hot, you could just lay there like a dead fish and it'd still be incredible. Incredible, hot, experience of a lifetime, ultimate fantasy sex requires one ingredient only: Drew. So, tell me, why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying."

Right, macho guys didn't cry. "Why were you crying in the recent past?"

Drew didn't say anything.

Nick put his hand under Drew's chin and forced Drew to look up at him instead of hiding in his chest all night. Drew was trying to look stubborn but mostly just looked wet, wet from tears. Nick found a corner of the bedsheet and tried to wipe up Drew's face. "Tell Nicky what's wrong."

"Nothing," Drew said.

"Tell Nicky why you were crying."

"Nothing. I'm just..." Drew sighed and rested for a second. Nick could deal with that. "I've felt stressed out. I didn't realize how bad it was getting. Everything with Jeff, and Nick, and Brian, and you. There's been so much, and I thought that I was handling it, but it's been so hard. I - - Nick, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, and I don't know what for, maybe for everything."

"Maybe for nothing. You haven't done anything to me."

"I have, we all have." Drew wrapped around him, chin on his shoulder, cheek against his. "I love you," Drew said.

Nick felt a quick spasm of pleasure, of pain, inside. "I love you." He closed his eyes and held on.

"I want to make this better for you."

"Then you have to let me stay."

"Here, on tour, with Jeff."

"Yes," Nick said, and he meant it.

"Nick...you don't want to be anywhere near him."

No one had truly called him on it until now. It had been Brian didn't want him near Jeff, Drew didn't want him near Jeff, he shouldn't be near Jeff. But Drew was saying it: Nick didn't want to be near Jeff. He didn't want to talk to Jeff, see Jeff, or hear of Jeff. He wanted to live an entirely Jeff-free life. But he couldn't. He couldn't, not forever, not being with Drew, not being friends with Drew's brother. So he had to be a man; he had to face things. He was trying to be strong, be strong like everybody else always was.

He tried to explain that to Drew. Drew was hurt for him and proud of him and promised to do anything to help, anything, Drew was impressed by his strength and he felt like he hadn't even done anything yet. Drew kissed him, and they made love.

Brian went to JC's hotel room to talk about Steve Jerome. Justin was there, lounging on the sofa, listening but staying out of the conversation.

"He has two songs finished already, five almost finished. He wrote them for us, just for us."

"Do we have a contract?" Brian asked.

"We have an agreement," JC said. "And we're going into the studio, we don't have enough songs without him, we won't even be close to ready."

"We can write more," Brian said. "The rest of the guys can help us."

"We can't fire Steve just because Howie doesn't like him."

"You invited Steve onto this project," Brian said. "You can tell him to leave."

"On what grounds? You've seen what he's written!"

"He's written songs about Chris, for Chris to sing, while he's been doing who-knows-what with Chris when nobody's looking. And now you want Chris to sing those songs for our album."

"That is Chris's business, and no reason-"

"Steve and Chris have been crossing lines they have no business crossing. They've been doing it in secret, where not even you knew about it. Chris has been cheating on Howie. Chris has been cheating on Howie, do you hear me?"

Justin liked to hear Brian's accent get thick like that.

"This is business," JC said. "Howie isn't a part of this project."

"Business or not, it comes down to Steve or Howie. I'm choosing Howie over Steve. And I don't want to, JC, but if I have to, I'll choose Howie over you."

"It doesn't have to come down to that," JC said. But for Brian, it did.

In Justin's humble opinion: damn. Cross one Backstreet Boy, and you were marked for life. By all five.

Chris opened the door. Howie. Howie didn't look sad, or tired, or hurt. Mostly, he looked calm. But it was false calm. Chris wasn't afraid of Howie hitting him or getting violent, but he did fear Howie's anger. He was afraid of what Howie might say.

Howie might leave him.

The very thought made Chris want to fall on the floor, screaming and sobbing, clutching at Howie, begging. But he didn't.

He might have to, later.

His pride meant nothing, nothing at all, if Howie left him.

"Are you in love with him?"

"No!" God, no, never. No one but Howie, never anyone but Howie. He watched Howie walk past him across the room. "He's just a friend, we're just friends." He was in love with Howie, couldn't Howie see?

"Did you have sex with him?"

"No. No."

"How long have you been kissing him?"

"I'm not! I'm not, I... He kisses me sometimes, just to be affectionate. But we're just friends." He couldn't say it enough times. Maybe because it wasn't exactly true.

"How long?" Howie repeated.

"Two weeks, maybe longer," Chris said.

"Has he touched you?"

"No." Not like that. Not sexually, not anywhere interesting.

"Why do you invite his kiss?"

"I don't!"

"You did today."

"He likes me," Chris said. "He wants me, he likes me. It feels good to be liked. Someone wants me, a man wants me, just me. It was easy to be friends with him, and when I figured out that he wanted to be with me, it was flattering. It was nice."

"You wanted to feel liked. To feel wanted."

"Yes."

"Don't I make you feel that way?"

