Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
Welcome to season 5.
Jack
"We should have just eloped," I grumbled, sipping my coffee and moving a post it note labeled "Carl and Guest" from one table on my seating chart to another.
"Why are you working on that now?" Josh asked, grinning from the bathroom doorway as he leaned over to turn the shower on. He was wearing only a towel, his hair tousled above his sparkling blue eyes and white grin, a flash of tanned thigh peeking out where the edges of the towel didn't quite meet.
"Because we told the wedding woman that we would have it ready by this afternoon, remember?" I answered, moving Carl and his guest again.
Josh sauntered over, hips rolling as he crossed the floor. I tried to keep myself from looking at his tanned, muscled torso, tried to keep my eyes from following his rounded shoulders, or tracing the lines of his arms. I promised myself I wouldn't look at his brown nipples, and I especially wouldn't think about chewing on them, and listening to the noises he would make as I did. I really, really tried to force myself from noticing the way his towel stretched tightly as he walked, bumping up in the middle as his cock pushed against it, not hard, but still substantial. Nope, I was just going to stay here, looking at my wedding reception chart, which was taking on the Byzantine complexity of a war effort. Less paperwork went into the last fall of Poland, I'm certain, than was going into this.
"I thought we weren't going to call her the wedding woman anymore," Josh purred, coming up behind me. His firm hands dropped down, sliding under my robe, and began kneading at my shoulders and neck. "You're tense."
"At the price we're paying her, I should be allowed to call her whatever I want," I said, grinning. I let out a little sigh as his expert hands began to work at a knot in my neck, right at the part where it joined my shoulders. "Stop that. You're distracting me."
"I know I'm distracting you," Josh chuckled, his breath on my cheek. He bent down and started nuzzling the side of my neck as his hands slid down over my shoulders to knead my pecs. Now that I was starting to have pecs again, it was nice to have them kneaded every once in a while. "It's my goal. Now stop playing with this, and come take a shower with me, Jack."
"I'm not playing with this," I said, gesturing at the table. I had the map of the reception hall spread out, held at the corners with coffee mugs, and all of the tables were neatly marked and covered with post it notes. On the side, I had three or four notepads, and a pile of pens, and I was going to finish this by the afternoon, damn it. "I'm working really hard on this, Josh. This is our special day, and I just want it to be perfect. Besides, I'm almost done, and then I'll come hop in the shower with you, I swear."
Josh chuckled again, his hands back on my shoulders, and kissed me on the cheek.
"Jack, I hate to be the one who tells you this, but you're not almost done," Josh said, giggling.
"Yes I am!" I protested. "That was the last post it note! That's all the guests. What? Why are you laughing?"
Josh pointed at the note.
"Jack, which Carl is that?" he asked, laughing as he returned his hands to my shoulders. I had a sinking feeling.
"I don't know," I answered, reaching for the guest list pad. "I don't even know anyone named Carl. It's Carl who has a guest. He's your friend, or cousin, or whatever. Why are you asking me who he is?"
"Because I have three Carls on my guest list," Josh answered, laughing openly now. "And I see that you have them at tables sixteen, eighteen, and twenty-two."
I looked at table sixteen. "Carl and Guest." At table eighteen, I also saw, "Carl and Guest." And at table twenty-two, I saw the note that I had just stuck down, which read, of course, "Carl and Guest." I looked at my entire map, table after table, and saw that I hadn't put in a single last name, not on any of them. I'd just gone down the guest list, note by note. I dropped my head into my hands as Josh laughed again, still kneading my shoulders.
"Oh, fuck me," I sighed, ready to cry.
"That's what I've been trying to convince you to let me do for the past five minutes," Josh said, taking my hand. He pulled me up out of my chair, but I resisted, turning back to the hundreds of guests. "Come take a shower. We have breakfast with the guys."
"But Josh, I have to fix this," I said helplessly, gesturing at the table again.
