By Kimura
A/N: The title is from a Moxy Fruvous song called "BJ Don't Cry." And the quote at the end is from Hamlet. There. Now no one can sue me. Again, I do not know the BSB at all, in any way, shape, or form. This is a work of fiction and is an exploration of my sexuality, not theirs.
~~~
He’s at it again.
I can tell from the faces he’s making. He’s reading that shit again. I know it.
A few weeks ago, I caught our little Nicky reading an inappropriate magazine. He had it cleverly disguised between the pages of a different magazine. While everyone else thought he was reading about videogames, I happened to glance over his shoulder and see images of people being tied up, whipped, chained, tortured, and fucked.
Images that can taint an innocent young mind.
But he’s intrigued by them.
He doesn’t know that I know. I’m the only one that knows his secret. What do I care, anyway? I’m a married man.
~~~
Brian looks around anxiously. “Where on earth is Nick? He’s almost half an hour late!”
The rest of us were already eating our appetizers, without waiting for the blonde.
“He probably just lost track of time in shower or something,” Howie says, leaning across me to grab the basket of hot rolls.
I sigh, being the responsible one. “I’ll go get him.” I’m always looking out for my little brothers, so I’m often the one checking up on them -- when I’m not the one running late myself.
“Thanks, cus,” Brian tells me gratefully.
I nod in reply and excuse myself from the dinner table.
~~~
I knock impatiently on Nick’s door. “Nick! You’re late for dinner! Everyone’s wondering where the hell you are!”
There’s no response.
I press my ear to the door and listen for the sounds of a shower, snoring, sex, anything to tell me that someone is the room.
I knock again. “Nick? Are you there?”
“Yeah,” comes a slightly strangled-sounding reply.
“Are you coming?”
“Ummm . . . yeah . . .”
“What’s taking so long?”
There’s a long silence.
My big brother complex kicks in. “Is something wrong? Do you need some help?” I ask more gently.
“Uhh . . . m-maybe,” he answers.
“Nick, open the door.”
“Uh . . . I can’t.”
“Why not?” My impatience threatens to return.
“I-I-I think I’m stuck.”
“Stuck?” I ask confusedly. “Stuck how?”
“Uh, I’d rather not say.”
“Nick, this is ridiculous!” I pull out my keycard and open the door to my room. I walk over to the door connecting my room to Nick’s. Hopefully, his side is still unlocked. Last night, all of us had been hanging out in both rooms.
I unlock my side and sigh in relief as the door swings open.
The room appears to be empty.
“Nick?”
“Kevin, get outta here!” a voice from behind the bed shouts.
“Nick, this isn’t hide and seek!” I cry, walking up to the bed.
I stop dead in my tracks and try desperately not to start laughing. “You know, when you play with handcuffs, you’re supposed to keep the key within reach.”
“I know that!” Nick yells at me, his face brick red from embarrassment. “Please, Kev, don’t tell anyone . . .”
“I won’t,” I tell him seriously. “I already knew anyway.”
His beautiful blue eyes widen in shock. Think Bambi in the headlights. “How?”
“I saw you reading,” I explain. “Don’t worry, no one else knows. Now where’s the key?”
“I dropped it,” he answers, squirming against the metal cuffs holding his wrists to the leg of the bed. “I think it’s under the bed somewhere.”
I nod and get down on my stomach to search for it. “The things you get yourself into, Carter . . .”
“Shut up,” he snaps back at me.
I wiggle my torso under the bed and look around.
“Do you see it?” he asks anxiously.
“Nick, are you telling me you don’t have a spare if we can’t find it?” I question irritably.
“Uh . . . no . . .”
“Then you better hope I find it.” After a few more minutes of searching, I see the tiny key and grab it. “Got it.”
Nick breaths a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“You should really think about using cuffs with a safety catch instead of a key,” I tell him as I squirm back out from under the bed.
Nick gives me a strange look. “How do you know so much about this?”
“That’s for me to know and you to shut up about.” I hesitate before releasing him.
Nick looks nervous. “What?”
I smirk slightly. “You just look cute all trussed up, Nicky.”
If he could have blushed any more deeply than he already was, he would have. He turns his head away. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
He looks back up at me.
God, you’re beautiful Nick, don’t you know that? I think to myself. Where the hell did that thought come from? I’ve never felt like this before . . . I shut my brain down before I can come up with any more brilliant thoughts and lean over to unlock the handcuffs. My body brushes against his as I do so. Did he shiver or was that me?
He immediately gets to his feet, rubbing his wrists. “Thanks.” He pauses for a minute. “I’m glad it was you. Man, if it’d been AJ, I never would’ve heard the end of it.”
I smile slightly. “Very true. Just be more careful next time. Self bondage can be dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I have a choice,” he says, straightening his hair in the mirror.
