Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2001 18:22:41 +0100 (BST)
From: writing@vacant.co.uk
Subject: Finding a Belief #7 {} { MM Celebrity Boy-Bands } [7!8]

WARNING: This story contains relationships between adults
of the same sex. If you are too young or if this isn't your thing, then
don't read.

DISCLAIMER: This story is FICTION. It doesn't imply anything
about the sexuality of Nick Carter, or any other Backstreet Boy,
nor does it imply their characters and/or behaviour are as portrayed.

Yep, it's been a while, but I figured I owed to continue with it.
If you like it (or not), please say why : )
e-mail: writing@vacant.co.uk
(new address, but the old one works fine too.)


Chapter VII:

	Grey light filtered in through the shuttered windows.
Outside, the ceaseless rain continued to pour on to the garden.
Inside, the dry morning smells of the kitchen swirled around the
house like phantom food. The clock ticked loudly as the minute
hand jerked a fraction closer to eight o'clock. Time was becoming
tenuous, insubstantial, present still, but faded and. . . stretched. No
more than a couple of days had passed since the beginning of the
rains, but yet it felt as though the world had always had continuous
rain, that there was simply no other state in which it could be.
Padma lay on her bed in her parents house, staring up at the cracks
in the eggshell-blue ceiling. She could hear the bustle of the
woman who came in to do the cleaning outside in the corridor, and
the shouts of the woman's child outside in the yard. She could
smell the heavenly scent of maternal cooking seeping through the
house like the dry rot, being absorbed by the walls and paint that
had long reached saturation point. The emptiness in the marble-
floored hallway flooded her senses and she felt restless, but energy
to complete an action evaded her. The dripping of the water
outside had long since grown old and jaded, a cynical reminder of
her life, now as poisonous as mercury.
	Then came the voice of her mother and the smell of a
burning incense. Her mother in her quavering voice was singing
her prayers in front of the small shrine outside. Padma was oddly
touched by this. Everything was the same here, as it had always
been. If only she could have stopped her life too, if... yet she was
oddly self-composed about the events. She'd done her crying when
she'd told Alex about Kevin at dinner, and then again when she
had tried to tell Alex, but since then there had been nothing. A
void of emotion that filled her.
	Rubbing her eyes, Padma swung her feet out of the bed.
They hit the cold stone floor with a shock, and her toes flexed
once convulsively. In the front of her head was a pounding
stronger than tides breaking on rocks, but she pushed past it to
pull herself conclusively out of her bed and stand, if a little
unsteadily.
	Still her mother continued her prayers, and it drew her
even further back into the past to when she was as small as she
could remember, when the kohl around her eyes had made her
wide-eyed and innocent, impervious to the admiring and
sometimes jealous looks of the adults that had surrounded her
from birth: aunts, uncles, second cousins, grandparents. But they
all loved her, and would always smile and look up when they heard
the jingling of her tiny black anklets. Her scarf would fly out
behind her as she ran  about the house, and her family nicknamed
her the angel. How she used to enjoy going to temple with them
and praying, and feeding the statues of the gods sweets.
	She smiled.
	She wanted it back. She wanted to be young again, and
maybe, just maybe, if she had her faith...