"You make me feel every way," Chris said. "But it's not the same. He's a man, he's human, he's - - you're nothing like that. Steve and I are equals."

"You and I are equals."

"You're above me," Chris said. "That's part of the rush. But I wanted to know that I could make it in a real relationship."

"If you left me for him, I wouldn't stop you," Howie said.

"Leave you?" Chris asked. He didn't understand.

"You want to be with him. He flatters you, he makes you feel good about yourself, you like it that he wants you. You have things to prove to yourself. Go ahead."

"You-"

"I'm not being facetious, Chris. I mean it."

Maybe that made it worse. "You want me to leave you?"

"You want someone else," Howie said.

"I don't want him! It was interesting, it was nice. I was stupid, I never should have done it, but I knew I'd fuck up this relationship sooner or later. I don't know if I was leading him on or not. I don't know what I thought was going to happen when you came to visit. I wasn't thinking."

"You were thinking about how good it feels to be with someone new. Someone who hasn't hurt you. It's easier with him. There aren't complications, there aren't painful memories, your friends don't hate him. It's so new that even if there are complications, they're fun ones, interesting ones. Nothing about him hurts you."

"Nothing about you hurts me," Chris said, and it was a lie.

"Why didn't you have sex with him?"

"I didn't want to," Chris said. "I wasn't interested in him as a person. I was interested in him because he was interested in me. I knew he liked me; he was obvious about it right away. But I didn't want sex with him. He wasn't you. He can't be you, no one can be you."

"Do you want to be with him?"

"No."

"Do you want to be with me?"

"Yes." Yes, yes, Chris clung to the word.

Howie touched him for the first time, a hand on the side of his neck, and kissed him. Chris opened his mouth, desperate for the kiss, but Howie walked away again. "What can I do to make sure this never happens again?" Howie asked.

Howie meant it, too; Chris could tell. Howie never wanted it to happen again. Never wanted to see Chris with someone else. Never wanted Chris to invite another person's kiss. Never wanted Chris to toy with the idea of being with anyone who wasn't Howie.

"Show me you love me," Chris said. "Real love, between humans, between equals. And not through sex; you're too good at that."

"I won't apologize to him," Howie said. "I shouldn't have hit him. But when I saw him, when I saw you letting him, when I saw that you were inviting him, that he knew that he could... Chris, it hurt me so much I had to hurt back. I couldn't hurt you, I will never strike you and I couldn't yell at you, I couldn't yell at you because if you were doing this then it wasn't all you, if you were with someone else then I wasn't enough and maybe that was my fault. But I had to hurt someone, I had to make someone else feel my pain. It was too much to keep inside. And him, he was the perfect target. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to make him pay, and pay, and pay."

Howie meant every word. This wasn't dramatics, wasn't calculated for effect.

"I didn't know how far it had gone between you. I didn't know whether he'd been with you the way I've been with you. He could have been in your bed that morning, could have planned to be in your bed that night. What if he knew you the way I know you? He might know what it's like to feel you inside him. He might have fucked you, fucked you, it would have been fucking because it couldn't have been making love because he couldn't love you as much as I love you. I make love to you because I'm in love with you, and his love would never compare to mine."

Howie had never talked to him like this. Not once in the time that they'd been together. He'd always known that there was more inside Howie, but this? This depth of passion? For him?

"I know what you like," Howie said. "I know the way you want to be touched. The way you touch me, what if you'd been touching him that way? And I could almost see you putting your fingers in his hair, and I wanted... I wanted to scalp him. I wanted it so badly I could almost feel the handle of the knife in my hand."

He'd never thought about Steve's hair. Definitely not like that. It was nice hair, short and blond and kind of thick, if he gave it any consideration. But he hadn't given it any consideration. He had a sort of fetish, maybe, for hair, yes, but for Howie's hair, only Howie's hair, no one else's.

And right now Howie's hair was wavy, and in the lobby it had been straight, and how was that possible? What could it mean, except that Howie had taken a shower in between now and then? But why would Howie shower, except to wash away that lobby encounter, except to cleanse himself from what had happened? And that, that was Chris's fault, one more thing for which he was to blame.

"I am not a violent person," Howie said. "But he was with you in the lobby, and I didn't know if he was with you in your bed, with you in your heart."

No! No, no...

"I thought that I was enough. Even when we're separated, I thought that I could give you enough. But I'm not, I haven't. Chris." He still wasn't touching Chris, and that could mean several things, and Chris didn't want to know which one it was. "Chris," he said again. "Tell me what I can do to be enough for you. How can I show you that I love you?"

Maybe Chris didn't have to wait to be touched. He put his hand on Howie's arm. "I think you just did."

Nick chickened out at the last second and turned off his phone. "You do it."

"No." Drew was sitting up in bed with him, waiting for him to call Brian. He was going to call Brian. Any minute now. Or later. Yeah, later. Later sounded good. "Dial," Drew said. Ooohhh, firm Drew. Drew was a dom.

"He's probably busy," Nick said.

