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  Diversion

 

for Stubbleglitter


He knew that back.

"Who've we got here," Justin said, strolling closer and laying his arm round Brian's shoulder, then blinked at the violence of Brian's flinch. It wasn't that unusual to see each other, surely? There was no way the Boys didn't know they were sharing a hotel. The noise of combined bodyguards' downtime was a match for all but the highest class of insulation.

"Didn't expect to see you down here," Brian said, after too long a pause.

"The great Kirkpatrick needs nail polish remover," Justin said, shrugging, then saw what Brian's hand had been reaching for before being snatched back to his side. Condoms. Heh. "Doing some... shopping?"

"Yeah." His voice carried that ineffable wanna-make-something-of-it quality that told Justin he was on the money.

"Fair enough," he said innocently, giving Brian a friendly once-over, then seeing three familiar white sachets in Brian's other hand and feeling his eyebrows skyrocket. Liquid Silk, huh? "Okay, but what's that about?" he said, voice incredulous despite himself, and Brian closed his fist quickly, hiding them, and Justin laughed loud enough to make the store clerk look over.

"Shut up," Brian said, and his voice was gritty, quiet with anger, and Justin smirked, raising his right hand, negligently patting the air.

"Touchy, man." He let his voice carry. "'S okay - no skin off my nose if you're down here buying --" Brian made a sharp cut-it gesture with his free hand. "--something to make your evening run smoother, is it?"

"Not my evening," Brian said immediately, and Justin laughed again.

"What; an errand-boy?" He looked closer, saw definite smudges of colour on Brian's throat. "I don't believe you," he declared.

Brian glared at him. "Like I care."

Justin smiled, curiosity flicking on like it'd been switched. "C'mon, man," he said, lowering his voice again. "I'm all interested now."

"I'm just fetching them," Brian said.

"What, the others are naked, too busy to get dressed," Justin joked, and Brian said,

"No," very quickly, and glanced nervously away.

Ohhh. "Who's waiting for you to get back?" Justin said, trying to make it sound interested rather than shrewd. God, please, let it be Nick. Let Nick be on the prowl again. He'd do anything to have that man back at his feet.

Pause.

"C'mon, man," Justin said again, coaxing the reluctance into grudging acquiescence, making a lazy circling gesture with one hand. "You got some groupies up there who don't mind it rough?" Brian looked momentarily horrified, and Justin grinned. "Who, then?"

"Nick and D," Brian said, and pictures blossomed in Justin's mind; oh, yeah. They were waiting for Brian to get back, right? So they were itching to fuck, and Nick's tongue was probably lapping its way down to Howie's ass, was probably flicking against Nick's teeth in low "that's right"s and "move, yesss"s before licking lewdly back up Howie's thigh.

"I didn't know they swung that way," Justin said, wanting to keep Brian as long as possible. Let them go out of their minds in impatience. Let them stew until Nick was pushing his thumb in and nudging it frustratedly, Howie squirming furiously with waiting for Brian to bring back the goods.

"Yes you did," Brian said, with a tiny frown. "Did Nick, anyway."

Justin smirked. "You Backstreet Boys talk, don'tcha."

"What else is there to do on the long journeys?"

Justin flashed his teeth. "Well..."

"Even threesomes get boring after a while," Brian grinned, and Justin thought, no they don't, and then, aha.

"Thought you said you weren't into threesomes," he murmured, and saw the wryness flash through Brian's eyes.

"Ah."

Justin reached over and tapped his finger against one of the marks on Brian's neck. "Hungry boys, are they?" Nick had been. Nick'd been Justin's idea of a good rebound after Chris, and the night'd proved him absolutely right. Nick's mouth could power a city, given enough cock to suck. Diligent boy.

"Fuck off," Brian said curtly, knocking his hand away, and Justin narrowed his eyes. Something jerky in Brian's manner, more weird than merely being caught buying lube in a hotel cornerstore. He had this uneasy air to him, kept shooting the door and the clerk and the cctv unit little covert glances, shifting on his feet.

"What's up?"

"Whaddya mean, what's up?" Brian said irritably, and glanced at his watch. "I just need to get back there, they'll be waiting."

"No they won't," Justin said, pretty sure he was right. "If I know Nick--"

"You don't know Nick," Brian interrupted, and Justin thought, ooh, defensive, and then thought, oh, because maybe that was it. Brian didn't want anyone else knowing Nick?

