WARNING: This story contains relationships between adults of the same sex. If you are too young or if this isn't your thing, then don't read.
DISCLAIMER: This story is FICTION. It doesn't imply anything about the sexuality of Nick Carter, or any other Backstreet Boy, nor does it imply their characters and/or behaviour are as portrayed.
Yep, it's been a while, but I figured I owed to continue with it. If you like it (or not), please say why : ) e-mail: writing@vacant.co.uk (new address, but the old one works fine too.)
Chapter VII:
Grey light filtered in through the shuttered windows. Outside, the ceaseless rain continued to pour on to the garden. Inside, the dry morning smells of the kitchen swirled around the house like phantom food. The clock ticked loudly as the minute hand jerked a fraction closer to eight o'clock. Time was becoming tenuous, insubstantial, present still, but faded and. . . stretched. No more than a couple of days had passed since the beginning of the rains, but yet it felt as though the world had always had continuous rain, that there was simply no other state in which it could be. Padma lay on her bed in her parents house, staring up at the cracks in the eggshell-blue ceiling. She could hear the bustle of the woman who came in to do the cleaning outside in the corridor, and the shouts of the woman's child outside in the yard. She could smell the heavenly scent of maternal cooking seeping through the house like the dry rot, being absorbed by the walls and paint that had long reached saturation point. The emptiness in the marble- floored hallway flooded her senses and she felt restless, but energy to complete an action evaded her. The dripping of the water outside had long since grown old and jaded, a cynical reminder of her life, now as poisonous as mercury.
Then came the voice of her mother and the smell of a burning incense. Her mother in her quavering voice was singing her prayers in front of the small shrine outside. Padma was oddly touched by this. Everything was the same here, as it had always been. If only she could have stopped her life too, if... yet she was oddly self-composed about the events. She'd done her crying when she'd told Alex about Kevin at dinner, and then again when she had tried to tell Alex, but since then there had been nothing. A void of emotion that filled her.
Rubbing her eyes, Padma swung her feet out of the bed. They hit the cold stone floor with a shock, and her toes flexed once convulsively. In the front of her head was a pounding stronger than tides breaking on rocks, but she pushed past it to pull herself conclusively out of her bed and stand, if a little unsteadily.
Still her mother continued her prayers, and it drew her even further back into the past to when she was as small as she could remember, when the kohl around her eyes had made her wide-eyed and innocent, impervious to the admiring and sometimes jealous looks of the adults that had surrounded her from birth: aunts, uncles, second cousins, grandparents. But they all loved her, and would always smile and look up when they heard the jingling of her tiny black anklets. Her scarf would fly out behind her as she ran about the house, and her family nicknamed her the angel. How she used to enjoy going to temple with them and praying, and feeding the statues of the gods sweets.
She smiled.
She wanted it back. She wanted to be young again, and maybe, just maybe, if she had her faith...
The desire came to her, single, clear, and she wanted to fulfil it. The rain fell in drips off the eaves of the roof, in trickles down the gaps between the gutters and the drain, but everywhere there was sound, like a million complaining voices mashed all together, all assaulting her senses. Dammit, she hated this, she thought violently. Her hand involuntarily curled around the door- knob too hard, and she slowly pulled the door open. Her father sat in the same position he had always sat in, reading the newspaper. Her mother, entering, glanced worriedly at her and put down the tray she held. There was a silence.
". . . would you like some breakfast, dear?" asked her mother. Padma smiled weakly, and her mother bustled off to the kitchen. Her father lowered his newspaper and watched her as she toyed idly with the the cord of the telephone, rearranged the papers into neat piles on the table, watered the pot plant.
"Is there something you want, Padmini?" he asked. She looked up, a little startled at the use of his nickname for her.
She shook her head once, quickly, and then sat down on the bench, feeling very much as though she should be saying something intelligent. Her father regarded her from above his spectacles, but waited for her to say anything. The unhappy silence was broken by her mother returning with the food. Padma had forgotten how hungry she was, or, indeed when she had last eaten. She happily tucked into the meal.
"Padma," said her father. "Do you have any idea how long you're going to be off work for? I mean, it's been lovely having you back and everything, but your job won't wait for ever."
Padma nodded. "I know. But I had some leave saved up for ages anyway, so I might as well take it." There was a rustle and a knock at the door.
"Padma? I didn't realize you were staying here!"