"He's busy waiting for you to show up," Drew said. "You have to call before he starts worrying about you."

"He won't be that worried," Nick said.

"Very worried, slightly worried - - if you call him, he won't be worried at all. At least not about that."

"You promised to back me up," Nick said, just to remind him, in case he'd forgotten.

"I don't agree that you should have come here, especially behind our backs," Drew said. "But now that you're here, I'd like for you to stay."

"I had to come behind your backs," Nick said. "You have to tell Brian that you want me to stay. And that Nick's been very good to me and Justin's cool. And that I give good head."

"What does that have to do with this?" Drew asked.

"Nothing, but say it anyway. In case he forgot."

"Forgot?"

"You've got my back, right?"

"Right," Drew promised.

"You won't give in to him?"

"I won't. Unless he makes a good point."

"Drew sucks," Nick muttered to no one in particular, and dialed.

Brian answered. "Hello?" He sounded a little, small bit anxious.

"Hi, Brian. It's Nick." He didn't know what to say; he never called Brian.

"Nick! You're supposed to be on the plane right now. Is that where you're calling from?"

"I'm calling from bed. A hotel bed. Drew's hotel bed. Drew's here with me. Do you want to say hi?"

Silence.

"Are you still there?" He hadn't given much thought to the idea that Brian would drop everything and run over here to rescue him, but-

"I knew it," Brian said, but he didn't sound very proud of himself. "I knew it. Nick. What are you doing there?"

"Visiting."

"What are you doing over there?" Brian asked again. "They didn't even know that you were coming. I know that you want to see Drew, but you shouldn't have dropped in on them like that."

"I didn't just drop in. Nick invited me, and I said yes. He knew I was coming, and he told everybody. Everybody except Drew."

"Nick," Brian repeated.

Oops. He hadn't meant to put the other Nick on Brian's shit list. "He's been very nice to me. We're friends. Good friends. Drew wasn't happy to see me at first, but Nick's been great."

"Of course Drew was happy to see you."

"Not really. His body was real happy to see me, once he got over the shock. But at first, oh, he was mad. But we're all better now. He wants me to stay."

"What?" Brian asked.

"Yep. He wants me to stay. We're going to have a good time. So, how's life with *NSYNC?"

"A lot more interesting than I'd anticipated," Brian said. "Nick, I want you to come here."

"I like it here. It's nice in bed with Drew. You should try it sometime."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Will you let me talk to Drew?"

"Nope. How's JC?"

"All right. Tell me why you should stay there."

"Drew's here. That's the first fifty hundred reasons. Plus, Nick's here, and I kind of wanted to see him. Justin's cool, so there's a reason. I want to be here, I want to be on tour with Drew, I want to watch him work. I want to see him be Drew Lachey from 98 Degrees, in action." He glanced over and saw that Drew was blushing and trying not to listen.

"What about Jeff?"

"I'm going to work on that," Nick said. "I want to try."

Silence.

"Now it's your turn to say something," Nick said.

"I want to be there with you when you try," Brian said. "I don't want you to do it without me."

"Why?" Nick asked, because he suspected that he knew why.

"So that I can protect you," Brian said softly.

"I should try to do it on my own, without you to protect me," Nick said. "You can support me, if you want. And Drew's here. He's kind of ripped; he can be my protector."

"I love you. I miss you, and I'll pray for you."

"You always pray for me. Hey. You're saying it's okay if I stay?"

"It's your decision," Brian said. "If you stay, if you come here, if you go home, I'll support you."

"You can't say that you miss me," Nick said. "It's only been a few days."

"A day without you is a day without sunlight."

He could almost feel Brian touching his face while saying those words. "I had to leave one angel to visit the other," Nick said. "I want to be able to have both of you at once. It isn't right, only having one or the other."

"Soon," Brian promised. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Do you want to talk to - - wait, first, what's going on over there? Are they getting weird? Did Justin hit on you yet?"

Brian, Nick, and Howie were out of town.

That left Kevin.

AJ paid Kevin a few visits, hung out with him a few times. Kevin was good company, especially without the stress of the job. When it was just them, no tour, no pressure; when it was just them, no hangers-on, not even another Backstreet Boy; when it was just them, things were good. Things were great. They could talk, one-on-one, man-to-man. Friend to friend. They could go places, do things.

AJ bought Kevin a shirt.

He bumped into Kevin in a club two nights later, and Kevin was wearing the shirt. Wearing the shirt, and wearing a curvaceous blonde. By the end of the night, the two of them were at Kevin's place, the curvaceous blonde was long-forgotten, and Kevin's shirt was open. Open the whole way down the front, showing the white T-shirt beneath. That T-shirt kept anyone - - kept AJ - - from seeing the bare expanse of Kevin's chest, but AJ liked it anyway.

He wanted to touch it.

He wanted to touch Kevin through it. He wanted Kevin to feel that peculiar thwarted touch, almost skin-on-skin, one taunting barrier. He wanted to put his mouth on Kevin's chest through that T-shirt, his hot moist breath over Kevin's nipple.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't entirely over Kevin. But come on, Kevin was damned sexy. And he was just thinking; he wasn't planning to do anything.