Pretty extreme, Justin conceded, but he liked the idea. "Probably not as well as you do," he said, "or, apparently, Howie does," and yeah, there was a flash in Brian's eyes, enough to make Justin warm to his topic, "God, I'm keeping you, aren't I? Him and Howie'll be getting down without you, by now."

Yeah, there was a definite spark of something in Brian's expression, hearing that. Responsive boy; just like Nick, just had to know which button to push.

Justin wondered how else Brian was like Nick, then laughed at himself. No chance.

"That's right," Brian was saying, with that gruff edge to his voice again, "that's why I've gotta get going," and Justin thought that yeah, Chris was probably wondering about his nails by now, if not hopping round the wardrobe trying to decide which of Justin's Dolce & Gabanna socklets he should use to scrub at the offending Azure Blue. He felt a flash of anger. If Chris so much as unfolded his laundry, Justin wasn't gonna stand for it--

"Hurrying back to the den of inequity," he remarked, trying to cut off his thoughts. There was a pause, then they spiralled merrily on: ...expensive, for chrissakes, and he was doing Chris a favour here, okay, and if Chris wasn't patient enough to wait while Justin had a little chat with his buddy here, Chris could go to hell.

"Inequity," Brian said, smirking, and Justin was reminded that they really weren't buddies. "Didn't know you knew such long words."

"Fuck off," Justin said, but he wanted to prove a point, now, wanted to make Chris wait for his bloody polish remover - wanted to make Nick wait too, hell, maybe make him come look for them, maybe distract him from his party of three for a little Timberlake festivity instead. He hadn't seen Nick since that night. It was maybe time to admit he sometimes wished he could do. "So. How'd your concert go yesterday?"

Brian frowned. "Uh, great," he said, then shook his head. "Look, you trying to delay me or something?"

"Why, you want me to?" Justin suggested wickedly, then blinked because oh, he hadn't really considered that before. Wasn't the first thing that sprung to mind when looking at the guy, after all. Brian blinked back, like he'd been thrown a particularly dazzling curveball. Justin thought that sounded about right.

"You... what crack are you on?"

But actually look at him, Justin thought, abruptly. Look at this guy, sent by the other two to fetch the tools of the trade, while they continued their party without him. Certainly wasn't the sort of treatment Justin'd put up with. "Innocent question," Justin said, shrugging delicately. "You wouldn't be the first."

"Too right I wouldn't," Brian retorted, but there was interest in the set of his body, and Justin finally placed that uneasiness. He imagined that if he'd been sent off while Nick was sprawled out waiting to fuck then he'd be pretty flustered, too.

Seemed this proposition wasn't helping to calm him down, either. And somehow, somehow, Justin found there was satisfaction to be got from that. Give Nick a little competition. "You know what'd make them jealous," he said evenly, wondering if his shirt was tight enough to be hot. Yes, he was gonna do it. No judgement, okay? Brian wasn't that bad. Just temporary, but yeah, Justin could get his head round a bit of temporary Littrell company. Means to an end, after all.

"I don't wanna make them jealous," Brian said, like he actually believed it, and Justin almost rolled his eyes.

I do. "O-kay," he said, rallying, "so, ya know what'd make." He broke off, artful hesitation. Full steam ahead, boys. "Make my night, actually," he said quickly, after the pause, like he didn't want to be admitting this.

"What's that."

"I'd have to..." Justin said, and this was outrageous, was blatant as hell, but fuck him, okay, he was actually beginning to want this, want to show Nick, show him good, "show you."

Brian raised one eyebrow. "Talk, Timberlake--"

"I just," Justin said, and this time the hesitation was partially genuine. Not sure how to phrase this without scaring the guy away. "I want--"

"You want?"

"Your cock in my mouth, okay?" Justin blurted, hushed, catching his voice at the last moment, surprised because fuck, fuck, it was almost true. He was up for blowing Brian Littrell. Someone should shoot him immediately with a blunt bullet. Fuck, and now he was mixing metaphors. That flustered thing was catching.

Brian had had a flash of heat through his eyes, though, Justin was pretty sure, but now they were frowning again. "Why."

"Well," Justin said, and broke off helplessly. All the lines he'd normally use were pretty much out. "I just," he said, letting sex into his body, letting it enter his eyes, "I do."