"You do whatever you think is best, Jack," Josh said, grinning. He turned and began walking toward the bathroom, letting his towel drop to the floor. I watched his ass shake, and he looked back over his shoulder, winking one sapphire eye at me as he saw me watching. "I'll be in the shower."
I looked at the table, and then looked at my tanned, naked boyfriend climbing into the shower.
"Fuck the wedding woman," I said, grinning as well.
I followed Josh to the bathroom, untying my robe and throwing it off to the side somewhere. He was already in the shower when I walked in, so I carefully pulled back the curtain and stepped in next to him. He grinned at me and leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to mine. I reached up, my hands holding the side of his face, and felt his tongue brushing against mine. I also felt his cock, rising quickly, brushing against my throbbing erection, and glanced down at them as we both grinned.
"Good morning, to you, too," I said, laughing. "We don't have time for this, do we?"
"Not really," Josh sighed, kissing me again as he reached for the body wash. "Besides, didn't you get enough last night?"
"Silly Josh," I said, holding out the loofah as he squeezed body wash onto it. "When it's you, it's never enough."
"You say the sweetest things," Josh said, taking the loofah from me. "Turn around, and I'll do your back."
I turned, closing my eyes, and felt Josh's hands sliding over me. He was still slow and tentative when he touched me, but we were doing a lot better than my first shower. When Dr. Swan had finally allowed me to take a shower, after they removed the needle from my arm, Josh had insisted on accompanying me, but as we stood in the hospital bathroom, under the harsh lights, I heard him gasp when I slid out of my robe and pajamas. I looked up and saw him looking at me with his lip trembling, his eyes huge above the tracks of tears spilling down his cheeks.
"Josh?" I whispered, feeling myself tearing up, too. I couldn't read his face, but I was afraid suddenly. I knew that I didn't look especially attractive at the moment. What if Josh didn't want me anymore? What if he wasn't attracted to me anymore?
"Jack, you, you've just been, he hurt you so much, didn't he?" Josh asked, reaching out to hug me as he stood there in his boxer briefs, his tanned muscles a sharp contrast to my pale, wasted body. I'd lost so much weight that I seemed all angles and bones, ribs and hollows. "Jack, I should have been there."
"Josh, this isn't your fault," I repeated again, hugging him, feeling his arms slide around me. They were strong and warm, and I realized again how much I'd missed him, how I'd almost forgotten the smell of him, the feel of the soft hair on his forearms. "Josh, you're here now, and that's all that matters. Now come on. I've waited like two months for a shower. I know I'm not real pretty right now, but do you think you could handle it?"
Josh tucked his hand under my chin, tilting my head up so that I was staring into his eyes. I would never have forgotten these, not in a million years. I would always see them behind my eyes when I closed the lids, always see the blue on blue swirl of a dozen different shades, the flecks and dots the color of Josh's soul, soothing, calm, and strong.
"Not pretty?" he asked, staring down at me. He leaned forward, his soft lips fluttering over mine. "Jack, you're beautiful to me. You always will be, because I love you. Now come on. I've missed having you in the shower with me."
The shower had always been a fun place for Josh and I, a place where we had tender moments. It was also a place where we had some pretty hot sex, although I wasn't up for that yet on that first shower. I was up for it now, though, but we didn't have time for that, as Josh had pointed out. I sighed as I felt his hands kneading my back as he washed, massaging it. I was putting muscle back on, was getting back to my previous shape or maybe even a little better, and it was nice to have Josh appreciate it, like he had last night. Of course, I'd appreciated him, too, several times if I remembered correctly, but it was nice to feel sexy again.
"I didn't hear you get up this morning," Josh said, reaching around to scrub at my chest. "Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," I said, not wanting to talk about it. I needed to, though, and he knew it. Josh leaned into me, and rested his head on my shoulder, letting me feel his support as his arms circled me. "Just more of the usual."
"Bad dreams?" Josh asked, not scrubbing me anymore, just holding me. I felt his chest press against my back, rising and falling with his breathing, and I closed my eyes, leaning on him.
"Yeah," I answered, feeling very small and weak suddenly. Josh was here for me, but in my dreams I was alone.