Besides, even if he tried to do something, Kevin wouldn't let him. Kevin must have designed an internal switch to be flipped on and off at will. Kevin was in love with him but decided not to pursue that interest, and that was the way things were. Then Kevin decided to pursue him after all, and that was the way things were. Now Kevin had flipped the "actively loving AJ" switch off again, and no one but AJ knew that things were not what they seemed.

AJ couldn't do that. He wasn't a strict disciplinarian like Kevin was. He could control his voice, he could control his body, but he couldn't control his emotions. No one could.

He decided to test Kevin. He never had, before. Not really. Not intentionally. No doubt before and during the Lance Era, he'd put Kevin to the test without meaning to, just by being his sexy-ass self who didn't know any better. But now, he was going to do it on purpose. Just to be a jackass.

Kevin was sitting there on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, arms spread along the back of the couch, legs open. Casual, masculine.

AJ sat in his lap and tried to kiss him.

Kevin had a hand on his chin, keeping him out of kissing distance, before he ever made contact with Kevin's mouth. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"No, AJ."

"We've done it before."

"We're not going to do it again."

AJ let his hips start a slow groove against Kevin's thigh. He licked out, letting Kevin remember his tongue. "Come on, Kevin. I won't tell."

"AJ, get off me," Kevin said, not amused by the child's antics.

AJ stopped moving, sighing for effect but, inside, impressed. If he had gotten what he wanted, if Kevin had given in to him, he would have been disappointed. He liked how strong Kevin was, rock-solid, unaffected. He put his hand on Kevin's chest. Kevin's body was as perfect and untouchable as Kevin's strictly ordered mind was.

But he'd touched Kevin's body. Back in Kendig, he'd done a lot more than just touch it. If he closed his eyes, he could remember it, on the bed, overtaken by passion, Kevin behind him, thrusting into him in even deep strokes, fucking, making love, and he'd known at once how right it was, how wrong it was.

Kevin's thumb ran along his jaw, and he opened his eyes.

He was back with Drew, and everything was good. Brian was okay with it. Good day. Nick spooned up behind Drew, closing his eyes, running his fingers down through Drew's pubic hair to cup Drew's soft cock. He sniffed along Drew's neck. Sweat and sex and Drew. Could things be any better?

Better, yes, if Brian were here. But that would happen soon. And for now, things were pretty damned good. He had Drew.

Nick opened his eyes. "You don't want to masturbate anymore? Drew? Hey. Drew."

Drew groaned, rolling over to put his face in the pillow.

"Why don't you want to masturbate anymore?"

"When did I tell you that?" Drew asked, voice muffled.

"When you were fucking me. The first time. You said you ran out of lube, and you weren't getting any more because you don't want to masturbate as often. How often were you doing it, anyway?"

Drew raised his head and looked at Nick. "You're going to make me tell you."

"Yeah."

Drew rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. "I was doing it once a day. In the hotel, when I could. On the bus, if I had to."

"Once a day, that's not bad. That's like a bodily function."

"I started to have..."

"What? I can't guess. The sentence started out way too vague."

"Fantasies."

"On purpose?"

"Yes."

"Way to go, Drew! I'm so proud." Nick kissed the side of his head. "Good fantasies? About what?"

"About you and Brian."

"Us? Without you?"

"The two of you."

"What were we doing?"

"Having sex."

"Good sex?"

"Yes."

"And you wanted to stop this why?"

"It wasn't right. There was something wrong with turning you and Brian into a sex show in my head. You're complex people, and I love you."

"Was it degrading sex?"

"No."

"Was it stuff we'd probably do in real life, and might have been doing the very second you were thinking about it?"

"Maybe, but-"

"We know you love us. Everybody knows. You can be properly respectful, and lovey-dovey cute, at other times. You want us, and your body has sexual needs. Your needs weren't being fulfilled, and your body knew it. Your brain knew it. Sexual fantasies never hurt anybody. And if you tell us some of the good ones, we can act them out for you."

They'd tried to do other things. Chris and Howie had talked, watched TV, eaten. But that tension, that separation, was still between them. Chris was afraid to get close to Howie, to touch him or lean against him. He didn't know how he'd be received. He might be rejected.

Chris had been the one to fuck up, so he should make the first move. But he kept hoping that Howie would do it, anyway. That wasn't fair. It was his place. And if Howie did reject him, well, he deserved it.

Maybe at the next commercial break.

Maybe the commercial break after that.

Five more minutes.

When the little hand was on the twelve.

Chris closed his eyes, whispered, "One, two, three, go," and turned, opening his eyes and aiming a kiss for Howie's mouth. He was too slow; before he could kiss Howie, Howie cupped his chin in one hand.

Howie was touching his mouth.

That seemed like a good thing...

"Did you like the way he kissed you?" Howie asked without meeting his eyes.