	The desire came to her, single, clear, and she wanted to
fulfil it. The rain fell in drips off the eaves of the roof, in trickles
down the gaps between the gutters and the drain, but everywhere
there was sound, like a million complaining voices mashed all
together, all assaulting her senses. Dammit, she hated this, she
thought violently. Her hand involuntarily curled around the door-
knob too hard, and she slowly pulled the door open. Her father sat
in the same position he had always sat in, reading the newspaper.
Her mother, entering, glanced worriedly at her and put down the
tray she held. There was a silence.
	". . . would you like some breakfast, dear?" asked her
mother. Padma smiled weakly, and her mother bustled off to the
kitchen. Her father lowered his newspaper and watched her as she
toyed idly with the the cord of the telephone, rearranged the papers
into neat piles on the table, watered the pot plant.
	"Is there something you want, Padmini?" he asked. She
looked up, a little startled at the use of his nickname for her.
	She shook her head once, quickly, and then sat down on
the bench, feeling very much as though she should be saying
something intelligent. Her father regarded her from above his
spectacles, but waited for her to say anything. The unhappy silence
was broken by her mother returning with the food. Padma had
forgotten how hungry she was, or, indeed when she had last eaten.
She happily tucked into the meal.
	"Padma," said her father. "Do you have any idea how long
you're going to be off work for? I mean, it's been lovely having you
back and everything, but your job won't wait for ever."
	Padma nodded. "I know. But I had some leave saved up
for ages anyway, so I might as well take it." There was a rustle and
a knock at the door.
	"Padma? I didn't realize you were staying here!"
	"Raksha! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?!" asked
Padma's mother.
	"Oh well, you know me sis, never organized! How've you
been?"
	"I'm fine! But how are you? Why have you come? Nothing
bad's happened, has it?"
	Raksha Aunty shook her head. "No, quite the opposite, in
fact." Her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mira's engaged to be
married." She paused before the best bit. "To a doctor!"
	"Oh Raksha!" Padma's mother stepped forward to give
her sister a hug.
	"Congratulations, Raksha," said Padma's father.
	"But it's all so exciting, no? Think, the dress our mother
gave us for our wedding days, we give to her!"
	"Oh yes, and the jewellery..."
	Padma tuned out, but her mind was awhirl. How was it at
all possible that her cousin could be getting married? They'd pretty
much grown up together, before Raksha Aunty had moved away.
It was all so sudden -- she was sure that Mira wasn't doing it for
the right reasons. "Aunty?" she spoke up suddenly. "May I go and
see her?"
	"Of course, Padmini! Why ever not?"
	Padma barely even waited for the answer before hurriedly
slipping her feet into her sandals and running out umbrella-less
into the rain. With each step she got wetter and wetter, her pretty
feet falling into the puddles on the uneven roads and coming out
stained with dirt, her dress clinging close to her body, hair trickling
and curling in thick strands on either side of her face. She didn't
understand at all: she hadn't even heard anything from Mira about
marriage, except when they were joking around. Padma leapt on
the sticky, crowded bus just as it was about to depart, but not
caring at all about the unpleasant atmosphere in the bus. The
engine roared and propelled the bus forward with a jerk. Water
dripped down the aisle and collected in little pools where the lino
was uneven.
	How... how was it at all possible? She and Mira had
grown up together, being sent to the schools and mixing with the
same people, and she was sure that she'd known her cousin better
than to be ignorant of such an important development. She
suddenly felt guilty for being so wrapped up in her stupid
problems to pay attention to one of her best friends. Not for the
first time, she berated herself for her preoccupation to the
exclusion of all else. She seemed to be drowning in the ocean of
self-pity and criticism into which she had readily jumped.
	The bus lurched a little, and with a start, Padma realized
that this was her stop. She pushed her way to the doors and
dropped down, water splashing and leaping up at her ankles like an
eager puppy. She walked quickly, head down, to the house that she
had known so well when she was younger, and not even bothering
to knock, walked straight in. Mira looked up from the desk in the
front hall.
	"Padma!" She got up and hugged her cousin, becoming a
little damp in the process. "How are you? I heard you're on
holiday."
	Padma almost smiled. Her mother had a way of
euphemistically twisting any bad situation. "Something like that,
yeah," was what she said out loud. She returned to the matter in
hand. "Raksha Aunty told me you were engaged --"
	"Oh, isn't it wonderful?" gushed Mira. "His name's Ajay,
and he's a paediatrician, and he works in that hospital, you know,
the one over by --"
	Padma stanched the flow before it became unstoppable.
"How come I only hear of this now? I didn't know you were going
out with anyone --"
	"I wasn't."
	Padma's eyes narrowed. "Arranged?" she asked
suspiciously.
	Mira nodded.
	Padma exhaled. "Mira..."
	"Don't you start."
	"But all those times we said we would wait until we fell in
love properly, until we felt it was the right guy..."
	"That was fine then. But look at me. I'm not some film-
star. I'm your average, slightly dumpy, slightly too dark Indian girl,
who's getting older by the day. I can't wait around forever, just in
case someone *might* turn up. Better I do this now, while I still
have some things going for me, than when things start to sag."
	"But you don't love him."
	Mira sighed. "Love? I gave up a long time ago waiting for
some knight on a white charger to come sweep me away."
	"But you can't go ahead with a loveless marriage!"
	"Padma, don't be so naive. How do you think our parents
got together?" Padma opened her mouth and shut it again.
"Exactly. It's even better for us now; I have a say in who I marry. I
wouldn't be marrying Ajay if I didn't see a happy future for us
both."
	"But you don't love him!"
	Mira sighed again. "There are lots of different types of
love in this world. Okay, so I didn't find the passion, the great love
of my life. But love, nonetheless happens. It will happen."
	"It'll happen?!" echoed Padma incredulously.
	"Look at our parents again. Do you think that they fell
crazily in love with each other, and eloped? Can you see that
happening?" Padma said nothing. "This is different love. This is
the stronger bond, of comfort, of companionship. You can fall
insanely in love with someone when you're young, but will you still
love them the same way when he -- both of you are fifty? Better
this, maybe a love that will grow and develop as time passes, and a
love in which I can grow old easily, without delusions."
	Padma, usually so eloquent, was completely and utterly
floored by this sudden turn around in someone whom she'd always
thought to be on her side, would wait until they met the right
person. Only, Mira had found hers already. She needed to talk to
someone, to argue this out with them, someone who wouldn't be
as secure as Mira in her faith in arranged marriages, and someone,
who, being defeated, would restore her own faith in love. She
unexpectedly knew exactly who.