"Do you need to talk about it?" Josh asked, stroking my shoulders soothingly with his fingers.
"Like I said, it was just more of the usual," I said. "I was there, again, there in the basement. I knew he was watching, and I could hear him, hear that voice through the speaker again. He kept saying things, things about you not loving me, things about you not coming. I didn't get out this time, Josh."
"But you got out for real, Jack," Josh whispered, holding me.
"I know," I said, feeling tears slide down my face. "But in my dream I never do."
I didn't have nightmares every night, but when I did they were always bad, always variations on the same themes. Sometimes I starved in the room, becoming more and more helpless. Sometimes I got out, but Basil overpowered me and forced me back in. Sometimes Basil crawled down the hallway after me while I was calling the police, and believed that I was safe. I talked to my doctors about all of this, and to the rather expensive shrink that Josh was paying for, and for the most part I talked to Josh about them, too, but there were some dreams I didn't share with Josh. Sometimes in my dreams I got out of the basement and found Josh and Justin together upstairs. Sometimes when I was in the living room it wasn't Basil who came down the stairs. Sometimes it was Justin, and sometimes, on the worst nights, it was Josh. When I woke up Josh usually woke up with me, holding me, kissing me, telling me it was ok, and that I was safe. If he didn't wake up, I still reached out for him, or pressed myself against him, comforted by knowing he was there.
The nightmares weren't my only problem, either. I also had little panic attacks, unpredictably and without warning. The doctor wanted to put me on anti-anxiety medicine, but I was reluctant to take any drugs that would play with my mind. Sometimes I couldn't take any drugs at all, couldn't bring a pill, or even a vitamin, near my mouth without breaking out in a sweat. If I heard a voice over an intercom, sometimes it made me jump, made my heart race as I had a flash of being in the basement again. Sometimes I couldn't eat, couldn't touch any food unless I made it myself, because my brain would insist that it could be drugged, even though I knew it wasn't. I didn't go anywhere alone anymore. If one of the guys, or Howie or Vlada, couldn't go with me, I had a bodyguard at all times. It cut in on my privacy a little, but if I didn't have someone nearby I became very nervous and panicky, jumping at every noise, sometimes feeling hands grab the back of my shirt again even if no one was there.
My last problem was one that Josh and I had only talked about a few times. I talked about it with my therapist a little, and had talked to Chris and Joey about it, too, but no one seemed to feel the same way I did. I had guilt over what I had done to Basil Morgan. It didn't matter how many times everyone told me it was life or death, or that I had no choice, or even that he deserved it. I had turned another human being into a vegetable. He would never stand trial for what he'd done, would never be able to explain to me exactly why he'd done it, although I thought I knew. I would never be able to ask him what he was thinking, what he felt, how he could hate me so much, because he was never going to be able to answer. He spent over a week in a coma, clinging to life. When he finally had awakened, he was in an almost complete catatonic state. He reacted to stimuli, and sometimes made noises, but he was completely unable to care for himself. I went to see him before we left Los Angeles, and the nurses told me he had the mind of an infant. There was nothing behind the dull shine of his eyes, no awareness, and his eyes themselves didn't even follow my hand when I waved it in front of his face.
For all intents and purposes, I had lobotomized another human being with a frying pan. He had taken away my freedom, and I had taken away everything from him in exchange. I was haunted by the idea that he was still aware, that maybe his mind was trapped, screaming, inside his body, but my visit had assured me it wasn't true. Whatever he had been, whoever, was gone. The body might still be there, but I had more or less murdered another human being. I hadn't told anyone but the shrink about standing over Basil with the frying pan and deciding whether or not I wanted to kill him. I hadn't told Josh how part of me thought it was the right thing to do, and how close I had come. I didn't even want to think about it, didn't ever want to go back to that place. I may have decided not to kill him, not to swing the pan one more time, but it really didn't matter. I had already snuffed out Basil Morgan, and that was something no one else could ever understand.