There was this knot of pain in Chris's stomach. It tightened when Howie stopped touching him. "It was okay. It was kissing, and kissing is good. But it wasn't important. It wasn't anything like kissing you."

"He didn't...touch you."

"No."

Howie touched his cheek. "Try me again."

Chris closed his eyes. "One, two, th-" and Howie was kissing him.

Maybe he got a little desperate. Maybe he wanted to know that Howie was here, that he could have this. He fell onto his back on the sofa, pulling Howie right with him, tangling his fingers in Howie's hair, urging Howie to have his mouth, take it, own it. Maybe Howie felt it too, or maybe Howie was doing it to humor him, but Howie's kiss was fast, hard, a tongue-twister, and Howie's teeth scraped his lower lip, and it hurt; and that made sense, that Howie's kiss would hurt him now.

Howie grabbed him, pulling him up, onto his feet. They ended up on the bed, in the same position, like they'd never moved. Chris's cock was hard, aching and wanting, but he ignored it; it wasn't time for that now.

Howie stopped kissing him.

Chris lowered his hands, letting go.

Howie tucked his hair behind his ears.

"Why did you sleep with AJ?"

"Because he's my best friend," Howie said. "You'd stopped returning my calls. You'd even stopped answering my calls. I left you messages, I e-mailed you, I talked to your friends, I talked to your family, I talked to half of the people at FuMan. They wouldn't let us visit each other on tour then. I did everything I could think of, Chris. I didn't know what was wrong. If something had been wrong, someone would have told me. So the problem must be personal; it must be us. I didn't know what I'd done, or what you were thinking. AJ was companionship, reassurance. We shared our bodies. It wasn't about romantic love. We didn't have any illusions about that. He had Lance, and I was in love with you. We'd talk about you, about you and Lance."

"Why did it have to be AJ?"

"It couldn't have been anyone else. I couldn't have trusted anyone but another one of the guys to share that with me without him misunderstanding it. Brian and Nick, obviously I couldn't go to them. Kevin was denying that he was anything but completely heterosexual. AJ understood my position."

"Are you sorry?"

"I'm sorry that it hurt you. If I'd known how much damage it would do between us, I wouldn't have done it."

Chris believed him.

"I'm sorry," Howie said softly, and the backs of his fingers brushed gently over Chris's temple.

Chris closed his eyes.

"I want to stay here with you," Howie said. "For the rest of the tour."

Chris opened his eyes. There was any question, any doubt? He'd planned to beg Howie to stay for the week. And Howie was volunteering, was asking, to stay for the rest of the tour. "Yes. Please."

"When we leave, you'll come home with me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"I love you," Howie said.

He didn't just believe those words from Howie, now. He thought that he understood, as well. "I love you," he said, and touched the ends of Howie's hair where they fell forward over Howie's shoulder.

Howie kissed him, getting closer now, and he could feel the heat from Howie's body. "Make love to me," Howie said, a soft request between kisses.

How had this turned out to be one of the best days of Chris's life?

JC was firing Steve Jerome. Justin, waiting for him, talked to Lance in the hallway. It turned out that Lance had suspected that all was not innocent between Chris and Steve. But Lance, of course, had no great love for Howie, and there wasn't proof, so he'd decided to let it go. Justin had wondered about Chris and Steve, too, but he'd been sure that Chris loved Howie too much to consider another man. Maybe Chris and Steve really were just friends, and it was a one-time mean-nothing peck.

"You kissed JC, and that didn't mean anything," Justin said. "It happened once, and nothing's developed since."

"Right," Lance said.

Mm-hmm. Liar, liar, pants on fire, Lance's bra has underwire. Justin knew one thing; he was never again going to ask JC to kiss Lance. Things had been different then. Right now, no way. Because this time, it would mean something, at least to Lance.

While Justin and Lance were talking, JC came from the elevators. "How'd it go?" Justin asked.

JC put an arm around Justin's waist, kissing his cheek. "He's calling the airlines to book a flight home. And he won't be saying good-bye to Chris in the morning."

"When the Backstreet Boys cut you off, you're cut off," Justin said. JC was still kissing the side of his face, slow and soft, like JC didn't want to let go of him and didn't care who was watching.

"How's his face?" Lance asked.

"Ugly," JC said. "Howie should be a boxer." He was rubbing Justin's back and kissing up into Justin's curls.

"Uh, JC, don't tell me you want Steve," Justin said.

"No," JC said. Then he stopped kissing, pulling back to look at Justin. "Why?"

"You're on me," Justin said.

"He's always on you," Lance said.

"It feels different," Justin said. It did. It felt like more than JC's standard reaction to seeing him. Like there was something more on JC's mind.

JC whispered in his ear. "The elevator." The ele...? "I want to make love to you in it."

Sometimes, when Chris made love to Howie, when they were face-to-face, Howie got on top and rode his dick like a pro. It always made Chris so freaking hot, always made him come too soon, to be there for that. To be under Howie, in Howie, watching.

