August 25-26, 2002 (September 2002)

Disclaimer: I didn't see anything, I didn't hear anything, I didn't say anything. I'm three monkeys! With a typewriter! Thanks to Georgina, Shoshanna, and Merry. Do not archive this story without permission.


It started one time when they were drunk, all of them crowded into a hotel room together with rain beating against the windows. They were bored. They had tequila. MTV was on, some middle of the night from the vaults retrospective thing, with Madonna reclaiming her virginity. Joey drank straight from the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned appreciatively at the TV screen. "She's hot," he said.

"She was hot," Chris said. "That's like a hundred years old, dude."

JC, lying on the floor, made a high-pitched sound of amusement. "So if Madonna hit on you, you'd turn her down?"

"I didn't say that," Chris said, grinning widely.

"I would," Justin said.

"Right." Lance held out his hand for the bottle, expressing a world of disbelief in the quirk of his eyebrow. "But if you had to, what would you do?"

Justin looked confused. "Why would I have to?"

"Because Lance says so," JC said, poking a toe into Justin's side.

"The thing is, I'd say no, because—"

"No," Lance said, cutting him off. He made a sweeping gesture with the bottle, encompassing all of them. "If you had to. Madonna, right out of that video. What would you do."

Joey chuckled. "Lemme tell you," he said. "I'd slide my hand up under that wedding gown, right along the inside of her thigh, and I'd keep going higher till I found out just how much of a virgin she wasn't."

The next time, Chris brought up Gwyneth Paltrow, and the time after that, Joey suggested Marilyn Monroe and they argued about whether that was okay. "I'm not a freaking necrophiliac," Chris said. "But if she wasn't dead, I'd lick her all over."

"Skin like cream," JC said, stretching like a cat and then smiling. "She had such a sexy laugh, too. I'd kiss her tummy, make her giggle."

Chris snorted. "What, like the Pillsbury Dough Boy?"

JC ignored him. "And then I'd go down on her and see if she tasted like cream all over. See how many times I could make her come. Like if she got that, that flush, you know, all over her throat and chest, that's really hot."

The time Joey was wasted enough to mention Britney, Justin got really upset and tried to hit him, and didn't calm down until Chris socked them both with pillows and made Joey talk about what he'd do with Barbara Bush. Justin laughed until he cried, and the rules were changed, a bit, and they went through Martha Stewart and, because Chris was a freak, Miss Piggy.

"I'd totally take her out on a date," Chris said. "To one of those expensive places with, like, snotty waiters and no prices on the menu, and then I'd just wait till someone was rude to her and watch her take the place apart."

JC looked at Chris. "And that would get you hot?"

"Wouldn't it get you hot, watching a tiny little blonde kick the shit out of the staff of a restaurant like that?"

"Strangely enough, no." JC shook his head. "Would there be any actual sex in this fantasy?"

"Yeah, yeah. There'd be sex. I hear she's really into fisting."

JC laughed, falling forward over Lance's legs. Lance just shook his head. "Yeah, but do you really want a pig's foot up your ass?"

JC was the next one to change the rules. It was after he'd started growing his hair out, and they were sharing a few joints this time, beer, nachos. JC blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling and said, "So, if you had to. Like. Antonio Banderas."

Joey choked on his beer. "Shit. Warn a guy."

JC just blinked a little, mildly, as though the smoke got caught in his eyelashes. "Antonio Banderas," he repeated. "What would you do?"

"Fuck," Joey muttered, and then quickly, while Justin choked on his beer, "No, no, I mean—"

"I'd do that," Lance said, and talked about just how he'd do it until Joey put a pillow over his head.

Lara Croft was confusing, because half of them thought she looked like Angelina Jolie and half of them didn't and they'd already done Angelina Jolie. Lance suggested Ricky Martin and they all banded together and threw him in the shower with his clothes on.

"Greta Garbo," Chris said.

"I thought Garbo was a lesbian," Justin said.

"Yeah, and she's also, like, really dead." Chris reached for his bottled water. "And your point is?"

Joey leaned forward. "Garbo in black leather," he said. "Tight black leather. She had this vibe to her, like a dominatrix—"

"You're thinking about Marlene Dietrich," Chris said.

"No, I'm not. Garbo was the cool blonde one with the accent, from Finland or something, and she was a nightclub singer in that movie."