"As if," Brian said, and it wasn't self-pitying, was just kinda scornful.

"I do," Justin insisted, "and I dunno why, but I do, 'cause just seeing you in this... context, I just. I want to take you to bed, okay?"

Brian actually checked his watch, and Justin wondered if this'd gotten out of hand. "I haven't got time to sleep," Brian said, and Justin drawled quietly,

"I don't wanna sleep," and Brian looked at him for a few soft seconds.

"Wow," he said, eventually, and it didn't sound like wonder - maybe acidic wonder, he didn't know. "You're really easy."

Oh, fuck off, Justin thought, angrily. "Forget it then," he snapped, and stalked to the counter, paying irritably. It wasn't like he needed this, wasn't like he couldn't go back up to Chris and mess around for the rest of the night totally platonically, wasn't like he actually wanted to get naked with the least charismatic Backstreet Boy. He'd had a vested interest, that was all.

"Two-eighty," the clerk said neutrally, and he turned on his smile, feeling it slightly wild on his face. He could feel his cock against his thigh, heavier than a few minutes ago - but nothing extreme, okay? Nothing he couldn't get rid of pretty quickly, once he was out of this cracked-out situation.

"Thanks," he said, and his voice was perfectly even, despite the fact that his mind was suddenly buzzing, 'cause Jesus, he'd just propositioned Brian - Brian, of all guys. God. Talk about lapse in taste.

"I changed my mind," Brian said, as he turned to leave. The lube slipped under the barcode reader, bleeped its existence. "Wait over there."

As if, Justin thought, but then he was waiting, taste be damned, and refusing to think about it, concentrating on the nail polish remover tucked neatly in his inside jacket pocket instead, and then Brian was wandering over, all that flustered stuff bled away. He looked like he was holding all the aces, but didn't particularly care.

"Yeah?" Justin said, painting on insolence. He had a few high cards himself, and Brian'd do well to remember it. "Maybe I changed my mind too."

"Did you?" Brian said, easily.

Justin stared at him, felt a rush of foolish heat. "No."

So much for high cards. "Good," Brian said, and walked past him, then glanced back, like Justin was eccentric for not following blindly. "I wanna find out about this mouth Nick talks about so much," he murmured.

Nick talks? "I'm sure they won't even notice you're gone," Justin said sweetly, trying to reassert himself, then felt ridiculously annoyed that Brian didn't look cowed.

"They'll probably notice," Brian said, and shot him a sideways glance. "I can't imagine you could get me off that fast."

"You think," Justin said, and this was sublimely bizarre, because they were talking like it was gonna happen and actually, yeah, it was. Justin had gone past the point of convincing himself he could walk away and not jerk off the moment he got back to his room. Bizarre didn't even cover it.

On some level, he was expecting Brian to say, "we'll see" or "yeah - wanna prove me wrong?" or something, something to keep the banter going, but Brian just nodded to himself and walked on, hands in his pockets. Justin followed, kinda disturbed. This felt wrong as hell - thrilling, but only just. It was like some comedy show. They weren't even rivals, didn't have any relationship to fall back on save a few beers last summer when JC was all about barbecues.

"Okay," was the next thing Brian said, and they were on a corridor Justin didn't know, and Brian was opening a door and dropping his voice. "You gotta be quiet."

"Don't want them to know I'm here," Justin teased, but he was surprised, too, as Brian ducked inside.

"I'm busy," Brian said, and Justin was about to say, "what the fuck?" when AJ walked out with his hands up in surrender, then froze when he saw Justin and laughed out loud.

"Oh, classic, man," he said, slapping Brian on the shoulder, then wandering off down the corridor, shaking his head to himself.

"Fuck off," Justin muttered, and then Brian was tugging him inside, and the room was pretty similar to his own but with different junk slung around it, and he couldn't get the bark of AJ's laughter out his head. Envy, or something, must be. Stupid fucker.

"Thought you were in a hurry," Brian said, and Justin looked up at him, startled. Brian's expression was definitely infused with heat, but he wasn't hot, wasn't making Justin's mouth go dry, wasn't making him ache. Brian was like... lukewarm oatmeal, or that robot from Red Dwarf. Didn't hold an appeals, not for Justin - hell, for anyone? - and maybe that was why he was stalling now, because it was pretty cheap to blow someone purely for revenge.