Oh, the implications of that little sentence . . . He doesn’t have anyone to . . . “practice” with. I know what that’s like. All too well. I shake my head, trying to stop my racing thoughts.
“We should get going,” he says, dying to get out the room and put the incident behind him. “The others will be wondering where we are.”
He starts to head to the door when another thought suddenly occurs to me.
“Wait,” I command before I can stop myself.
He freezes. Does he know what I’m thinking? He could just keep walking . . .
“Turn around,” I tell him in a voice deeper than my own.
He hesitates, then turns around. Bambi and the headlights again. His frame is shaking very slightly. I think I am too.
“Come here.”
He walks timidly over to me until he’s right in front of me. Sometimes I forget he’s as tall as I am.
“K-Kev --” he starts.
“I did not give you permission to speak,” I chide him calmly.
He shuts his mouth abruptly. He’s scared, but I can tell in his eyes that he’s curious, too.
What the hell am I doing? Why does he have to be so damn obedient?
“Kneel.”
He drops down dutifully, keeping his eyes to the floor. I circle around him slowly, and savor the image: Nick Carter, completely at the control of my voice.
My voice alone.
I reach out and gently run my fingers through his blond hair. His eyes half-close with pleasure. I’m surprised the slight touch has such an effect. I let my fingertips drift from his hair to his neck. I trace patterns delicately on his gorgeous skin. He moans slightly, then cuts himself off to keep his vow of silence.
I pick up the forgotten handcuffs.
Nick opens his eyes nervously.
“Don’t resist me,” I tell him as I draw his arms behind his back and lock them together. As if I really needed to tell him that. Ha! He’s as submissive as hell!
Talk about intoxicating. I’m drunk as hell off of him.
The position of his arms heightens every curve of the muscles on his chest that show through his white tanktop. But not enough.
His eyes watch every move I make as I slowly remove my necktie. Having him watch me like that is . . . God, it’s too much.
I circle around behind him again and draw his elbows fairly close together. He grunts a little in pain as I tie them together.
“You can tell me if it’s too much,” I soothe. “I won’t do anything you can’t handle.”
He nods.
I stand in front of him to admire my work. His chest muscles are outlined even more now. That’s better.
I read his face carefully, to make sure it’s not too much for him. His eyes are a little glazed over and I can see he’s pretty hard already.
I grasp his arm lightly in my hand. “Stand up.”
He complies and I help him to balance.
“Sit on the bed.”
As he sits down and faces me once again, I can tell he’s bursting with a million questions. Frankly, so am I. But now is not the time for talk.
I cup his cheek softly in my hand and kiss him fully on the lips.
He responds enthusiastically, his tongue immediately exploring my mouth. I tease him gently with my own. God, he tastes good. Too damn good.
I pull away. He looks momentarily disappointed.
“You can talk,” I whisper hoarsely. I need to hear his gorgeous voice.
“Why?” is the first word out of his mouth.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, kissing his neck lightly. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Kev?” he asks me very softly.
“Yes?” I reply, stopping and meeting his eyes. He’s going to tell me to stop, I know it. We’ve gone too far already.
“Kiss me again.”
I blink, then answer his request. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Speaking of mouths, his is perfection. Everything about him is perfect. I just want to swallow him body and soul and leave nothing for anyone else. He's mine. I surprise the hell out of myself as tears began to race down my cheeks. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It's beyond pleasure, beyond ecstasy, beyond words. I just never want it to end.
As I stroke his cheek with my hand, I find it's wet, too. Are those my tears or his own? I let my lips drift down his neck once more. I can feel him struggling against his bonds to respond to me, but he’s helpless.
“Why are you crying?” he asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel, to be. “Why are you?” I counter.
“Because no one’s ever been like this with me . . . made me feel . . . special . . . like I mean something.”
I meet his eyes that are still leaking tears. “You mean everything, Nicky. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t mean anything.”
He starts to break down crying and I’m quick to hold him in my arms and try to quiet him. He’s been hurt, badly. How long have those wounds been there? I soothe him softly, stroking his hair. I consider untying him, but he doesn’t seem bothered. My own tears still flow a little, empathizing with his pain. “It’s okay, baby,” I murmur. “You’re not worthless. You’re not. You’re very special.”
His tears are stilled after a few minutes. “Thanks,” he whispers angelically. “Thanks for everything.”
He tilts his head up and kisses me fully.
Once again, I’m in paradise. I hold his defenseless body in my arms and drink him in. I don’t want this to end . . . I don’t want this to end . . .
“What the fuck is going on?!” a voice comes from the doorway.
Nick and I break off our kiss and stare at the shocked faces of our three bandmates. Damn me for leaving my door and the connecting door open.
That’s when I knew that Cupid was a villain. A “smiling, damnéd villain.”
Fuck that little winged bastard.
~~~
The End
Don't flame me for ending it there. That's where I wanted it to end. :-P