"That was Marlene Dietrich! And she was Swedish."

JC scratched his head. "Marlene Dietrich was Swedish? I thought Garbo was the one in the movie where she was Russian and didn't laugh, and then she did."

"Okay, time out," Lance said. "Stop. Start over. If you had to... Rita Hayworth."

"Was she the one in that movie with Fred Astaire?"

Chris freaked out a bit over Gwen Stefani. Lucy Liu was such a hit, they talked about her for two nights. Joey suggested Anna Nicole Smith and didn't let anyone else get a word in edgewise.

JC yawned a little. It was his turn. "Liam Neeson," he said.

"No, c'mon." Chris shook his head. "You gotta pick something cuter than that, C. And younger, for fuck's sake."

JC looked like he was going to argue, but then he nodded. "Okay. Ryan Phillippe, maybe."

"No way," Justin said. "That's. That's kinky, yo."

JC pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at the wall with a faraway look, ignoring Justin. "Ryan Phillippe. In a bedroom somewhere, not a whole lot of light. I'd walk up behind him and tug his shirt down a little, at the back of his neck, and lick all the way up to the hairline. Bite him there. Not hard or anything, just, you know. A bit. He'd be wearing a thin t-shirt, old and washed-out, and I'd put my hands under it, low on his waist, really low, so I could slip two fingers down under the waist of his jeans and touch his hipbones."

Justin, who was wearing jeans and a washed-out t-shirt, sat up and moved away, not at all subtly.

"Go on," Lance said.

"Mmmm." JC stretched a little. "I'd just stand like that for a while, really close, just pressed to his back and his sweet ass and pushing one leg forward so it'd be, so I'd nudge his legs apart a bit, his thighs. And I'd breathe on his throat just underneath his ear, and then I'd slide a hand up his chest to see if that made his nipples hard."

Chris nodded appreciatively. "And would it?"

"Of course it would." JC smiled. "So I'd keep touching them and get him to, you know, squirm a bit. Get him to move and rub his ass against me. Like maybe he doesn't really want to but he can't help himself? And right when he was doing that I'd stop and I'd spin him around to face me. I'd put a finger to his mouth and rub across his lips and pull his lower lip down, make his mouth open for me and I'd slide my finger in there, make him suck it."

"Oh, yeah," Joey said, raising his beer bottle in a salute.

"And then two fingers," JC went on. "I'd slide them in, and then out, fuck that pretty, pretty mouth with my fingers. Slowly. Every time he tried to catch my fingers with his tongue to suck at them I'd pinch one of his nipples, and he'd moan, this tiny soft sound I could barely hear."

Justin stood up abruptly. "I have to. Um. Go now," he said and bolted from the room.

JC watched him go, and started giggling the moment the door slammed shut. "Man, he's so easy," he gasped.

Joey snorted. "Is there an end to this? What else were you gonna do to this guy?"

JC tried to get his giggles under control. "Who, who would — hee — who the hell wants to do anything to Ryan Phillippe?"

Joey wanted Reese Witherspoon in a Playboy bunny outfit. Chris talked for two hours about Halle Berry in a tub of jello, but he was laughing towards the end of it. They talked about Chow Yun Fat and Alyson Hannigan and J-Lo, and Lance said he wanted Ewan MacGregor to get down on his hands and knees and crawl across the floor and suck his toes, and Joey developed a nervous twitch for two days.

"Janet," Chris said. He threw a bag of chips at Justin. "Cause I hear she's fine. So what would you do, J?"

"Dancing," Justin said. He sat leaning against the wall, legs spread wide. "On a crowded dance floor, dancing real close. Grinding. Close and sweaty and hot and wet and slick all over."

"That's not sex," Joey said. "That's work."

Justin smirked. "Maybe for you it's work."

"Ha ha. At least tell me she's wearing something good. Short skirt?"

Justin shook his head. "No, it's down past her knees. But." He licked his lips. "It's slit almost all the way up along one side, right up to her hip and it's all smooth skin, I keep seeing it and then I kinda put my hand there, I figure she's gotta be wearing a thong and I want to touch it."

"Yeah?" Chris grinned. "And does she let you touch it, fetishist boy?"