	Later, Nick stepped away from the closet. All around him,
on the floor, on the bed, lay strewn the contents thereof. There was
s quiet tap at the door. "Yeah?" Howie came in, opening his mouth
in order to say something, then closing it again when he noticed
the disorder that surrounded him. "Hey How," Nick greeted him.
	"Uh... hi." Howie paused, and then gathered his thoughts
again, remembering why he had come. "Yeah, anyway, we're going
out for food, and then maybe we'll go to that nightclub again later.
So come."
	Nick blushed a little and turned away so Howie wouldn't
see. "Um, I, uh, can't."
	Howie clearly wasn't expecting this. "What?"
	"I mean, I have plans," said Nick quietly.
	Nick's scattered clothes and coyness added up suddenly
and realization dawned. "Oh..." Howie thought quickly. "Well,
you can always come meet us at the club after you've finished your,
ah, plans," he pointed out. Nick thought to argue, but decided it
would be simpler just to agree. He wasn't even sure whether he'd
be able to tell the others if he couldn't make it. Howie continued.
"I'll leave you to get ready." He opened the door, and then
stopped. "Nick?"
	"Yeah?"
	"You're okay, aren't you?"
	Nick nodded.
	"Okay." Howie smiled reassuringly, and left, leaving Nick
a little bemused. Truth was, he wasn't okay. At all. He was becoming
gradually aware of the ticking of the clock against the background,
ticking that was becoming increasingly louder and more insistent. It
would not be ignored, and would not go away. Although he would
have to.