"Raksha! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?!" asked Padma's mother.
"Oh well, you know me sis, never organized! How've you been?"
"I'm fine! But how are you? Why have you come? Nothing bad's happened, has it?"
Raksha Aunty shook her head. "No, quite the opposite, in fact." Her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mira's engaged to be married." She paused before the best bit. "To a doctor!"
"Oh Raksha!" Padma's mother stepped forward to give her sister a hug.
"Congratulations, Raksha," said Padma's father.
"But it's all so exciting, no? Think, the dress our mother gave us for our wedding days, we give to her!"
"Oh yes, and the jewellery..."
Padma tuned out, but her mind was awhirl. How was it at all possible that her cousin could be getting married? They'd pretty much grown up together, before Raksha Aunty had moved away. It was all so sudden -- she was sure that Mira wasn't doing it for the right reasons. "Aunty?" she spoke up suddenly. "May I go and see her?"
"Of course, Padmini! Why ever not?"
Padma barely even waited for the answer before hurriedly slipping her feet into her sandals and running out umbrella-less into the rain. With each step she got wetter and wetter, her pretty feet falling into the puddles on the uneven roads and coming out stained with dirt, her dress clinging close to her body, hair trickling and curling in thick strands on either side of her face. She didn't understand at all: she hadn't even heard anything from Mira about marriage, except when they were joking around. Padma leapt on the sticky, crowded bus just as it was about to depart, but not caring at all about the unpleasant atmosphere in the bus. The engine roared and propelled the bus forward with a jerk. Water dripped down the aisle and collected in little pools where the lino was uneven.
How... how was it at all possible? She and Mira had grown up together, being sent to the schools and mixing with the same people, and she was sure that she'd known her cousin better than to be ignorant of such an important development. She suddenly felt guilty for being so wrapped up in her stupid problems to pay attention to one of her best friends. Not for the first time, she berated herself for her preoccupation to the exclusion of all else. She seemed to be drowning in the ocean of self-pity and criticism into which she had readily jumped.
The bus lurched a little, and with a start, Padma realized that this was her stop. She pushed her way to the doors and dropped down, water splashing and leaping up at her ankles like an eager puppy. She walked quickly, head down, to the house that she had known so well when she was younger, and not even bothering to knock, walked straight in. Mira looked up from the desk in the front hall.
"Padma!" She got up and hugged her cousin, becoming a little damp in the process. "How are you? I heard you're on holiday."
Padma almost smiled. Her mother had a way of euphemistically twisting any bad situation. "Something like that, yeah," was what she said out loud. She returned to the matter in hand. "Raksha Aunty told me you were engaged --"
"Oh, isn't it wonderful?" gushed Mira. "His name's Ajay, and he's a paediatrician, and he works in that hospital, you know, the one over by --"
Padma stanched the flow before it became unstoppable. "How come I only hear of this now? I didn't know you were going out with anyone --"
"I wasn't."
Padma's eyes narrowed. "Arranged?" she asked suspiciously.
Mira nodded.
Padma exhaled. "Mira..."
"Don't you start."
"But all those times we said we would wait until we fell in love properly, until we felt it was the right guy..."
"That was fine then. But look at me. I'm not some film- star. I'm your average, slightly dumpy, slightly too dark Indian girl, who's getting older by the day. I can't wait around forever, just in case someone might turn up. Better I do this now, while I still have some things going for me, than when things start to sag."
"But you don't love him."
Mira sighed. "Love? I gave up a long time ago waiting for some knight on a white charger to come sweep me away."
"But you can't go ahead with a loveless marriage!"
"Padma, don't be so naive. How do you think our parents got together?" Padma opened her mouth and shut it again. "Exactly. It's even better for us now; I have a say in who I marry. I wouldn't be marrying Ajay if I didn't see a happy future for us both."
"But you don't love him!"
Mira sighed again. "There are lots of different types of love in this world. Okay, so I didn't find the passion, the great love of my life. But love, nonetheless happens. It will happen."
"It'll happen?!" echoed Padma incredulously.
"Look at our parents again. Do you think that they fell crazily in love with each other, and eloped? Can you see that happening?" Padma said nothing. "This is different love. This is the stronger bond, of comfort, of companionship. You can fall insanely in love with someone when you're young, but will you still love them the same way when he -- both of you are fifty? Better this, maybe a love that will grow and develop as time passes, and a love in which I can grow old easily, without delusions."