The rhythm of it, the way he knew that every time Howie came back down on him his cock was hitting the spot just right. Sweat glistening on Howie's chest, Howie's muscles. Sometimes it felt like he wasn't there, like he wasn't a part of it, like it was just Howie, Howie using his cock like a tool for pleasure. Holy god that was the biggest turn-on of all, when he felt himself disappear, when he thought that he was seeing pure, unadulterated Howie, Howie's sexuality and Howie's lust and Howie's pleasure. Like that would be the way it was if Howie could do this alone.

He loved the way Howie's attention centered on the pleasure created in the very spot their bodies joined. It was all about his cock, and what his cock was doing for Howie. When he was on top, other things mattered, and they'd touch, and they'd kiss, and they'd look at each other, and it was about them, together. But when Howie was on top, and Chris was nothing but a dick, a tool for pleasure, it was no longer about them. It was about Howie's yearning quest for orgasm.

But tonight, he was making love to Howie, face-to-face, on top. Tonight, Howie was under him, muscles closing tight over his cock, hair spread over the pillow. Tonight, it was about them, their love, their connection.

Sometimes when they made love, Howie was seducing him. It wasn't an act, so much as a natural display. That was just the way Howie did things. That was part of why Chris kept falling in love with him, over and over again.

It was in the way Howie moved, the flip of hair, the looks, the grace. Hell, it was in the wink. Chris would be amazed, and Howie would draw him in, reel him in, seduce him right out of his pants. Right out of his grip on reality.

Howie could seduce Chris dressed, naked, under him, over him, in bed, out of bed, in person, over the phone, first thing in the morning or last thing at night. When Howie did it in the morning, before Chris even had a chance to get out of bed, he was on cloud nine all day. He sailed right through his day, happy and somewhat oblivious. When Howie did it at night, it made a bad day good. All of the pressures of the day, every little minor thing that had gone wrong, all of his worries, meant nothing. Everything was Howie, and life was beautiful, and he fell asleep with a smile. Because he was in love.

Because he was under Howie's spell.

But tonight, Howie wasn't Chris’s seducer. Tonight, Howie was Chris’s lover. Chris was making love to him. Chris had entered him, and they were joined.

Nick jumped onto the bus. Drew followed more slowly, letting him investigate. Really, Drew wanted to stand to one side and watch and admire. Nick was here. With him.

He'd watched Nick sleep last night.

Nick was checking out everything. He finished with the kitchen area and started to poke around the bunks.

"Nick, that's Justin's. Get out of there."

"I can tell," Nick said. "No dildos."

"What? We do not have - - there aren't any on this bus, in anyone's bunk," Drew said.

"That's because I haven't bought one for you. Yet," Nick said.

"Yet?" Drew repeated. Oh, no.

"I'm going to get you one," Nick said. "Drew, you're a slut for your prostate. All you need is a little something to help you out, and you'll be set for life."

Drew was glad that no one else was on the bus right then. "That's Nick's bunk."

Nick stuck his head in anyway. "I can tell. It smells like him. I like the way he smells. It smells like Jeff, too. Spicy like Nick, clean like Jeff. Is this your bunk? Let me see. Does it feel like Drew belongs in here?" Nick climbed right in.

"Make yourself comfortable," Drew said.

"There's stuff in here," Nick said. "Drew, why do you have girly teen magazines in here?"

Drew winced. If he'd known Nick was coming, he would've gotten rid of those.

"Guess what? They're all folded back open right to pictures of Brian, or me, or both of us. Look at this. Hey, I remember that day. This is a good picture of Brian. Can I keep this one? Look at how good he looks. I'd do him in a heartbeat."

"Good morning," Justin said, climbing onto the bus.

Nick came out of the bunk. "Hi, Justin."

"Good humor is one thing. I'm an advocate of good humor," Justin said. "But being happy and perky this early in the morning, I just can't support."

"It won't last," Nick promised. "It's just this morning because I'm still excited about being with Drew. Another couple of days and you'll know what it's really like to tour with a Backstreet Boy."

"Why does that sound ominous?" Justin asked Drew.

Nick and Jeff came up behind Justin. "Morning," Nick said. There was a minute of people-shuffling as Justin went to his bunk to sleep and Jeff made himself scarce. "Have you talked to Brian yet?" Nick asked.

"Of course," Nick said. "He's very happy with my decision to spend time with Drew."

"He needs a break from you?" Nick guessed.

"Ha, you're so funny," Nick said. "He misses me."

"I'm sure he does," Nick said, touching Nick's chin in one of those guy-acceptable affectionate moves.

"There's porn in Drew's bunk."

"Drew doesn't like porn."

"Porn magazines. He's a guy. He has to like porn."

"He doesn't. I don't."

"I do." Nick smiled. "I like to watch."

Nick turned red right up to the tips of his ears, remembering a few times Nick had watched him.

"I almost forgot - - next time you talk to Brian, he might be a little irritated with you. For inviting me here and then keeping it a secret. But he'll get over it. Oh! One more thing. What are the sex rules for this bus?"