	Alex threw the last t-shirt from the cupboard on to the
floor and gazed around him in mild despair. He had nothing to
wear. Dan eyed him sardonically from the comfort of his chair.
"Problems?" he asked.
	"I have nothing to wear."
	"Queen."
	Alex shot him a look, and then continued to contemplate
the clothes around him. He settled on something innocuous – not
too clubby, but not too slobby. Dan absent-mindedly flicked the
television on and off as Alex went into the bathroom with his
choices. He had quietly gotten over his crush on Nick on his own,
seeing as Padma seemed to be busy, and Alex was the person with
whom it transpired that Nick had chosen to be. He had wallowed
for a bit, but now he just felt a little empty; he didn't mind. This
was his usual state and he felt safe in it. Probably more reassured
rather than safe, like the settling back into a routine. Alex opened
the door of the bathroom fastening the final buttons on his shirt.
	"Are you going now?"
	"Mm, yeah." Alex leant over him to retrieve his jacket, and
Dan caught cologne mixed with soap and another scent which he
couldn't identify, but was making him think inappropriate thoughts
about Alex. He watched Alex as he shrugged on the jacket, and
caught the look of young anticipation mixed with a little
nervousness on his face, and smiled to himself.
	"How do I look?" asked Alex.
	"Damn sexy," replied Dan honestly.
	Alex blushed, but couldn't help but look pleased. He could
read a look in Dan's eyes he didn't want to read. "Uh... thanks."
Dan rose and they went out of the door together.

	Nick bumped into Brian in the foyer, and looked guilty.
	"Are you going out?" asked Brian.
	Nick nodded.
	"Howie said you wouldn't be able to come with us." It
wasn't really a question or statement, somewhere in between. Nick
nodded again. "Well," continued Brian. "Don't do anything I
wouldn't do."
	Nick found his tongue. "I won't. You have fun now."
	"Mm." Brian looked less than pleased, but departed
without further comment. As he left from one direction, Alex
entered by another. Nick's eyes glanced quickly and unconsciously
over Alex's form, sticking on wherever there lay bare flesh. Alex
felt the heat of his gaze and flushed slightly.
	"So, uh, where are we going?" asked Nick.
	"There's this really cool restaurant not far from here,"
began Alex. "It's quite small and private."
	"Just the way I like it," said Nick.
	Alex tried not to raise an eyebrow at this. "Are you not
going to have to be disguised or anything?"
	Nick shook his head. "Nah, no-one knows who I am out
here. Makes a change."
	It was only a short rickshaw ride to the restaurant, and
Alex and Nick were deposited outside an unprepossessing
frontage. Inside however, it was just as Alex had said: not too
many tables, and each almost magically secluded from the next by
clever arrangements of walls, plants and decorations. Alex
murmured the name of their reservation to the head-waiter, and
they were shown to their table. When they had glanced over the
menus, ordered, and ordered their drinks, they sat in a little silence
for a while, until Nick was sipping nervously at his Bailey's, and
Alex at his Coke.
	Alex looked at his companion's drink. "Are you supposed
to be drinking?"
	"Hey!" protested Nick. "You're not my dad. Or Kevin."
	"True. Still doesn't like you drinking, huh?"
	"Nope. If we're not back home, I figure whatever the local
laws allow, you know? But Kev, he carries a little piece of the U.S.
around with him. Really, I think he likes being able to stop me
drinking. Killjoy." Nick smiled, taking the edge of his words. "I
don't know... it's not like I'm *always* getting drunk, or even that
I'm unmanageable when I am, I mean, I know when to stop and
stuff."
	"Unless other people are trying to get you drunk," pointed
out Alex.
	"True, but that's a determined effort on their part, and I
cain't do nothing 'bout that."
	"Fair enough."
	"But you're not drinking..."
	"I haven't eaten anything: it'll go straight to my head."
	"Isn't that the point?"
	"No, the point is that I should be witty and interesting for
you, not having to be ushered out of the door for being drunk and
disorderly."
	Nick snorted. "I don't think you let your hair down
enough."
	Alex looked honestly confused. "What are you basing this
on? You've only known me for a week. In any case, I don't have
enough hair to let down."
	"People talk," said Nick obscurely.
	"Dan. Or Padma. Wait, did they say I was boring?" Alex
sounded politely outraged.
	Nick laughed. "No-oo..."
	"Just a bit straight-laced, huh? Yeah, I know Padma's
always on my case about that. Although look where her happy-go-
lucky-ness landed her." He wished he hadn't said that last.
	"Why, what's happened?"
	Alex sighed. Him and his big mouth. "I'm not sure I
should say."
	Nick nodded. "That's okay, I guess. I mean, I understand."
	"I just hope she's okay. I think the whole thing with
Kevin's making her re-assess her life by force, and I don't think
she's liking it all that much."
	"Are they all right now?"
	"I think so. At the very least, Padma should have
explained to him by now."
	"Usually making mistakes is up to me, not Big Kev."
	"Really?" Alex sounded interested. "Tell."
	"No! You'll have to get me a lot drunker than I am now to
get me to spill any embarassing stories."
	"You're drunk now?!"
	Nick looked around blankly, avoiding the question. "Go
away," he said, with a good-humoured scowl.
	"No can do. This is our date, remember." Alex looked as
if he were about to continue on this point, but then paused, his
face darkening. "And you're leaving soon, aren't you?"
	Nick glanced at him, and reached out and took his hand,
playing idly with the fingers. "Yeah." He looked at the emotions on
Alex's face that he wasn't bothering to hide, and felt abruptly
guilty. "We can work something out though, can't we?"
	Alex smiled half-heartedly. He didn't believe it, and he
knew Nick didn't believe it either, but he nodded.
	"I mean," continued Nick, "we're both in the US most of
the time, it's gotta be worth something."
	"But you're not in the US a *lot* of the time. You have
tours and schedules and recording studios and publicity."
	Nick held up a hand. "Can we stop this before I start
crying into my drink? Can we sort it out later? I just want to enjoy
dinner. Please?" he added in a whisper.
	Alex looked for a second as though he were about to
argue, but clearly thought the better of it and didn't. The food
came soon afterwards, and they ate, all the while maintaining a sort
of polite conversation, but all the while too there was a distant
look in both their eyes, and uppermost in their minds was the fact
that the issue had only been postponed, not averted.