Padma, usually so eloquent, was completely and utterly floored by this sudden turn around in someone whom she'd always thought to be on her side, would wait until they met the right person. Only, Mira had found hers already. She needed to talk to someone, to argue this out with them, someone who wouldn't be as secure as Mira in her faith in arranged marriages, and someone, who, being defeated, would restore her own faith in love. She unexpectedly knew exactly who.
Later, Nick stepped away from the closet. All around him, on the floor, on the bed, lay strewn the contents thereof. There was s quiet tap at the door. "Yeah?" Howie came in, opening his mouth in order to say something, then closing it again when he noticed the disorder that surrounded him. "Hey How," Nick greeted him.
"Uh... hi." Howie paused, and then gathered his thoughts again, remembering why he had come. "Yeah, anyway, we're going out for food, and then maybe we'll go to that nightclub again later. So come."
Nick blushed a little and turned away so Howie wouldn't see. "Um, I, uh, can't."
Howie clearly wasn't expecting this. "What?"
"I mean, I have plans," said Nick quietly.
Nick's scattered clothes and coyness added up suddenly and realization dawned. "Oh..." Howie thought quickly. "Well, you can always come meet us at the club after you've finished your, ah, plans," he pointed out. Nick thought to argue, but decided it would be simpler just to agree. He wasn't even sure whether he'd be able to tell the others if he couldn't make it. Howie continued. "I'll leave you to get ready." He opened the door, and then stopped. "Nick?"
"Yeah?"
"You're okay, aren't you?"
Nick nodded.
"Okay." Howie smiled reassuringly, and left, leaving Nick a little bemused. Truth was, he wasn't okay. At all. He was becoming gradually aware of the ticking of the clock against the background, ticking that was becoming increasingly louder and more insistent. It would not be ignored, and would not go away. Although he would have to.
Alex threw the last t-shirt from the cupboard on to the floor and gazed around him in mild despair. He had nothing to wear. Dan eyed him sardonically from the comfort of his chair. "Problems?" he asked.
"I have nothing to wear."
"Queen."
Alex shot him a look, and then continued to contemplate the clothes around him. He settled on something innocuous – not too clubby, but not too slobby. Dan absent-mindedly flicked the television on and off as Alex went into the bathroom with his choices. He had quietly gotten over his crush on Nick on his own, seeing as Padma seemed to be busy, and Alex was the person with whom it transpired that Nick had chosen to be. He had wallowed for a bit, but now he just felt a little empty; he didn't mind. This was his usual state and he felt safe in it. Probably more reassured rather than safe, like the settling back into a routine. Alex opened the door of the bathroom fastening the final buttons on his shirt.
"Are you going now?"
"Mm, yeah." Alex leant over him to retrieve his jacket, and Dan caught cologne mixed with soap and another scent which he couldn't identify, but was making him think inappropriate thoughts about Alex. He watched Alex as he shrugged on the jacket, and caught the look of young anticipation mixed with a little nervousness on his face, and smiled to himself.
"How do I look?" asked Alex.
"Damn sexy," replied Dan honestly.
Alex blushed, but couldn't help but look pleased. He could read a look in Dan's eyes he didn't want to read. "Uh... thanks." Dan rose and they went out of the door together.
Nick bumped into Brian in the foyer, and looked guilty.
"Are you going out?" asked Brian.
Nick nodded.
"Howie said you wouldn't be able to come with us." It wasn't really a question or statement, somewhere in between. Nick nodded again. "Well," continued Brian. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Nick found his tongue. "I won't. You have fun now."
"Mm." Brian looked less than pleased, but departed without further comment. As he left from one direction, Alex entered by another. Nick's eyes glanced quickly and unconsciously over Alex's form, sticking on wherever there lay bare flesh. Alex felt the heat of his gaze and flushed slightly.
"So, uh, where are we going?" asked Nick.
"There's this really cool restaurant not far from here," began Alex. "It's quite small and private."
"Just the way I like it," said Nick.
Alex tried not to raise an eyebrow at this. "Are you not going to have to be disguised or anything?"
Nick shook his head. "Nah, no-one knows who I am out here. Makes a change."