I had killed, and nothing could change it. Nothing could take it away from me, or make it better. Nothing could make me who I was before, and nothing could bring back the life I had removed. No matter how vile a person he was, how evil and misguided and genuinely cruel, his life shouldn't have been mine to take. I had to live the rest of my life knowing I had murdered another human being, and some days all I could do was run the entire thing through my mind, over and over, and try to think of what I could have done differently. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to kill, and I had. Even if the state, and the law, agreed that I hadn't acted in a criminal manner, I couldn't tell myself that. I would always know that there had been a few seconds there in that hot kitchen when I thought about raising the pan one more time. I could never tell Josh that, for those few seconds, I could see myself bringing it down again, and again, and smiling while I did it. I could never tell any of my friends.
"What are you thinking?" Josh asked quietly, still holding me and running his hands back and forth over my shoulders.
"How much I love you," I said, turning around to kiss him. "Now it's my turn with the sponge."
"Are you sure you're ok?" Josh asked, kissing me again. His little beard scraped over my chin, and his firm tongue pushed its way inside my mouth, sliding over mine.
"Getting more ok by the day," I answered, smiling, and it was true.
I had spent two weeks in the hospital. I wasn't sure if I really needed to be there, but Josh and the guys were in this full out protective mode, and Dr. Swan just kept going along with it. Mainly they all seemed interested in just feeding me, over and over, like something out of a gluttonous nightmare. Every time I turned around the nurse was bringing me a protein shake, or another tray of food, or something. A nutritionist made sure that I wasn't just loading up on garbage, although Joey tried several times to bring in fast food and pizza.
The guys were amazing the whole time I was there. After Josh and I officially got engaged again Chris, Lance, and Howie had returned from the stores with everything they thought I needed. They brought a couple board games, so that they'd have something to do with me when we sat around the room waiting for me to be released, and some random books and magazines for when I was there by myself, which actually never happened. If Josh left, Chris stayed, or Joey, or Lance and Howie. Vlada had to fly to Europe for some work, so I didn't get to see her again while I was in the hospital, but I made sure to send her some really nice, really expensive flowers to thank her for the makeover. I was going to send her some candy, but didn't know if models ate that.
Justin came at odd times, usually when no one else was there. I figured he must check them with Chris or something, since I was so rarely alone. He never stayed for very long, just stopped in to bring me a book, or a present. He looked tired a lot, and when he talked it was always in a low voice. Several times he kept his sunglasses on, claiming the lights in here were way too bright. I knew he was still having trouble with this, but I didn't want to push him, or make it worse. Still, he didn't look good, even if he was trying to project a front for everyone else. I didn't know if the guys were buying it, but I sure wasn't.
"Justin, did you shower today?' I asked one day when he came in at three in the afternoon, smelling of smoke and looking a little disheveled. I was sure he'd slept in his clothes.
"No," he answered, grinning at me beneath his cowboy hat. "I just got up."
"Late night?" I asked, knowing none of the others had been out last night. I'd already seen them all today.
"Yeah, another one," he answered, looking away. There was a flash of something on his face, but he pushed it away immediately, turning back to me with his old, charming, Justin grin. "You should have seen the girls I brought home, though."
"Girls?" I asked, giggling. "Are you following in Chris's footsteps?"
"I don't know," he answered, giggling along with me. "Has he ever been with three at once? And they were hot, too, Jack. Strippers."
"You brought home girls from a strip club?" I asked, imagining the bad press that could leak out on this one. I mentally smacked myself right after that for even thinking such a thing. I was getting more like our publicist every day, whether I wanted to or not.
"Hey, everybody wants a little piece of me, Jack," Justin said, leaning back cockily in his chair. "I'm happy to oblige."
I sighed, wondering if it was my place to say anything or not. I didn't want to see Justin sliding back to the way he had been, and it looked more and more like he was back on that path. If I said something, I might be able to pull him back, but I might also just push him further along, and I didn't want that, either. I really wanted Justin to be happy, to meet someone special, but it wasn't going to happen. Justin already had someone he cared about, and Josh was with me.