	Nick insisted on paying the cheque, and then sat and
observed Alex. "What do you wanna do now?" Alex asked. "We
could go see where the guys are – I think they decided to go to
some club or something..."
	Nick had other plans. He didn't know what it was,
whether it was the romance of the situation, or the wine, or the
sheer desperation in reaction to the placing of a use-by date on
their relationship, but he wanted Alex hopelessly. He watched
Alex's face, watched as the other noticed his frank, despondent
stare, watched the expression turn from puzzlement to empathy,
watched the liquid brown eyes deepen and darken, and suddenly he
needed Alex more than anything. He hated the situation for
making him feel this way, but, god, he needed him. There was an
aching starting in his heart, small, as though from far away, but
becoming stronger and more insistent, pressing to be noticed. He
wanted to touch Alex, hold him, kiss him, love him forever and for
tonight, and his mood was seen by Alex who gave a silent assent in
his standing up from the table, and they left in a hurry almost at a
stumble through the door leaving the confused staff wondering
what was happening.
	They sat in silence in the rickshaw, and Nick, furtively
reaching for Alex's hand, held it and squeezed it. Alex glanced at
Nick, who smiled gloomily at him, and then turned once again to
face ahead. The more Nick thought about it, the more impossible
the circumstance seemed, and the more frenziedly he tried to
ignore the rationality of the situation, that his life would be
incompatible with Alex's, that while Alex split his time between
two places, Nick split his between all places; no-one knew better
than Nick the inconstancy of opportunities to stay at his home: the
sudden calls from management cutting holidays and breaks short.
Nothing was certain in the world of the Boys, no long-term
timetables. All this Nick tried to drown out with the fierceness of
the attraction to the boy, that the geometrically increasing
attachment would be able to conquer the obstacles, but in his
heart, he knew a week wasn't enough. Too many things supported
Nick, and did he in turn support; to change his life would be to
shatter all those, and for what? At best an uncertain chance, at
worst, a holiday-romance. Neither life could risk changing just for
a week's passion. They knew together the qismet that had been
allotted them, and they know that they could do nothing to
forestall it.

