Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2000 14:28:42 EDT From: That's The Way I Like It <bsb_stories@hotmail.com> Subject: **NEW STORY** Fitting In Chapter 1 I'm alive!!!! Yes, it's May, and instead of updating my poor neglected stories I am starting a new one. I am VERY sorry for not returning some very old emails, but my hotmail account has also been on the fritz and a lot of stuff got wiped. I *will* be writing more on the others very soon, but I have been out of commission and out of inspiration lately and while I was starting to get back in the zone, I got the idea for this story. This story will feature the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync and possibly some other celebrities as well. However, the key thing to keep in mind is that they aren't singing groups in my story ... I'm just using them as characters. As always, please do not read this if you are offended by gay sex or if you can't differentiate between fact and fantasy. This is JUST FOR FUN. I hope this story is a little different than some of the other ones out there, and fun to read. A few quick comments before I start: Some great new Nick stories are out there ... Open Arms, Because I Love You, Beneath it All are just a few. I know my Nick in Changes is messed up, but I hope nobody thinks it is intended to be a negative portrayal. :/ Loving the threesome action in Xtreme N-Sync!!! Beck, where is your story???? What's with the BSB dissing in a couple of the crossover stories? Honestly, people ... and now, chapter one of my new story. "FITTING IN" by May CHAPTER ONE A trail of clothing lay scattered in a meandering trail to the enormous canopy bed. One sneaker on its side, another upside down, satiny track pants, a snowy white t-shirt, oxfords, khakis, a cotton sweater vest, a zippered sweatshirt, delicately rolled white socks, and a pair of large sized black flip-flops smelling faintly of sweaty feet. On the bed, two naked, wet bodies slid against one another, hands grabbing for mounds of flesh, loud slaps and pants filling the air and echoing in the little room. "Oh, yeah, oh, harder, harder!" Nick gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as sweat dripped down his face and over his full red lips. "Nick Carter, fuck me harder," Lance mimicked coyly, sliding one damp hand over Nick's soft stomach and tweaking a nipple painfully before he grabbed his cock with the other hand and carefully withdrew it from Nick's ass. Nick groaned irritably, but after Lance nudged him he broke into a smile and flipped over on to his stomach. Lance slapped Nick hard on the butt and thrust his cock back up inside him. "Do you like that, Nick Carter fuck me harder?" "Lance Bass... fuck my ass!" Nick giggled, lifting his butt up higher and reaching underneath himself to stroke his own cock. "Very good," Lance said, pinching Nick's nipples again. "We make a lovely couple, don't we?" "The best... harder! I said harder!" Lance yawned and blinked his eyes, realising that they had dozed off together, lying in the damp bed and smelling pungently of a nice long fuck session. "Wake up, puddin' pop," he said, tickling Nick lightly on the side. The sweet-talking Mississippi blonde gazed at his long-limbed boyfriend. They knew they were the best looking boys in their school. If there had been a queer homecoming court, there would be no doubt who would rule as the ultimate power couple. Lance let himself daydream a little about presiding over their junior prom this year, and then senior prom the next. They were the richest boys in their school, too, and everybody who was anybody went to their parties and sought their favor. It was easier to get to Nick, so Lance tried to keep him on a short leash. Lance ran a hand through Nick's soggy blonde hair and wondered to himself if Kevin was really going to come back this year or not. Nick's little bad boy. Lance rolled his eyes and kissed his boyfriend awake. "Hey baby," Nick beamed at Lance. He could never get over how sparkly those sea-green eyes were. He had a thing for green eyes, after all. "Are you ready for another year of boarding school?" Lance smiled. "Of course I am," Nick mumbled, snuggling into his boyfriend's body. Lance was so firm and strong and chewable. Nick hoped that J.C. wasn't going to be around this year. Well, hopefully the little letter campaign he'd set in motion would ensure that even if J.C. dared to show his face, Lance wouldn't be caught dead with him. "We'll have to find some new playtoys," Lance said, running his hands over Nick's plump ass. "Freshmen," Nick giggled. "Eww, I don't think so," Lance chuckled. "Besides, I thought you liked them older and dark." Nick didn't respond, but Lance felt a sudden charge through his body as Nick's tongue found his nipple and began to lick at it in short, hard little jabs, like a cat. Each motion left it more tender, and exposed to the open air when wet, the alternating hot and cold sensations made them stiffen. "Uhh," Lance sighed, twirling Nick's hair absent- mindedly as he let the feelings flow and churn through his body. He could feel the skin on his bare ass and back begin to prickle, and he could feel his cock begin to throb and harden against Nick's thigh. Nick continued to nibble and suck on Lance's chest, but he lifted one leg over Lance's and slid their hips closer together so that their erect dicks could rub against one another. Lance slid two fingers