This story is purely fictional and it's not suggesting anything about the sexuality of either N'Sync or Backstreet Boys. I'm not trying to imply that either one of the band members is bisexual or homosexual. I also do not suggest this story to anyone who is offended by erotic homosexual stories or who is under the age of eighteen.
Wind was cold and sharp. It seemed to be cutting through everything in sight... through sweaters, jackets, even gloves. Spring seemed to be taking it's time on Cape Cod, and while even Rhode Island was covered with first spring flowers, Cape Cod was covered with melting snow.
People stayed in their warm homes and basically hid from the mad weather; it gave them a chance to actually talk about something useful.. weather seemed to be affecting everyone.
As it always is, people talk. One lady, Mrs. Saris... with her 50 years of raising children and grandchildren, is convinced that there is evil in the town and that is why spring is not coming. Mr. Paris, three years in Vietnam where he lost his left leg, is convinced that there is something weird happening in old Forest Hotel, now taken up by some rich kids. Maybe some sort of black magic...
People talk and guess... neither one of them knows the truth, but they'd be surprised how close they are...
Golden Pearl, one of the most expensive hotels on Cape, was full of rich people, celebrities, singers, and of course reporters. Those Brian avoided as much as he could... there was nothing to find out about him yet, but soon...
Soon they will be tracking him for a murder, and they'll catch him eventually... he'll spend years in prison, be tortured by a big guy named Spike, and raped by even bigger guy named Billy Bob. His future was shitty and he knew it... he had made peace with it years ago.
Taking his shirt off and staying only in sweat-pants, he stepped out into the practice garden for fencing. He had two hours before fencing team shows up and he was determined to use every second. Starting with Tai Chi, he went through all the forms, not stopping even when he couldn't feel his fingers any more. Soon sweat slicked his tanned body and glistened in the cold, pale sunlight. From form to form, he moved smoothly, his muscles flexing and glistening, his body dangerously swift, almost like a leopard that knows he has all the power in the world. Power is hard to gain, but even harder to get back once you lose it. His father had taught him that...
Finishing the last form, he stretched trying to figure out if he has the time for one more round. Stretching his leg muscles he spread his legs and bent over until his head touched the ground. Picking his head up, the first thing he saw was a pair of shoes in front of him. Not even bothering to look up and see who it is, he crouched with one leg extended, moving it swiftly over the dead grass and hitting the person in the back of their lover leg muscle. The person ended up on the ground in seconds. Pulling his hunting knife, he quickly landed on man's chest, locking his arms. His knife was touching man's throat before Brian even looked in his face. When he did, his eyes widened and grip on the knife loosened visibly. The man... the boy Brian attacked was beautiful... blonde short hair, randomly spiked up, beautiful smile uncovering amazingly white teeth...
But that's not what made Brian loosen his grip. His eyes... boy's eyes, like still green leaves frozen inside of a sharp chunk of ice, made his heart skip a beat. Brian got up hurriedly, and snapping his knife back into his boot, mumbled apologies: "I'm so sorry... I thought you were someone else... I'm really sorry, I guess the practice got me pumped up... I'm sorry." The boy smiled, and Brian lost his breath... He was so beautiful that Brian could not stop staring. The boy looked at him with fake anger and sniffed: "Now listen here boy, if you apologize one more time I'll give you a switching. My name is Lance." "I'm Brian. Well, switching from you is not such a bad thought... how come you sound like my mom.... oh...um, ..."
Lance stared at Brian with blank face. Brian quickly pulled his sweatshirt on, and smiled slightly at Lance: "Well, I have to go now... It was nice meeting you."
Before he could run into the hotel, Lance was next to him holding his sleeve. Lance was smiling slightly, obviously trying to be supportive. "Listen, was that really what I think it was? Are you...?"
Brian was frowning: "Even if I was... that's none of your business." Lance let go of his sleeve nodding slightly: "You're right, I had no right to ask that. Well, if you're gonna be here tomorrow, do you mind some company in practicing?"
Brian wanted to say yes... he needed to say yes. His mouth seemed to have a life of their own though, and the words that came out of his mouth were quiet: "Sure... why not?" Lance smiled slightly: "Then I will see you tomorrow."
Brian nodded and walked into the hotel. When he was sure that Lance can't see him any more, his steps quickened; by the time he was in hallway to his room, he was running as fast as he could.
Locking the door in his room, he sat leaning his back on them. He had no idea what just happened... but he knew one thing though; his life just got more complicated, and closing his eyes slowly he wondered if he can handle it.
Justin was crying... desperately trying not to, he pushed his face in the pillow and his words came out as muffled weeping. It hurt... watching him like that, and knowing exactly what he's going through. I couldn't find any tears though... I couldn't even remember how to cry. Looking at him while he finished his story in cut up, weeping sentences, I knew what he wanted from me. The same thing I tried finding in all of the people I loved; people who pushed me away and did their best to forget I existed. Understanding. Support. Something only a person who knows how you feel can offer. That person was supposed to be me. That thought cut deeper than any knife... deeper than any bullet can go. I watched him crying into the pillow, his shoulders shaking; support... I knew what to do, but it was harder than anything I've ever done.