	And so, with heavy hearts they descended from the rickshaw,
paying the fare, and having entered the foyer of the hotel, they walked
toward the lift. Alex let his forehead fall lightly onto Nick's shoulder,
and tried not to think about anything at all. The lift dinged, and they
stepped out into a deserted corridor. Nick leant against the wall, and
the other looked at him in concern. "You okay?"
	Nick shook his head. "Yes," he lied.
	Stepping forward, Alex slipped his arms around Nick's waist,
and they stayed in the embrace there. Nick thought the one thought in
silence. It was so unfair. Desperately he tried to turn his mind to think
about something else, but nothing would come, and 'it's so unfair'
remained stubbornly stuck there, and for a while he could think of
nothing else. When he did, it wasn't much better. The pressure-filled
strain from recording, touring, promoting, the way these overshadowed
any free time he might have, making it hollow and just as tense -- was
it all worth it? He had been made to forfeit other things -- his mind
turned suddenly to Jamie and the angry look in his eyes -- and he was
now having to forfeit Alex as well. Everything was going wrong, and
he felt so helpless to change things. He felt overcome suddenly, and his
eyes filled, as he pushed Alex back slightly, trying not to meet his eyes.
Alex gently pushed his chin with his finger, and their eyes came
together and Nick saw there an almost indescribable look, of tender
pity, of compassion, of condolence, so full of -- dammit -- so full of
love; Nick touched his lips with his own, feeling the tears swimming
behind his closed eyes and the soft giving wetness of Alex. And then
something else, need, desire, want all pushing up against him. He gave
in.

	The temple was the same as it ever was: the monks in their
saffron robes walking around before the statues, and fingering
their prayer beads, harassed mothers with their children tugging at
the corner of their saris, clamouring for attention, the old widow in
white, gazing lovingly at her beloved god, who smiled back with
dimpled cheeks. Padma finally found a spot on her own in front of
her Lord, and looked up at him. She didn't know how to start, with
this, so looking around, and feeling more than a little silly, she
began relating the story to him in a whisper. Krishna looked
beatifically down at her on his one-legged stance; pink-red lips soft
against his blue skin pouted slightly before the mouthpiece of his
flute. Padma didn't know what she had come here for. She
certainly wasn't looking for absolution. . . maybe a solution.

	But there, just for a moment, she was the little girl she so
wanted to be again, believing undoubtingly in the stories that her
mother would tell her, of the god and his laughing seductions of
the cowgirls, and his favourite Radha, or how he came to a wife's
aid when she was suddenly called upon to provide food for a
hundred sages. Just for a moment, but it was enough. She
remembered again how it used to be, how her mother used to give
her lectures on duty and responsibility. Maybe now it was time to
shoulder some of that responsibility.

	Giving a shy smile, she pulled her scarf over her bowed
head and, leaving the temple, stepped out into the rain. And
suddenly, she had an answer. The more she thought it over, the
more it made sense, and the more it made sense, the more she
realized that it had always been there, just buried beneath newer,
perhaps more fashionable ideas, but ideas that belonged to other
people. In a a way, she felt like she were coming home, and with a
renewed sense of purpose, she began her walk home.