It was only a short rickshaw ride to the restaurant, and Alex and Nick were deposited outside an unprepossessing frontage. Inside however, it was just as Alex had said: not too many tables, and each almost magically secluded from the next by clever arrangements of walls, plants and decorations. Alex murmured the name of their reservation to the head-waiter, and they were shown to their table. When they had glanced over the menus, ordered, and ordered their drinks, they sat in a little silence for a while, until Nick was sipping nervously at his Bailey's, and Alex at his Coke.
Alex looked at his companion's drink. "Are you supposed to be drinking?"
"Hey!" protested Nick. "You're not my dad. Or Kevin."
"True. Still doesn't like you drinking, huh?"
"Nope. If we're not back home, I figure whatever the local laws allow, you know? But Kev, he carries a little piece of the U.S. around with him. Really, I think he likes being able to stop me drinking. Killjoy." Nick smiled, taking the edge of his words. "I don't know... it's not like I'm always getting drunk, or even that I'm unmanageable when I am, I mean, I know when to stop and stuff."
"Unless other people are trying to get you drunk," pointed out Alex.
"True, but that's a determined effort on their part, and I cain't do nothing 'bout that."
"Fair enough."
"But you're not drinking..."
"I haven't eaten anything: it'll go straight to my head."
"Isn't that the point?"
"No, the point is that I should be witty and interesting for you, not having to be ushered out of the door for being drunk and disorderly."
Nick snorted. "I don't think you let your hair down enough."
Alex looked honestly confused. "What are you basing this on? You've only known me for a week. In any case, I don't have enough hair to let down."
"People talk," said Nick obscurely.
"Dan. Or Padma. Wait, did they say I was boring?" Alex sounded politely outraged.
Nick laughed. "No-oo..."
"Just a bit straight-laced, huh? Yeah, I know Padma's always on my case about that. Although look where her happy-go- lucky-ness landed her." He wished he hadn't said that last.
"Why, what's happened?"
Alex sighed. Him and his big mouth. "I'm not sure I should say."
Nick nodded. "That's okay, I guess. I mean, I understand."
"I just hope she's okay. I think the whole thing with Kevin's making her re-assess her life by force, and I don't think she's liking it all that much."
"Are they all right now?"
"I think so. At the very least, Padma should have explained to him by now."
"Usually making mistakes is up to me, not Big Kev."
"Really?" Alex sounded interested. "Tell."
"No! You'll have to get me a lot drunker than I am now to get me to spill any embarassing stories."
"You're drunk now?!"
Nick looked around blankly, avoiding the question. "Go away," he said, with a good-humoured scowl.
"No can do. This is our date, remember." Alex looked as if he were about to continue on this point, but then paused, his face darkening. "And you're leaving soon, aren't you?"
Nick glanced at him, and reached out and took his hand, playing idly with the fingers. "Yeah." He looked at the emotions on Alex's face that he wasn't bothering to hide, and felt abruptly guilty. "We can work something out though, can't we?"
Alex smiled half-heartedly. He didn't believe it, and he knew Nick didn't believe it either, but he nodded.
"I mean," continued Nick, "we're both in the US most of the time, it's gotta be worth something."
"But you're not in the US a lot of the time. You have tours and schedules and recording studios and publicity."
Nick held up a hand. "Can we stop this before I start crying into my drink? Can we sort it out later? I just want to enjoy dinner. Please?" he added in a whisper.
Alex looked for a second as though he were about to argue, but clearly thought the better of it and didn't. The food came soon afterwards, and they ate, all the while maintaining a sort of polite conversation, but all the while too there was a distant look in both their eyes, and uppermost in their minds was the fact that the issue had only been postponed, not averted.
Nick insisted on paying the cheque, and then sat and observed Alex. "What do you wanna do now?" Alex asked. "We could go see where the guys are – I think they decided to go to some club or something..."
Nick had other plans. He didn't know what it was, whether it was the romance of the situation, or the wine, or the sheer desperation in reaction to the placing of a use-by date on their relationship, but he wanted Alex hopelessly. He watched Alex's face, watched as the other noticed his frank, despondent stare, watched the expression turn from puzzlement to empathy, watched the liquid brown eyes deepen and darken, and suddenly he needed Alex more than anything. He hated the situation for making him feel this way, but, god, he needed him. There was an aching starting in his heart, small, as though from far away, but becoming stronger and more insistent, pressing to be noticed. He wanted to touch Alex, hold him, kiss him, love him forever and for tonight, and his mood was seen by Alex who gave a silent assent in his standing up from the table, and they left in a hurry almost at a stumble through the door leaving the confused staff wondering what was happening.