"Yeah," Justin said, and realised, unpleasantly, that his mouth was dry.

Nick, he told himself, aaall about Nick, all about knowing Brian was his errand boy, all about dearly loving the idea of sending him back with stars in his eyes.

Pity he couldn't have prettier eyes to begin with, though.

"If you're backing out, tell me, and I'll go back to D's room," Brian said, evenly, and he didn't look too phased, and Justin's stomach lurched clumsily. "They're waiting," Brian added, and Justin's stomach tightened again. They were.

They were waiting, and Chris was waiting, and Justin had a pocket full of acetone and dick full of blood, and this was fucked up, yeah, he was totally aware of the depth of it, but. "I gave my word, didn't I?" he said, and Brian tilted his head.

"Your word's worth something?"

"Oh fuck off," Justin growled, reaching for him, and he didn't wanna kiss him which was good because Brian didn't let him, just put his hands on his shoulders and pressed thoughtfully down.

"oh, apparently it is," he heard, as his knees hit the floor, and Brian's hands moved to his belt instead, opening his pants with an odd slow efficiency, giving Justin time to realise what he was staring at.

Brian had nice hands, he caught himself thinking, and then, oh, because Brian wasn't wearing underwear, and that probably explained the flustered thing once and for all.

Brian had a nice dick, too.

Nice, he scoffed, a moment later, scorn to save himself from reeling as one of those nice hands slid round the back of his head, the other guiding Justin's mouth round, offering that nice dick for Justin to suck. Justin took a deep breath, regretted it because it put him firmly in mind of what Nick might've done to Brian before the whole errand thing, and licked Brian's fingers in lieu of biting his own tongue.

"mm," Brian murmured, and slipped his thumb into Justin's mouth, then pulled down, persuasively, sliding in his cock the moment Justin's mouth was wide enough to take it.

Justin swallowed, immediately feeling like he needed more air. Healthy guy, Brian was, and the hand at the back of his head wasn't all that accommodating, and Justin hadn't sucked anyone since Nick, and before that Chris, and he could be kinda out of practise.

And damnit, he thought acidly, he was a pretty fine groupie, wasn't he? Three popstars in two months. Four, if he counted jerking off. What a collection.

"Note to self, Nick knows what he's talking about," he heard Brian mutter, and he grinned, getting back into the stride of it, hollowing his cheeks to take it deep and hard, remembering Nick's mouth and wondering if he could match its style.

Nick sure hadn't had any complaints.

"mm," Brian said, and that satisfaction from earlier was going strong through Justin's head, a pleasure to work his tongue and respond to the slide of Brian's hips, to swallow whenever he got the chance and feel that preliminary musk slick up the back of his throat.

Brian pushed too hard, and Justin's hands snapped up, catching his hips, feeling the arches of muscle beneath. Not a bad body going on here. Nice, even - nice cock, nice hands, nice stomach - only his head that's the problem, he thought nastily, sucking harder and ignoring the seep of water from the edges of his eyes. Lucky he wasn't fucking him, didn't have to look at his face.

Although.

He folded his fingers round the top of Brian's pants and pulled down, crushing them to his ankles and then smoothing his hands up the outsides of his legs. Suck him then fuck him - his head was reeling with the thought of it, especially when his hands found Brian's ass, found the complacent way it flexed against his palms, found that he could slip one hand down to pry his thighs apart.

Suck him and fuck him, and Nick, yeah, Justin wanted to see his face, wanted to be there when he realised why Brian had taken so long. Brian's hand was clutching at the back of his neck, and he'd started moaning, just soft.

Okay, Justin admitted, a fuzzy moment later: he had a good voice. Made shivers go down Justin's body, made him suck harder and longer and curve his hand hard on Brian's hips, trying to get them louder, more frequent, bizarrely irritated when the tempo didn't change.

Fine, though. Fine. More than one way to make a cat sing.

"Ah," Brian said, and it felt like a victory, and then he realised it was a little too easy to finger him, that his knuckles slipped inside smoothly, that it was wet, hot and wet - and oh, jesus, he'd already been fucked tonight.