	Nick pushed Alex down onto the bed, responding to a
hunger within himself that he'd never known existed, sending his
tongue running over Alex's lips, so soft and moist and warm, and
feeling Alex's arms grip him even more tightly. And even as they
lay trapped in each other's embrace, the thought that this could be
the last, nay, the only time that they would do this entered Nick's
mind, and he brought his hands up to Alex's cheeks, cupping his
face in his hands. Alex began to push his hips into Nick, and Nick
could sense his urgency too, and with an awkward fumbling he
began to unbutton Alex's shirt, while his tongue chased Alex's
around the confines of their coupled mouths.
	There was a soft gasp from Alex as Nick reached down
through the open, unfastened shirt to run his cold finger as lightly
as he could manage over Alex's hot chest, coming finally to rest on
Alex's nipple, which became erect under his feather-light touch.
Nick squeezed gently, eliciting another gasp muffled by his mouth.
Alex began to rhythmically push his hips into Nick, who
disconnected his mouth to place soft kisses on Alex's neck, his
restraint in perfect counterpoint to Alex's need. Alex knew he was
being teased, and began to unbutton Nick's shirt, and with Nick
completing this for him, the shirt fell away to one side. Alex now
quivered at the new sensation of their bare skin pressed against
each other, while Nick took the opportunity to descend further,
licking all around Alex's chest, which heaved slowly with Alex's
breathing, taking Alex's nipple into his mouth, running his hot
tongue over it, feeling the renewed push against his crotch, and
Alex's slim frame arching off the bed in pleasure. Nick smiled to
himself and continued on his journey downward, using his tongue
mark his trail, and his hands to prepare the way.
	Alex was quickly stripped of his trousers, leaving him
naked but for his boxers on the bed, Nick drawing back for a
moment, just a moment, to look on the sight, trying almost to
capture it as though he would in a photograph, the sight of Alex,
eyes closed in ecstasy, all smooth tanned skin and dark hard
nipples, soft downy hair and gently curving muscles, and the
outline of his hard cock through his virginally white boxers. And
Nick carefully pulls down the boxers, and Alex is naked and
perfect, and placing his hands on Alex's thighs, Nick licks
experimentally at Alex's cock. His partner lets out a quiet moan at
this treatment, and Nick goes down on him, licking around the
head, one hand gently playing with Alex's balls, the other playing
melody up Alex's thigh, Alex's body pushing his cock further into
Nick's mouth, Nick willingly receiving it, and tightening the grip of
his lips around it, working into a rhythm, Alex releasing another
soft groan, and Nick quickening his movements, until Alex tenses,
and Nick can feel what is about to come and runs his tongue ever
more roughly over Alex's cock and wanting it more than anything
at that moment feels the orgasm rip through Alex's body as his
cock shudders, hot, sticky liquid fills his mouth, stream after
stream, until Alex's body loosens, and relaxes, and sinks back onto
the bed, released.

	A moment passing.

	Alex's eyes blinked open suddenly, and he twisted
suddenly until he was straddling Nick, a mischievous look in his
eyes. "Your turn," he said. And with that, he started to kiss Nick
forcefully, more roughly than Nick had to him, and fuck, was Nick
ever welcoming it. He pulled Alex's head down on his mouth, and
his tongue shot inside, colliding with Alex's and struggling there
for a while. Alex felt his cock stirring again, and, taking Nick's
hands from the side of his head, he quickly unzipped Nick's jeans,
and tossed them out of the way. Nick's hard-on was tenting his
boxer-briefs something fierce, and there was a large damp spot,
where Nick's pre-cum had leaked into the fabric.
	Alex gazed at it with delight, placed his finger at the base
of the packet, and ran it up the shaft to the head, all along the
underside, all the while through the fabric, and Nick raised his hips
off of the bed, trying to push into Alex's touch. Alex glanced up;
there were other things to be attended to. He touched the tip of
Nick's cock briefly before straddling him just out of the reach of
his cock and returning his mouth to Nick's and kissing him deeply.
One hand played up and down Nick's spine, half-tickling, half-
arousing Nick to beyond all comprehension, the other ran through
Nick's soft blond hair, then descended to his nipple, playing with it
for a while till Nick let out a groan, then pulling down his boxers
to join the ever-increasing pile of clothes on the floor. He looked
down. There lay Nick's erection, swollen and dark, the head shiny
with pre-come.
	Alex felt himself more aroused than ever, and with one
hand he began to stroke himself, while he went down on Nick,
running his tongue hard around the head of Nick's cock, letting it
linger in his slit, driving Nick wild, too wild, and Nick grabbed on
to Alex's head and held him down, while he felt wave after wave of
pleasure overcome him and come wash out into Alex's ready mouth.

---ooo000ooo---
*blush*
Next (final) one should be out in a coupla days.