"What?"

"Don't stall. What are the rules?"

"No sex on the bus," Nick said.

Snorts of laughter from Justin's bunk.

"A little," Nick said. "If you have to. In the bunk, and quietly."

"Oh, this bus sucks," Nick said.

"I don't think I want to know the rules for your bus," Nick said.

"Yeah, it's an orgy," Nick said. "So let me guess. Drew's never had sex on this bus, and he's not used to anyone practicing free love around here, so he's going to be all strict about it until I break him in."

"Break him in?" Nick repeated.

"Relax. I've been popping his cherry over and over again every time something new comes up. This one'll be nothing."

"Nick," Drew said, reaching over and pulling his boyfriend aside, "promise me that, while you're on this tour, you won't talk to anyone who isn't an official member of 98 Degrees."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone."

"Uh...okay."

"Thank you."

"Drew, I've been in this business for longer than today. Kevin might think that I don't know how to act in front of reporters, but I've never said anything about my private life, or anyone else's private life, to anyone outside of a very small group of people. I can tell AJ about Brian's private life, because it's AJ, he's one of the fellas. I can tell your brother about your private life because he's in your private life. I tell JC stuff. But when Brian and I are talking, and then some person comes along to style my hair, it's a different conversation."

"You tell JC stuff?"

"Are you listening to me? Short people. Everything you say goes right over their heads, literally. Your ears need to be closer up here so you can hear me when I'm talking to you."

"What do you tell JC?"

Nick shrugged. "We're friends."

"Yes, I know. What do you tell him?"

"Nothing."

Drew was suspicious. "Nick. What-"

"Who's up for Yahtzee?"

AJ had been deep asleep, lost to the black void of nothingness, when he was grabbed and rolled roughly onto his back, then slapped.

His eyes popped open and he was about to fight, when he saw that it was Kevin, not a stranger; Kevin, not an assault.

Damn it, he was going to fight anyway. What the fuck was - - but Kevin pinned him down. "AJ! AJ. What did you take? How much did you take?"

"What? What the hell are you doing here?!"

"You didn't answer your phone, not here, not your cell phone. I came over to make sure that you were all right, and when I get here your place is trashed. And then I found this." Kevin let go of AJ's arm and dangled a small, clear bag in front of his eyes. "What is it, AJ? Where did you get it?"

Oh. Shit. He remembered that. "I didn't take any of it. You know I don't do drugs, I haven't since - - I didn't take any of it!" he shouted, since Kevin's judging, condemning expression hadn't changed. "I picked up these girls, and they had it with them."

"What if something had happened? What if one of them overdosed while she was with you?"

"They knew what they were doing." AJ suddenly didn't like being pinned down by Kevin, didn't like being under Kevin, and he was naked, spread and naked and he hated it, he had to get up, he had to - - he pushed and fought, and Kevin released him. AJ was up and off of the bed in an instant, grabbing a robe, pulling it close around himself.

"What's wrong with your phones?" Kevin asked.

"I turned off my cell."

"I've told-"

"That's your rule, Kevin. Not mine. I can turn off my fucking cell phone whenever I want to. If there's a big fucking emergency, I'll hear about it sooner or later."

"And your phone here?"

"I turned off the ringer."

"Off?"

"Off." AJ walked out of the bedroom. Kevin had been exaggerating. His entire place wasn't trashed. Just the living room and the bedroom.

Kevin followed him. Kevin could be relentless. "You picked up girls - - how many, again?"

"Ten," AJ snapped. He went into the bathroom to take a piss. "Three." The bathroom mirror showed him how shit-like he looked. When he came out, Kevin was cleaning.

"You picked up three girls, brought them here, they got high, the four of your trashed your place - - and you had to turn off your phone to do that?"

"I didn't want to be interrupted," AJ said. "Let me cut off this interrogation right now. You do not have the right to ask about how I choose to spend my time. You do not have the right to come into my home uninvited without my knowledge. And don't you ever grab me like that again."

"I thought you were passed out."

"From drugs. Which you know I don't take."

"They were right beside the bed!"

"Get out."

"AJ, what's going on? Three girls? This destructive behavior?"

"I wanted a change. Put that shit down! Stop trying to clean up! It's not your job to fix everything for me, Kevin. It's not your place to fix my life."

Kevin looked at him.

Fuck. He'd said too much.

Kevin put it down. "I came over because Howie was worried. He's been trying to call you."

Shit. Kevin had only come to check on him for Howie's sake. "I'll call him."

"I didn't mean to grab you, or to accuse you... When I saw the state of this place, and then I saw... It scared me." Apology.

"It looked bad," AJ said. Apology accepted.

"Do you want some help with the mess?"

"No." He wanted the punishment of doing it himself.

Kevin nodded and walked towards the door. He stopped. "Why did they leave it here?"

Shit, yet again. The fact that it was still here looked bad, like it really was his stash. On the other hand, the truth wasn't much better. "I think it was a thank-you."