"Justin, are you ok?" I asked, figuring that was a safe opening. "I mean, you've been going out a lot lately, like every night. Is there anything wrong?"
Justin shrugged, his face carefully blank.
"Maybe I just feel like going out and having some fun," he answered finally, but neither one of us looked like we believed it. I stared, waiting, and Justin shrugged again. "I don't want to talk about it, ok, Jack? I know you're trying to help, but I'm fine."
"OK," I said quickly. "And I don't want to sound like a mom, but at least tell me you're being careful?"
Justin laughed.
"Don't you worry about that," he said. "There won't be any bastard Timberlakes running around."
"That's not what I mean, exactly, but thanks," I said, grinning back at him. "The one of you we have is handful enough, thanks again."
We both laughed, and some of the tension drained out of the room. I decided to bring up the other thing I'd been curious about, since I thought the two might be linked.
"So, Justin," I began carefully. "What exactly do you do with three girls? I mean, you only have one dick."
"Jack, I didn't think you were interested in straight stuff," Justin answered, smiling at me curiously.
"I'm not, trust me," I said, holding up my hands. "That just seems like a lot of willing vagina in one room with just you, all by yourself."
Justin was still smiling that quizzical half grin as he looked at me, his head cocked to the side. His eyes ticked around the room, taking in the stack of newspapers on my bed table, and I saw him put it together.
"Been reading the papers, Jack?" he asked, settling back in his chair. He didn't sound mad. "You could just ask, you know. You and I are close enough for that."
"I wasn't sure if there was anything to ask about, but apparently there is," I answered, crossing my arms. "Is there something you'd care to share with the rest of the class, Justin? I see that you're spending a lot of time hitting clubs with a Mr. Nick Carter."
Justin sighed, and then crossed the room, closing my door. He returned to the bedside, pulling his chair up closer.
"Jack, can I talk to you? As a friend?" he asked. I nodded. "Can you promise not to tell any of the guys, not even Josh?"
Oooh, that was a tough one.
"Justin, I don't mind not telling the guys, but you know how I feel about keeping things from Josh," I said. "Maybe you shouldn't tell me, if it's something you can't tell him."
Justin's lips pursed as he thought about this for a second, and I wondered how serious things with Nick actually were if he had to stop and think about it.
"Jack, it's not something I can't tell him," Justin began, folding his hands on his lap as I leaned forward a little. "I just don't want to, ok?"
"Justin, what's going on?" I asked. "Are you worried that Josh would be upset if, you know, you and Nick had something going on? Because we want you to be happy, Justin, even if it is with Nick."
I wished I hadn't said that, but the words were already out of my mouth. Justin smirked at me.
"I see you've been talking to Howie," he said. He wasn't mad, and I was glad again that Justin and I were comfortable enough with each other to talk honestly about things.
"Justin, I'm sorry," I said, shrugging. "I'll admit, I don't know Nick. I met him one time, and it was just long enough to shake his hand and say hi. Joey and Chris told me once that Nick's slept with everything, but, you know, it's not like Joey and Chris are spotless. They meant it as a joke, but Howie really, really doesn't like him, Justin."
"Maybe Howie's not the best judge of character," Justin said, shrugging. Justin might have a point, as I'd been told that Howie had also popped Justin in the face and kicked the shit out of him while I was gone. I looked at Justin, waiting. "OK, they have some history, but that's Howie and Nick's problem, not mine."
"What exactly is their problem?" I asked. "If, you know, it's ok to tell me."
"Well, Howie wanted to come out, you know, like Josh did," Justin said. "They talked about it, and the guys decided not to do it, and it was mostly Nick who argued against it, because of their image and stuff. So Howie keeps bringing it up, and Nick keeps shooting it down, and they bicker all the time."
"But why does Nick care?" I asked, confused. "I mean, you haven't said it, but you and Nick kind of have something going on, right?"
"We're good friends," Justin answered, grinning. "With benefits."
"Good for you," I said, slapping his arm.
