Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairing: Nick Carter/Kevin Richardson

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys are their own people.  The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life.  This writing is a work of fiction.  I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor, the Savage Garden slashers, and David.

Wherein Nick takes care of business, says he'll take care of Kevin, and then takes Kevin.

Notice: Third in a series.  Blame David.

        Five days.

        Five nights.

        He was growing desperate.

        He knew that Nick had picked up the make-up guy at their photo shoot.  The make-up girl, too.  Other than that, he suspected that Nick's bed was empty.  Why wasn't Nick coming to him?  What if Nick never came back?

        He tried to imagine Life Without Nick, but it was such a vast void that his mind shied away from it.  He needed Nick.  He wanted Nick.  He loved Nick.

        Nick needed him, too.  He was good to Nick.  He gave Nick everything that Nick wanted.  No one else loved Nick like he did.  No one else could.  Nick wouldn't leave him for good.

        Would he?

        His fingers moved smoothly in and out of his ass.  With the ease of practice he stretched the muscle, massaging gently.  This wasn't for his own pleasure.  There was no point in pleasuring himself, because if he got hard he couldn't do anything about it.  Nick didn't let him masturbate.

        He finished, recapped the tube, pulled up his pants, and stepped out of the bathroom.  When the bus ride ended, he rose and headed for the door with the others.  Nick caught his elbow from behind and stopped him in the aisle.  Low in his ear, Nick whispered, "As soon as I'm finished with her, you and I have some business to take care of.  You wait for me."

        "Her" turned out to be a pretty young blonde Austrian.  Kevin held the door for her.

        He waited, naked, lying in his bed in the light of the bedside lamp.  If he waited too long, the lube would be worthless and Nick's fuck would hurt.  But Nick might not fuck him tonight, anyway.

        Finally the door opened, then closed and locked.  Nick was barefoot but dressed.  Nick came over him, kneeling above him, pulling him up for a deep wet kiss.  He clutched at Nick's biceps and pulled Nick down, lying back again, sucking on Nick's tongue.  Nick pulled away again, sitting up, looking down at him.  One hand rubbed restlessly over his chest.  "Did you miss me?"

        "Yes."

        Nick pinched his right nipple idly.  "Roll over."  Nick knelt up; he rolled within the confines of Nick's legs, resting on his stomach, hugging the pillow.  Maybe now Nick would fuck him.

        The first touch of a wet finger confused him.  Nick was preparing him?  Maybe, since it was the first time since - - no, no.  It wouldn't be anything that innocuous.  Nick was up to something.  He grit his teeth and rode out the pleasure, waiting.

        Nick's fingers slipped free, and something else took their place in a slow, rotating push into his ass.  He forced himself to hold still and relax, tried not to struggle.  It wasn't as big as Nick, but it was bigger than that last plug.  It felt hard and artificial, uncomfortable and oh god he just wanted to get rid of it.  He hated it, hated it, hated it, and he was not going to cry, he wasn't.
 It started to move, sliding out, sliding back in, and as it moved it rotated.  No, no, no, he didn't want this, he didn't like this, this plastic crap up his ass, he wanted Nick, Nick's cock, he hadn't felt it or tasted it or seen it in so long, so so long, he didn't want this, he didn't, he didn't, no, please, no.

        Nick's hand smacked his ass.

        That was the cue.  And no matter how badly he didn't want to, he obeyed.  He moved his hips, faltering and ungraceful at first, until he found the rhythm.  Up, down, back, forth, as though encouraging, as though he might possibly be enjoying this false fuck.  It was torture, it was humiliating, and hot salty tears pricked at his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.  He was so angry and so ashamed and so scared he didn't know what to do, so he kept pumping his hips and sobbing into the pillow.

        One vicious twist and the plastic was yanked free.  He wept with relief.  Hands turned him, and he dropped to his back, and Nick's hand was on the back of his head.

        "Sshhh, sshhh, don't cry.  Sshhh," Nick said softly, soothingly.  One hand supported and guided his head, the other hand holding Nick's cock, and when the head bumped his lips he opened his mouth automatically.  Tears spilling down his face, Nick whispering sweet sympathy, he sucked and licked at Nick's cock.

        "Ssshh, ssshh," Nick said, "don't cry.  It's okay.  You're a good boy.  I won't hurt you.  Good boy.  Sshhh.  Ssshh.  No more tears.  No more tears, I'll take care of you."  Nick moaned softly, hips lifting.  "Don't cry.  My beautiful whore.  Beautiful," Nick's hips jerked, "beautiful whore.  Ooohh."  Nick's head fell back, Nick's hips pumping into his mouth.  "Beautiful whore.  So good.  Don't cry, don't - oh god - cry."

        He tasted salty tears and salty cum.  He swallowed it all.

        Nick pulled free.  He closed his mouth and watched Nick stretch.  "That was nice," Nick said.  "Maybe I will keep you."

        He realized with a crystal clear spike of fear that Nick really and truly had, seriously had, considered leaving him.  Behind Nick's simple, off-hand words were deep truths.

        "I don't know," Nick said.  "Is it worth the trouble?"

        Yes, yes, oh yes, it was worth everything.

        "It is so hard to find someone who gives decent head," Nick mused.  "At least you're good for that."

        Yes, yes, he was good, he'd be even better, he'd do anything.

        Nick laid down beside him, on one side, up on an elbow, temple resting on one fist.  "I'll keep you as long as you behave.  But you cannot let what happens in here interfere with what happens outside.  You do anything that might fuck up our work, I'm out of here.  Tell me you'll be good."

        He wet his lips.  "I'll be good."

        "Promise me."

        His heart was aching.  "I promise you, I promise I'll be good.  Please."

        Nick relented and kissed him.  It went on forever, Nick's tongue fucking his mouth, his hands roaming Nick's body.  He got one hand on Nick's cock and kept it there, not letting go, feeling Nick get hard in his hand, throb against his palm.  Finally, much later, when the kiss had gone on for so long his lips hurt, Nick rolled him over and thrust into him.

        It was a long, hard ride, and he tried to remember how to breathe, and he tried not to come, and he tried to make it good for Nick.  Nick kept saying things, things about him, some of them praise, some of them cruel, until he couldn't tell which was which anymore and they all made his cock hurt and they all made his heart hurt, and then Nick came inside of him and fell asleep, and he laid there with Nick too heavy on his back and his cock leaking pre-cum on the mattress, and all that mattered was that he had to be good so Nick would stay.