They sat in silence in the rickshaw, and Nick, furtively reaching for Alex's hand, held it and squeezed it. Alex glanced at Nick, who smiled gloomily at him, and then turned once again to face ahead. The more Nick thought about it, the more impossible the circumstance seemed, and the more frenziedly he tried to ignore the rationality of the situation, that his life would be incompatible with Alex's, that while Alex split his time between two places, Nick split his between all places; no-one knew better than Nick the inconstancy of opportunities to stay at his home: the sudden calls from management cutting holidays and breaks short. Nothing was certain in the world of the Boys, no long-term timetables. All this Nick tried to drown out with the fierceness of the attraction to the boy, that the geometrically increasing attachment would be able to conquer the obstacles, but in his heart, he knew a week wasn't enough. Too many things supported Nick, and did he in turn support; to change his life would be to shatter all those, and for what? At best an uncertain chance, at worst, a holiday-romance. Neither life could risk changing just for a week's passion. They knew together the qismet that had been allotted them, and they know that they could do nothing to forestall it.
And so, with heavy hearts they descended from the rickshaw, paying the fare, and having entered the foyer of the hotel, they walked toward the lift. Alex let his forehead fall lightly onto Nick's shoulder, and tried not to think about anything at all. The lift dinged, and they stepped out into a deserted corridor. Nick leant against the wall, and the other looked at him in concern. "You okay?"
Nick shook his head. "Yes," he lied.
Stepping forward, Alex slipped his arms around Nick's waist, and they stayed in the embrace there. Nick thought the one thought in silence. It was so unfair. Desperately he tried to turn his mind to think about something else, but nothing would come, and 'it's so unfair' remained stubbornly stuck there, and for a while he could think of nothing else. When he did, it wasn't much better. The pressure-filled strain from recording, touring, promoting, the way these overshadowed any free time he might have, making it hollow and just as tense -- was it all worth it? He had been made to forfeit other things -- his mind turned suddenly to Jamie and the angry look in his eyes -- and he was now having to forfeit Alex as well. Everything was going wrong, and he felt so helpless to change things. He felt overcome suddenly, and his eyes filled, as he pushed Alex back slightly, trying not to meet his eyes. Alex gently pushed his chin with his finger, and their eyes came together and Nick saw there an almost indescribable look, of tender pity, of compassion, of condolence, so full of -- dammit -- so full of love; Nick touched his lips with his own, feeling the tears swimming behind his closed eyes and the soft giving wetness of Alex. And then something else, need, desire, want all pushing up against him. He gave in.
The temple was the same as it ever was: the monks in their saffron robes walking around before the statues, and fingering their prayer beads, harassed mothers with their children tugging at the corner of their saris, clamouring for attention, the old widow in white, gazing lovingly at her beloved god, who smiled back with dimpled cheeks. Padma finally found a spot on her own in front of her Lord, and looked up at him. She didn't know how to start, with this, so looking around, and feeling more than a little silly, she began relating the story to him in a whisper. Krishna looked beatifically down at her on his one-legged stance; pink-red lips soft against his blue skin pouted slightly before the mouthpiece of his flute. Padma didn't know what she had come here for. She certainly wasn't looking for absolution. . . maybe a solution.
But there, just for a moment, she was the little girl she so wanted to be again, believing undoubtingly in the stories that her mother would tell her, of the god and his laughing seductions of the cowgirls, and his favourite Radha, or how he came to a wife's aid when she was suddenly called upon to provide food for a hundred sages. Just for a moment, but it was enough. She remembered again how it used to be, how her mother used to give her lectures on duty and responsibility. Maybe now it was time to shoulder some of that responsibility.
Giving a shy smile, she pulled her scarf over her bowed head and, leaving the temple, stepped out into the rain. And suddenly, she had an answer. The more she thought it over, the more it made sense, and the more it made sense, the more she realized that it had always been there, just buried beneath newer, perhaps more fashionable ideas, but ideas that belonged to other people. In a a way, she felt like she were coming home, and with a renewed sense of purpose, she began her walk home.