"Yeah, it's pretty hot," Justin said, grinning still, and blushing a little.
"But if you and Nick have something going on, then what's his issue with Howie?" I asked. "I mean, he's obviously ok with, you know, man-lovin'."
Justin laughed at my weak joke.
"Nick's ok with anything, as long as it stays behind closed doors," Justin said, and I wondered what, exactly, "anything" consisted of. "Howie wants to be out in the open, and Nick doesn't, and that's why they bicker."
I thought about this, and it kind of made sense. Lance had told me once about the conversation he overheard Nick and Howie having the night Josh came out, and it kind of made sense when you thought about it this way. Nick didn't have a problem with what Howie was doing. He just didn't want him to do it in front of everyone, which, considering their line of work, wasn't a really unreasonable stance. Since Lance didn't want to be out right now, anyway, I didn't really see why Howie would keep fighting with Nick about it, unless Howie didn't care what Lance wanted, or Lance had changed his mind.
"Justin, if you can tell me all of this, why not Josh?" I asked. "He'll listen, Justin, I know he will. Like I said, we want you to be happy, and if you want to build something with Nick, Josh won't mind."
"Yeah, but see, that's why I don't want to talk to Josh about it," Justin said. "Jack, I'm not building something with Nick. We're not having this deep, meaningful relationship where we share quiet moments and romantic interludes. We don't look into each other's eyes and think about our souls. Instead we go out, and we pick up girls, and then we bring them back to the hotel and we fuck them. Sometimes we bring back guys. Sometimes we don't bring back anyone, and I just fuck Nick. That's my whole relationship, Jack. We drink, we party, and we fuck, and I don't want Josh to know about that, ok? When Josh looks at me, he thinks I'm special."
"Justin," I said, taking his hand. "You are special."
"Yeah, but I'm not the way that Josh thinks, and I don't want him to know about this," Justin said.
"Justin, if that's all this is, why are you even doing it?" I asked. "This can't be what you want to do with the rest of your life."
"It's not, Jack," Justin agreed, squeezing my hand. "But it's what I want right now, and I think you know why. Right now I feel bad, and when I think about Josh, it hurts me. When I'm with Nick, he distracts me. I don't think about what you have, and what I don't. I don't want to feel bad, Jack. I don't want to feel anything, and I don't want to explain that to Josh, because it'll just upset him."
"But you'll explain it to me?" I asked. He wasn't trying to hurt me, I knew that. Justin and I had been completely honest about Justin and Josh, and it gave us a kind of bond. It also made me really protective of him.
"Jack, I love Josh, and you, too, but you're not like him," Justin said. "You're harder inside than he is, and if I tell you this, you're not going to come down on me like he will. Josh'll give me a lot of speeches, and I know you won't. Right now, this is what I want to do, and I know it's not what you or Josh would want, but could you just accept it, because you're my friend?"
"Yeah, Justin, I can do that," I said, holding my arms out. He leaned in for a quick hug.
"I'm gonna go, ok?" Justin said, standing. "The guys'll be back from lunch soon, and Howie and I aren't on the best terms."
"OK," I said. "But Justin, Josh is worried about you. Even if you don't want to talk to him about this, could you please, you know, spend a little time with him? He's worried that you're pushing him away."
"I am," Justin said, shrugging. "I can't help it. It hurts me to be around him, Jack. I know it's not his fault, but right now I just can't. OK?"
"OK," I sighed, wondering how we could make this better.
"Jack?" Josh asked, startling me from my memories. "You've washed the same part of my back about ten times now."
"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head, blinking.
"What are you thinking about?" Josh asked, turning back to me as he reached for the shampoo.
"Nothing," I answered. "Nothing. Just, you know, us and the guys."
"Speaking of, we need to finish up and get dressed if we're going to make breakfast," Josh said.
"Then let's hurry," I said, grinning. I started lathering up his hair while he did mine at the same time, our arms sliding over each other. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Josh answered.
But what were we going to do about Justin?
To be continued.