Rising slowly from the chair, I hesitated for a minute. What if he pushed me away... if he took it the wrong way, if he found out... There was no choice though. Slowly crossing my legs in Indian style next to him on the bed, I rubbed his back slowly, still hesitating. He kept his head low, but seeing me next to him seemed to surprise him. After couple of seconds sitting in complete quiet, disrupted only by couple of escaped sobs from his throat, he turned towards me and curled up in my lap hiding his face in my shoulder. Slowly putting my hands around him, I tried not thinking about the warmth of his body, or smooth shapes of his skin under the thin shirt he was wearing. His weeping seemed to get harder, and rubbing his shoulder with one hand, I smoothed his golden curls with the other, and whispered softly in his hair that everything is going to be fine, and that the crying is going to help him. His warm breath caressed my neck, and his slim muscled body was pressed against me as if he meant to never let go. It was sweet torture... so sweet that I knew it would eventually turn to pain. His curls felt soft under my fingers and I could feel his cheek burning on my shoulder, while the whole shoulder part of my shirt was soaked in his tears. Rocking him slowly back and forth, I put my hands around his body and hugged him tight. Placing his hands around my waist, he snuggled even closer while his tears seemed to cease in seconds. My mind wasn't mine any more... there was nothing there besides an incredible need that I couldn't push away.
I wanted to get up... get away before I do something stupid, but I didn't move or take my hands from his body. He felt so good... his slim body was so warm that it made blood rush to my brain. His hands were shaking slightly against my back, while I used every ounce of self-control to keep my hands from shaking. His crying ceased completely, with uncontrollable sobs here and there. I expected him to move away when he stopped crying, but he still gave no sign of letting go. Feeling his body shake slightly against mine was all I could take. I pressed my lips against the blonde curls, and felt his head move so his lips ended up on my neck. They were hot and softer than velvet... it almost felt like petals of late summer roses... I didn't think I was strong enough for it. Pulling my hands from his waist with intention to gently push him away, made him grip my waist even harder, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
His lips moved, and a warm, soft kiss pressed against my neck brought a shiver that shook my whole body, even before I could think of a way to suppress it. I knew he felt it too because lips moved up towards that soft spot between my neck and ear, and then pressed another warm kiss against my skin. Sighing deeply, I was still aware that I need to push him away... that I need to leave before I lost those last pathetic pieces of control over myself. My body wouldn't listen... his lips moved towards my cheek, slowly dragging them against my face. It had to stop... It needed to stop right away. I knew it... I needed to push him away before it was too late. But I didn't move.
Suddenly, his lips were pressed against mine and his right hand tangled in my hair, holding me tight as if afraid that I will push him away. The last screaming part of my conscience disappeared, and pulling his body against mine, I slowly pushed my tongue in between his lips. Pushing his tongue in my mouth in the same time, he seemed to make sure that every part of his body is pressed against my skin. His mouth was burning hot, and he tasted like strawberries... softly biting his upper lip, I let my hands wander. His chest and stomach were hard and muscled... slowly pushing my hand under his shirt, I pulled my fingers across his six-pack and chest... his skin was softer than silk and so warm that its heat clouded my mind. He was shivering hard under my hands, but his lips never left mine.
The conscience returned in seconds, louder then ever, screaming in my mind and I pushed him away quickly. I regretted it right away... I still wanted to touch him, to feel him, kiss him... but it was so wrong. God, it was so terribly wrong.
He stared at me, his eyes still red and puffy but his lips were tight as on the point of weeping. My voice came out harsh and cracked; it felt like I had apple core stuck in my throat and there was no way of swallowing it: "This is wrong... I'm supposed to be your bodyguard, and if you want... maybe your friend. But not this. This... is not right, I can't... I'm sorry."
He stared at me for another minute, then nodded slightly. His voice was still interrupted by sobs, but he managed to answer: "I understand. I apologize... this never happened... I would like to be alone now if you don't mind. Your room is right down the hall, last door on right... it's a guest room. If you need anything, dial 00 on the phone... Steve will get you lunch..."
Standing up, I opened my mouth to say something... anything. But my mouth worked for couple of seconds making no sound, then snapped shut. There was really nothing to say. He returned to gripping his pillow and staring at the floor, so I left as quietly as possible.
The guest room was recently cleaned, and the windows seemed to have been washed maybe minutes before I came in. The walls were covered in book cases, and for a second I wondered if I ended up in library by an accident. There was bed under the window though, and a small writing table in the corner... walk-in closet was the largest one I have ever seen, and I chuckled to myself thinking about the fact that the clothes I brought with me wouldn't even fill the quarter of the closet. My bag was next to the bed, and I checked it quickly making sure that no one had opened it. Steve made me feel uncomfortable, and he always seemed to look at me as if he knows something no one else does. I wouldn't trust him with my bags, or anything else I posses either.