"She's not wearing one. Just. Hot and wet and slick all over. And she gives me this tiny, cool smile, like nothing's going on but I can feel how wet she is, so I give her a finger and she just kinda shudders and then she growls and rips my pants open, and I lift her up and she's got her legs around my waist and I just slide right in."

Lance tipped his head to one side. "Right there on the dance floor?"

Justin grinned like a shark. "Yeah."

JC had bought cinnamon schnapps and peppermint schnapps and raspberry schnapps. Joey opted for beer. Justin loved the candy taste. He was already so drunk he was slumped over on Chris's shoulder when Lance tapped a finger against his knee and said, "If you had to. Nick Carter. What would you do?"

"Dammit," Joey grumbled, and then he held up a hand. "Wait. Nick Carter. With the mouth. Blowjob."

"Love the descriptive imagery," Lance said, rolling his eyes. "Mouth. Blowjob. The Pulitzer is yours."

"Nobody gets a Pulitzer for porn," Joey said.

"And it's the wrong way around," JC said, licking his lips. "I've heard about Nick, that he's. Big."

"Fat," Justin muttered and licked raspberry from the bottom of his shot glass.

Chris smacked the back of Justin's head and grinned. "So you'd be the one on your knees, C?"

JC nodded. "He'd sprawl in a chair, with that look on his face. I'd just go right for the zipper. I'd want to feel him grow hard in my mouth, pushing deeper, and then I'd pull back and just lick all over. Suck at just the head, soft and careful. Try to deepthroat him and see how bad he'd make my jaw ache. Hold his hands down so he couldn't grab my head."

"I thought that was what you grew your hair for," Chris said.

JC stuck his tongue out. Then he curled it suggestively. "Not for Nick Carter, I didn't."

"He needs his hands held down," Lance said. "Tied down would be even better. Tied to the bed and blindfolded."

"Gagged?" Joey suggested, without twitching.

Lance shook his head. "Oh, no. I want to find out what it would take to make him scream."

Joey twitched.

"What about you, J?" Chris poked at Justin. "What would you do with Nick Carter, if you were awake to do it?"

"With Nick?" Justin stared into his empty glass. "Nick."

JC poured some more raspberry schnapps in Justin's glass. "Nick," he agreed. "Tall, blond, sings in this vocal harmony group?"

Justin downed half the glass. "In an alley," he said. "Dark and," he waved his hand and spilled some schnapps on Chris, "empty."

"Hey, watch the hands, there. What alley is that?"

"The alley." Justin straightened up a little. "Some alley. Doesn't matter. He's there and I'm, and I'm pushing at him and he shoves back and I stumble, and he pushes me right up against the wall. And I'm pushing back but he's, you know how he is, he's. Big, and." Justin blinked. "He's taller than me."

"Yeah?" Joey gave Justin an assessing look. "I guess, maybe he is."

"And he's got his hand at my throat. Fingers up over my jaw." Justin took a raspberry sip. "And he kisses me." Justin paused. "A lot. And he's pressed up against me and I know he can feel I'm hard, it makes me, when he does that, it makes me really hard."

JC refilled Justin's glass again. "Go on."

"Biting my throat," Justin mumbled, tipping his head back in illustration. "So I'm pushing at his shoulders, but maybe. Maybe not so hard. He's laughing a little against my neck and he's pushing his leg between mine and I can rock forward. Not far. Against him. He's got a hand under my shirt, in the small of my back."

Lance slipped down from the bed to sit on the floor with the rest of them. "This isn't exactly a sudden inspiration, is it."

JC shushed him. "Then what happens, Justin?"

"That hand." Justin shuddered a little. "Down under my jeans, and I'm. He's got his fingers down there and he's kind of touching, pressing, not really inside, just. Just one finger, and my knees are all... and I think he's leaving a mark on my throat, I can feel teeth. And he says, I know what you want."

JC reached out a hand behind his back, without looking away from Justin, and Lance handed him the second raspberry schnapps bottle.

Justin licked schnapps out of his glass, lapping like a cat. "He yanks his hand out, turns me around, face against the wall and it almost hurts, all pressed up there and I've got my hands flat against the bricks and he's. Button fly, he rips it open, pulls a bit and shoves at my jeans and his fingers come back all slick and, and just. Deep. Right, right in, deep, kinda rough." His voice trailed off.

"Go on," JC said.