Or maybe, Justin thought, trying to push his fingers deeper and feeling Brian's hands scrabble wordlessly at his shoulders, maybe it was just prep, maybe they weren't gonna fuck him until when he'd gotten back from the drugstore. Maybe Nick was waiting on his back, waiting for Brian to come and lower himself gingerly, waiting for Howie to--

Maybe they were both gonna fuck him at once - though that was a little kinky, probably a little out of Brian's oatmeal-vanilla league - and then his train of thought skipped across merrily, and he was thinking how sweet it'd be to steal him, to use this vessel Nick'd so thoroughly prepared, send him back all post-coital and overwhelmed.

Nick was welcome to Justin's sloppy seconds, of course he was. Any time.

Two fingers pushed in just as easy, except that one of Brian's hands clawed in his hair, nails scraping viciously, making Justin's eyes sting indignantly all over again. Those Christian manners, departed so soon?

Not really soon, though, he admitted. His mouth was starting to ache, not to mention his cock, which was being far friendlier with his boxers than he'd thought possible. Delicious cotton, it was crooning, shoving against the zipper of his jeans; denim, ah, that firm embrace. Before long, his entire personality was gonna cleave in two, leaving a cock full of eloquent platitudes and a vacant, blindly sucking mouth.

He drove his fingers up hard, annoyed that he couldn't deep throat at this angle, that every thrust of Brian's cock was tickling his gag reflex, and Brian whispered, "whoa," and went up a little on his toes, and Justin almost coughed, because that was the angle, and he'd almost managed to take it back, almost, not quite.

He crooked his fingers in Brian's ass and sort of craned down, tipping his head back and curving his spine so he was closer to the floor and his throat could take him, and it hurt but he was gonna prove a point here, just see if he didn't, and Brian gave a soft laugh. "Mh," Justin grunted, indignantly, and then Brian was pulling away, hauling Justin to his feet and onto the bed before he could catch his breath.

His mouth felt incomparably empty. "Try it like that," Brian murmured, guiding Justin onto his back so his head tipped down over the side, then, without exactly waiting for permission, thumbing Justin's mouth open again, pushing his cock back inside.

Wow, Justin thought, distantly, as his throat acquiesced and Brian groaned softly. They sure were on the same wavelength.

His head filled with soft stars, because at this angle he wasn't getting down with the oxygen too well, and he was squirming a little on the mattress, inappropriate thoughts about Gone slipping quicksilver through his head, and then Brian reached for his fingers, drew them back to his ass.

Oh, twist his arm.

"Ah, see that works," Brian muttered, starting to push in and out, and Justin closed his eyes tight to stop them dripping and worked his fingers as deep as he could, finding he couldn't suck like this and also that Brian didn't seem to care - and then Brian's cock jerked liquidly against his tongue, and Justin almost spluttered on the hot gush of it, and Brian pushed a couple more times before stilling, breathing hard.

Justin heard himself whimper when Brian pulled out, oxygen rushing back like a minor orgasm. He was shivering like crazy, wondering if Brian would just sit on him like this because another few minutes and he was gonna seriously explode, and his throat was burning, convulsively swallowing again and again.

"Totally worth it," Brian breathed, reaching down, pulling Justin's wrist away, and Justin protested,

"hey, hey," voice salt-throated, as his fingers slipped out the hot, wet clutch of his ass. "You--"

"I'm running so late," Brian confessed, touching his thumb to the wet on Justin's lip, then pushing it into Justin's mouth again. "But everything Nick said? definitely true."

Brian's thumb was slick-salty and needed sucking, and Justin lifted his head a little in protest when it slipped away, then admonished himself that that chapter of the evening was over and he should be the demanding one, now. He tried to get his breath back, failed. The post-coital Brian wasn't quite what he'd expected. "Excuse me?"

"You're worth every second of the boredom you've gotta go through to get you on your knees," Brian said, affectionately, and zipped up his pants, cocking his head at Justin. "I'd take you through the other room, finish up, but Nick wouldn't be too happy about that. You know the deal with the locks to these places, don't you - course you do. Okay, catch ya later."

"Whaddya mean, Nick wouldn't-- hey," Justin called, rolling off the bed and getting quickly to his pins-and-needled feet, and Brian glanced back, blew him a kiss.

"Good luck tomorrow," he said, and shut the door behind him on his way out, leaving Justin with his pocket of acetone, his dick full of blood, his throat slicked with acid, and a gently aching jaw.

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