First thing I pulled out of the bag was the black box, which right away found its place tucked under my bed. Clothes I carelessly showed into the closet, while CD's ended up next to small CD player above my bed. Sketches I threw on the table hoping to work on them later, and after a minute of thinking, I pushed the letters under the mattress, hoping they'll end up untouched there.
Stretching on the bed, I did my best to keep my mind off Justin. God, he was beautiful... but it was so wrong. I felt like I used him, while he was in his most vulnerable stage... It happened so fast, and it ended so fast; like a part of some unfinished dream. But it's never going to happen again. I couldn't... it was wrong... It felt so right though...
Struggling to push his face out of my mind, I never even noticed the sleep creeping up on me. Couple of seconds later, I was sound asleep.
Walking into the store, Lance wrinkled his nose wishing he had a cold and was stuffed up to the point of not being able to breathe. He hated the sweet perfume&cologne stench that seemed to be pressing down on him and giving him a painfull migrane. Short, round man in his late forties, almost ran over couple of customers to reach Lance. His face was a pale color of pig's blood, and a wide oily smile made Lance more sick than all the stench enveloping the store. The man rubbed his hands nervously and spoke in high pitch... too high for a man of his size: "Mr. Johnson... it is so good to see you again. What may I do for you today? Couple of suits for special occasion? Maybe a gown for your pretty date?..."
Lance let him talk while frowning slightly. He hated that name; Mr. Johnson. Of course the little round man knew who Lance really was, but sometimes secrecy was necessary. Especially in the places like one of the most famous clothing stores on Cape.
Interrupting him, Lance strode by, walking towards the trench coats: "Thank you Simon, but I need something different this time. I need suits, possibly in gray or black, some turtle neck sweaters to go with them, and three trench coats... make one ankle length."
Simon frowned, but his sleazy smile was back in seconds: "Of course... of course... I will need the size, but I guarantee that everything will be ready in less than half an hour."
Lance fingered the sleeve on one of the coats, and seemed to talk absently: "Size is same as Mr. Davidson's. Make that 10 suits, 6 turtle neck sweaters, and of course, 10 white shirts... add 2 or 3 regular sweaters, nothing bright though. And maybe... hm... 6 pairs of jeans... pair or two of sneakers... shoes to match the suits, and one regular jacket. Hm... there better not be any bright, bright colors Simon, the last mistake I forgave but this time..."
Sweat glistened on Simon's round, pumpkin-shaped face, and his knuckles were completely white, but he kept the grin although it sounded forced: "It will all be ready in half an hour Mr. Johnson, have no worry. Everything will be exactly as you want it... no mistakes this time."
Lance just nodded and turned around so quickly that Simon jumped a step back, his face tight. Smiling, Lance strode towards the door: "Put it on my bill."
Simon seemed on the point of bowing: "Of course Mr. Johnson, on your bill... have no worry... everything will be..."
His voice cut off as Lance slammed the door of the store behind him. Shivering from cold, Lance pushed his hands in pockets and hunched his shoulders as if the cold couldn't touch him that way. He couldn't go home yet though... frowning at that thought, he turned towards the Main Street... next stop, weapons.
Weapons were not what he was thinking about though. Pair of black eyes kept hunting him, and every time he let his mind run free, he was kissing those eyes... shaking his head fiercely, he quickened his step. There was no time for falling for a pair of eyes darker than night... no time... but as he walked, the eyes hunted him with every step. Biting a curse, he stared at the icy pavement. It wasn't supposed to happen this way... it wasn't...
Nick's mother wasn't nearly as friendly as April had hoped. Her hair was white and seemed to be toilet paper soft, but it was picked up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and the egg shaped glasses just added to the look of a mean, old teacher. She sniffed when Nick told her that April will be staying with them, then stiffened up in front of April with her fists on her hips: "I don't mind you staying here girl, but this house needs extra pair of hands. You cannot live here for free; this is not a charity home. I expect dishes to be done, and breakfast made every morning, and if you are going to use the washing machine, I expect all the clothes to be washed, not just yours. Is that clear girl?"
April stiffened too, her mouth tight: "My name is April, not girl, and I understand you perfectly. I'll do all the work you need me to, but I have no intention of living like a slave."
Suddenly, Nicks mother smiled crossing her hands beneath her breasts. It was a warm smile, so open that April lost all of her irritation in matter of seconds. Nick's mother looked up at him still smiling: "I like her, she has spirit. This house could use some life. Show her to her room Nicky... I expect you back here right away though. Someone needs to take out the garbage, and I hope you don't think I'm gonna drag it across the yard. Good then, that's settled. Welcome April."
Without waiting for April's response, she strode in to the kitchen, her head high as if she was balancing a book on the top of it.
Nick smiled at April with a touch of pride, as if he himself had taught her how to deal with his mother. Touching her shoulder, he grabbed her backpack off the floor and turned towards the hallway: "C'mon, let me show you your room."
End Of Chapter 10