"I know you're good in bed, AJ, but that's an expensive gift."

Good in bed, Kevin knew that he was good in bed, he could pretend that Kevin was just saying it as a joke, the way Brian might say it, but Kevin knew, Kevin did know, because he'd been in bed with Kevin. Because he'd had sex with Kevin. "Do you want the truth?"

"Yes," Kevin said.

"They were whores. Prostitutes. I bought them, and I paid for them, and I paid them so much they left some of their shit behind for me."

"AJ." The shock, the disappointment, the lack of comprehension.

"Get out."

Kevin left.

Chris got up to pee. He talked to Joey.

"How's he doing?" Joey asked.

"Who?"

"Howie," Joey said. "Who, who do you think?"

"He's sleeping," Chris said. "He's going to stay out of your way. When he's not with me, he'll be with Brian."

"It's okay. I don't mind him as much as I used to."

Chris stared at Joey, waiting for further signs of mental deterioration.

"Really," Joey said. "I think it's because he saw what was going down and he regulated, and then he forgave you. That's really decent of him. I think he really does care about you."

"It's called being in love," Chris said. "Maybe someday you'll learn about it."

"Maybe," Joey said. "Someday."

It was almost impossible for Chris to offend Joey, because Joey was his best friend in a way that understood and forgave every hurt, slight or damaging. But right then, Chris felt bad. Because he'd seen the sadness, the loneliness, behind Joey's words. If Joey hurt, it wasn't a drama. Joey bore pain bravely, without complaint.

Joey had friends. He had *NSYNC. He had countless transient girlfriends. But love? A partner? Someone to share his life with one-on-one, the two of them against the world? JC had Justin, and Justin had JC. Chris had Howie. Lance didn't have anyone at the moment, but Lance also had no time for Joey.

Chris wanted Joey to be happy. He wanted Joey to have love.

Chris thought about it. He needed to find someone for Joey. Someone worthy of Joey's freely-given love. In one sense, it was going to be difficult, because he had the entire human population to draw from. Joey didn't have a type; Joey liked everybody. Well, for one thing, it had to be a female. That cut out half of the people right there. Second... Hmm... "Joey, what do you look for in a woman?"

"A tight cunt," Joey said.

"Anything else?" Chris wasn't going to go from club to club, testing women's private parts for Joey.

"Recently... I don't know. I keep hooking up with blondes."

"Blonde," Chris repeated, to remember.

"And light eyes. Not dark, not brown. Blue. Or maybe...green."

"Green eyes," Chris said. Blonde hair, green eyes. Okay. He could work from there. Speaking of those personal statistics, "Are you and Lance going to kiss and make up, or should we start plans to break up the band now?"

"I'll apologize to him tomorrow," Joey said.

"How about now? Now's good. Now works for me."

"Later," Joey said.

"Within twenty-four hours," Chris said.

"Forty-eight."

"Twenty-four."

"Seventy-two."

"Twenty-four. Why haven't you apologized to him already? When have you ever been on the outs with one of us for longer than an hour?"

"He's mad at me," Joey said. "He hates me."

Joey looked so, so hurt all of a sudden. Hurt and bewildered, like his puppy had run away and he didn't understand why. Lance was Joey's puppy? Hmm. Kind of. His little best friend he'd looked out for and taken care of and played with and wanted to be happy. And that ungrateful bastard had bitten him and run off.

Maybe things would be better once Lance got a new boyfriend.

When the group meeting broke, Drew went back to his bunk. He got in, draping himself over Nick's back. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at pictures," Nick said.

"Don't go through my magazines."

"Where'd you get them?"

"Justin gave them to me."

"This one has a cum stain on it."

"It does not."

"Do you jerk off when you look at these?"

"No."

"You should. I would. You want to?"

"What? No!"

"It'll be fun."

"No. I do not want to do that. That's not what they're for."

"What are they for?"

"So I can...look at you and Brian. When I, when I miss you."

"Aw, how sweet. Come on, get your dick out."

"No!"

"Okay. That's cool. Maybe later. Hey, where's that other guy named Nick?"

"I think he's on the bus."

"You're a funny Drew, aren't you? Let me up. I want to talk to him."

"About what?"

"About it's none of your business. You stay here and sleep. You need to rest as much as you can on the bus, so I can spend our hotel time fucking you."

Drew's asshole contracted in a quick spasm of pleasure. He tried to recover himself during the brief confusion as he got out of the bunk, Nick got out of the bunk, and he got back in.

"Oh, Drew." Nick leaned in, voice a whisper. "Brian promised me, he promised me, that when we all get home you'll do me one right after the other, the patented one-two punch. Brian said it's okay, so you have to do it, too. We're going to do it right away so you'll both be really horny and maybe you'll both do me twice."

Drew held very still. He was no longer breathing.

"Okay, I'm going to go talk to Nick. You sleep." Nick kissed him and disappeared.

Drew couldn't inhale right.

matthew@matthewtime.com
"Where You Belong" Part Five
"Where You Belong"
"Living"
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