into his boyfriend's ass and felt the muscles clench lovingly against him. He shut his eyes and let his body move in gentle thrusts as Nick pleasured his sensitive nipples. "Stop baby," Lance had to say finally, "it hurts." Nick responded by kissing him on the mouth instead, and they delighted in long, sloppy French kisses while their hips began to move against each other with more intensity. Lance let his fingers out of Nick's ass and although he was tired, he was inspired to give him another fucking when he saw the lustful way Nick slid his leg high up Lance's body, pulling him on top of his body. "Just you wait, sugar pie," Lance whispered to Nick as he entered him again, "we are gonna have so much fun this year." "Dweebs." Chris hurled the ball as hard as he could. "Losers." Again; it hit the rim of the hoop and bounced right back at him. "Nerds." Off the back board. "Geeks." Air ball. "Aww... Crappedy crap..." "Lose something?" Chris turned around, confused, and saw a small, slender boy dribbling his basketball. "Yeah. Thanks." The boy bounced it to him and nodded. "You can just come use this court whenever?" "Yep," Chris said, staring down the hoop as he set himself up for another free throw. "Just have to check out the balls at the front desk." He knew the kid was watching him, and he chickened out and just started dribbling again, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself. God knows how long he'd been watching him as it was. "So is this your first year here?" "Yes," the boy said quickly, breaking out into a huge smile. He was obviously thrilled that Chris wanted to talk to him, and he came over and gladly accepted the ball when Chris bounced it his way. The kid lazily tossed it at the hoop and it went in easily. Sigh. "My name's Brian," the kid said. He ran over to fetch the ball and bounced it to Chris. "No, you go ahead," Chris replied, bouncing it back. "I've been playing like, for hours. Kinda tired." "Oh, okay." Whiff. Another perfect free throw. "I didn't get your name?" "Technically, it's Chris. But you can call me Bomb Diggity." Brian looked at him curiously, not sure whether or not to laugh. Chris had a very deadpan delivery and finally Brian just dribbled and shot the ball again. Whiff. Perfect. "Are you going to try out for the team?" Brian wanted to know as he came trotting back with the ball. "Not sure," Chris said. "It might interfere with chess club." Brian nodded uncertainly. "I better get going," he said in his little country bumpkin drawl. "We got some orientation thingie." "Oh, of course," Chris said as he spun the basketball around in his hands, watching Brian trot back out of the gym. Way to go, Kirkpatrick. Why was it so hard to just be yourself? Howie shut his cell phone but decided to keep it in his hand as he made his way down the hall to his new dorm room. After all, it was the latest style and it was best to establish yourself immediately after the summer, in case your trendiness was in doubt. I don't have to just copy Nick and Lance, Howie thought to himself smugly. I already *know* what's in. "Just set the bags down here in the hall while you get the rest," he said airily to his driver, who did so with a tip of his cap and then was on his way back downstairs. Howie hadn't seen any of the "cool people" yet, but he hoped that his outfit would blend it seamlessly. He'd spent nearly a week agonising over what to wear the first time everybody saw him again. At least nobody else would be as tanned. One of the benefits of having a little "ethnic flair," so to say. Howie smiled to himself as he tried his key in the door. It didn't seem to fit, and he frowned, looking around to make sure nobody had seen him looking foolish. Of course, Howie thought, that's room 214 and I'm in ... Oh God. The name on the door was unmistakeable. Howard Dorough. That was bad enough; he'd have to surreptitiously white that out and change it to Howie D. It was the other name that ensured a year in Hell. Alexander McLean. Why me? Howie asked himself. This was going to screw up his social life. People might start to think he was associating with that ... *loser* ... on purpose! He stood in the hallway hyperventilating until his driver showed up again with some heavier items. Howie reluctantly pushed the door open to let him in. "Hey, bro," A.J. grinned. He was lying on the bed, wearing boots and sunglasses, listening to loud music. I am *NOT* your bro, Howie thought. "Hey," he said weakly, setting his very fashionable cell phone down on the desk. He collapsed in his little desk chair and watched his driver sweat and groan, carrying in his stereo, his TV, his boxes of books and CDs, then his big suitcases and his little armoire. Just one closet was never enough. "Have a good year, Mr. Dorough." "Thanks," Howie said without looking at the man, who left in silence. It was nice that you didn't have to tip people who already worked for you. Howie found tipping extremely embarrassing. A.J. watched the whole thing in silence. He knew all about Howie Dorough. They had known each other even before going to Clarkville Academy. He felt sorry for Howie, even with all his money and his pretentiousness. It all came from a complete lack of self-esteem, and A.J. wondered if anybody could actually build Howie up enough to make a real friendship with him. "So did you have a good summer?" A.J. asked. Howie just stared at him and then picked up his cell