"I really want it," Justin said. He dipped a finger into his glass, then sucked the schnapps off his fingertip. "I want it so bad, and he. You know. He knows how much I want it, and it feels like." Justin broke off and drained his glass. "I want more." He blinked at his glass and held it out to JC. "I want more," he said again, softly.

JC poured. "And do you get it?"

Justin drank. He nodded. "Yeah. I'm. I can't really move a lot, and he's got a hand clamped round the back of my neck, like." Justin put his own hand there, and his eyelids fluttered. "I'm trying to spread my legs wider. And he stops, and I can, I hear the zipper, and I know. And I want him to fuck me. I want him to fuck me so hard. Just hold me there and, inside me, hard." Justin slid his hand down over his chest and in under his shirt. "So hard."

He held his glass out, and JC lifted the bottle. Chris put a hand over Justin's glass. "No, C."

"I'm waiting," Justin said, and his voice was low and rough. "I'm waiting and I know he's. He's looking at me. And I try to move and he's right there and it's." Justin's hand moved lower. "Thick and hard and it's, it's so good, I want. Deeper. More." Justin shifted his leg. "Biting my shoulder, and. Mm." He gasped.

Chris put a hand over Justin's mouth instead. "I think it's time to put Justin to bed," he said.

JC pouted. "I want to hear the rest of that."

"Sure. So do I." Chris kept his hand over Justin's mouth. "I also don't want Justin to quit the band tomorrow and join a monastery in Tibet. You wanna be helpful, get his hand out of his pants."

Lance cleared his throat. "It's not as though he'll remember it tomorrow."

Chris glared. "So?"

JC tilted the bottle. "And we won't remember it tomorrow, either." He tried to pour schnapps into Justin's glass, and Chris moved his hand to cover it again, and JC poured into Justin's mouth instead. Justin moaned and licked the neck of the bottle. He arched up, leaning back against Chris, who scowled and pushed him over against JC. JC smiled. "Tell us about it, Justin," he said gently.

"So good," Justin whispered. He let go of the glass, and it rolled away across the hotel carpet while he ran his hand over his face, licking at his fingertips. His other hand was down the front of his jeans, and the top button had popped open. "Hard and fast and the wall, I can't. I can't move. Just," he tipped his head back against JC's shoulder and stroked down his throat, "take it. As deep and hard as he wants." Justin worked his hand, and another button popped open. "I want. Oh."

Justin dragged his fingers down over his chest and twisted his nipples through the shirt. He was panting, open-mouthed. JC braced himself against the bed, giving Justin something to push against. Justin pushed his shirt up and feathered his fingers down over chest and stomach, then yanked his jeans open, stroked himself with both hands.

"God," he said. His eyes were closed. "It's, I want. Nick. Oh. Oh." Justin shook, and his spine curved up and up, and he came with a thin, breathless cry.

Then he slumped down, eyes still closed, and burrowed into JC. He was limp, the overturned glass lying next to his leg.

"I think." JC cleared his throat. "I think he's asleep."

"Okay," Joey said, looking at the wall. "I'm really sure I won't remember this in the morning. I'm really sure I'm not remembering it now. Really."

Chris hit JC's leg, hard. "Fucker." He glared at Lance. "You, too."

JC looked down at Justin, who was sleeping with his mouth open, drooling on JC's t-shirt. "Maybe we should get him to bed." He tried to get upright, and tried to get Justin upright.

"Leave him," Joey suggested. "He might puke if you drag him around too much."

JC dropped Justin back down again. "Euw."

Lance chuckled. Chris rolled his eyes and said, "Is it my turn now? Cause then I pick that guy in the Monty Python movie who vomits all over the restaurant." He looked at JC. "I mean, if you had to."

Joey shifted and overturned his empty bottle. "Was that the movie with the hot girls in the castle?"

* * *

"This is boring," Nick said. "Bor. Ing. And if Kevin picks Lucy Lawless again, I'm gonna scream."

AJ snorted. "This from someone who thought it was funny to pick Carson Daly."

"Fuck you, man. It was funny." He elbowed AJ, and AJ elbowed him right back.

"Anyway," AJ said. "It's my turn."

"Yeah? Who're you going to pick?"

AJ grinned. "Maybe Justin Timberlake," he said. "What would you do, huh?"

Nick leaned back and half-closed his eyes. "Well," he said. "There's this alley."

* * *

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