Nick pushed Alex down onto the bed, responding to a hunger within himself that he'd never known existed, sending his tongue running over Alex's lips, so soft and moist and warm, and feeling Alex's arms grip him even more tightly. And even as they lay trapped in each other's embrace, the thought that this could be the last, nay, the only time that they would do this entered Nick's mind, and he brought his hands up to Alex's cheeks, cupping his face in his hands. Alex began to push his hips into Nick, and Nick could sense his urgency too, and with an awkward fumbling he began to unbutton Alex's shirt, while his tongue chased Alex's around the confines of their coupled mouths.
There was a soft gasp from Alex as Nick reached down through the open, unfastened shirt to run his cold finger as lightly as he could manage over Alex's hot chest, coming finally to rest on Alex's nipple, which became erect under his feather-light touch. Nick squeezed gently, eliciting another gasp muffled by his mouth. Alex began to rhythmically push his hips into Nick, who disconnected his mouth to place soft kisses on Alex's neck, his restraint in perfect counterpoint to Alex's need. Alex knew he was being teased, and began to unbutton Nick's shirt, and with Nick completing this for him, the shirt fell away to one side. Alex now quivered at the new sensation of their bare skin pressed against each other, while Nick took the opportunity to descend further, licking all around Alex's chest, which heaved slowly with Alex's breathing, taking Alex's nipple into his mouth, running his hot tongue over it, feeling the renewed push against his crotch, and Alex's slim frame arching off the bed in pleasure. Nick smiled to himself and continued on his journey downward, using his tongue mark his trail, and his hands to prepare the way.
Alex was quickly stripped of his trousers, leaving him naked but for his boxers on the bed, Nick drawing back for a moment, just a moment, to look on the sight, trying almost to capture it as though he would in a photograph, the sight of Alex, eyes closed in ecstasy, all smooth tanned skin and dark hard nipples, soft downy hair and gently curving muscles, and the outline of his hard cock through his virginally white boxers. And Nick carefully pulls down the boxers, and Alex is naked and perfect, and placing his hands on Alex's thighs, Nick licks experimentally at Alex's cock. His partner lets out a quiet moan at this treatment, and Nick goes down on him, licking around the head, one hand gently playing with Alex's balls, the other playing melody up Alex's thigh, Alex's body pushing his cock further into Nick's mouth, Nick willingly receiving it, and tightening the grip of his lips around it, working into a rhythm, Alex releasing another soft groan, and Nick quickening his movements, until Alex tenses, and Nick can feel what is about to come and runs his tongue ever more roughly over Alex's cock and wanting it more than anything at that moment feels the orgasm rip through Alex's body as his cock shudders, hot, sticky liquid fills his mouth, stream after stream, until Alex's body loosens, and relaxes, and sinks back onto the bed, released.
A moment passing.
Alex's eyes blinked open suddenly, and he twisted suddenly until he was straddling Nick, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Your turn," he said. And with that, he started to kiss Nick forcefully, more roughly than Nick had to him, and fuck, was Nick ever welcoming it. He pulled Alex's head down on his mouth, and his tongue shot inside, colliding with Alex's and struggling there for a while. Alex felt his cock stirring again, and, taking Nick's hands from the side of his head, he quickly unzipped Nick's jeans, and tossed them out of the way. Nick's hard-on was tenting his boxer-briefs something fierce, and there was a large damp spot, where Nick's pre-cum had leaked into the fabric.
Alex gazed at it with delight, placed his finger at the base of the packet, and ran it up the shaft to the head, all along the underside, all the while through the fabric, and Nick raised his hips off of the bed, trying to push into Alex's touch. Alex glanced up; there were other things to be attended to. He touched the tip of Nick's cock briefly before straddling him just out of the reach of his cock and returning his mouth to Nick's and kissing him deeply. One hand played up and down Nick's spine, half-tickling, half- arousing Nick to beyond all comprehension, the other ran through Nick's soft blond hair, then descended to his nipple, playing with it for a while till Nick let out a groan, then pulling down his boxers to join the ever-increasing pile of clothes on the floor. He looked down. There lay Nick's erection, swollen and dark, the head shiny with pre-come.
Alex felt himself more aroused than ever, and with one hand he began to stroke himself, while he went down on Nick, running his tongue hard around the head of Nick's cock, letting it linger in his slit, driving Nick wild, too wild, and Nick grabbed on to Alex's head and held him down, while he felt wave after wave of pleasure overcome him and come wash out into Alex's ready mouth.
---ooo000ooo--- blush Next (final) one should be out in a coupla days.