phone again and walked to the door. "I have people to see," he said before leaving in a tizzy. "No skin off my ass," A.J. mumbled, but the smaller boy was already gone. "I don't know about this place," Justin smiled at his roommate, Brian, who was curled up under his blankie and wiggling his toes as he got comfy. "A lot of real snobby people." "Well, it's a private school," Brian said. "I guess that's normal." "I guess," Justin said, patting down his unruly curls as he looked himself in the face in the mirror. He looked all wrong, he thought. He wasn't a little boy any more, but he wasn't used to his body either. His hands and feet were too big; he felt uncoordinated, like a puppy. His nose was too big. Or was it? And then there was his hair. Well, I suppose that is why God made the store "Lids," Justin smiled to himself. "I think as long as you don't let it bother you, it won't even be an issue," Brian said, almost to himself. He sounded like he was already falling asleep. Justin let himself check Brian out in the mirror. His thin legs were half under the blanket and half exposed; tight little calf muscles as wound up and tough as Brian himself seemed to be. Justin couldn't believe the life story he'd already heard from his roomie, and he knew it wasn't even the half of it. Brian was sleeping now, breathing in and out in gentle sighs. Justin shook his head at himself. What are you thinking, boy? He stuffed a baseball cap on his head and slid his feet into sandals, and went out for a stroll to see if anybody else was around. Clarkville Academy was small, prestigious and expensive. Justin knew he was lucky to have won the scholarship he had to come here. His family wasn't poor, but there was no way he could have afforded it otherwise. He had to keep his grades up and his head together. Public schools back home in Tennessee were in sad shape, and he wasn't ever going to get into a good college with that kind of education. And then there were the super-rich kids Justin had seen at this place. They probably couldn't care less about the education they were getting, since they would probably just go work for Daddy after partying here and partying at college. Yeah, I'm jealous, Justin thought. It's natural, isn't it? After all, he had never been around people like that before. Justin was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the broad chest of another classmate until he ran right into it. "Sorry, man," he mumbled, looking face to face with the kid, who was rubbing his chest and glowering at him. "I *guess*," the kid said arrogantly. "Are you a freshman?" "Yes I am," Justin smiled. "Name's Justin." "Joseph Fatone IV," the kid intoned, raising an eyebrow regally. Then he let his face relax into an easy grin. "You can call me Joey, though." "Whoah, you scared me there for a second," Justin laughed. "Yeah, I like doing that. I think I'm gonna be an actor when I get out of dis joint," Joey said, slipping into a New York accent. "I'm on my way to the coke machine. Comin' with?" "Sure," Justin said shyly, and he followed the bulkier kid downstairs. Joey was one of those rich kids who dressed like a slob. He didn't care if anybody knew he had money. What was money, anyway? Just green paper. "Damn thing won't change a twenty," Joey said, digging around in the pockets of his sweatpants. "Here," Justin laughed, "shiny new quarters." "You're a good kid, you know that?" Joey said. "I gotta introduce you to some of my buds. Upperclassmen." He raised the eyebrow again. "They're cool, they have killer parties." "Sounds cool," Justin smiled. He'd probably fit in fine if Joey's friends were anything like him. "I better warn you though," Joey continued, "some of 'em are kinda snobby." Oh well, Justin thought, so much for that idea. Lance shuffled down to the basement, wearing only a robe and some slippers. He was absolutely parched and to his profound irritation, the mini-fridge he had was empty. Although it was great fun to be away at boarding school and out from under his mother's watchful eye, Lance always had to adjust to doing those few things for himself which couldn't be sent out, like laundry. At least he could usually force Nick to do it, but his boyfriend was sleeping so soundly that Lance wondered if he was actually dead. Lance smiled to himself as he walked down the steps, feeling his back ache from a day full of hard fucking. It was all worth it; it was the best part about being at Clarkville. His sweet little Nicky pie. Even if he had the urge to sleep with somebody else from time to time, Lance knew in his heart that he and Nick were meant to be together. To rule together. Lance heard Joey Fatone talking to somebody and he quickened his step. "Hey, Lance!" Joey grinned. The kid he was talking to turned and gazed at him, his mouth hanging open for a second before he shut his jaw quickly. He was tall and lanky, with full lips and nice blue eyes. Wheels began to turn in Lance's mind. "Why hello there, sweetie," Lance cooed at Joey, making eyes at Justin. "Who do you have down here?" "My name is Justin," the kid offered quietly. Lance was dazzlingly beautiful. His carefully highlighted blonde hair set off his tanned skin and those heavy-lidded green eyes. His robe gave a tantalising peek at his smooth chest, over a pair of strong, muscular thighs. "Well it's nice to meet you," Lance smirked, sliding his coins into the machine. "I sure hope you can come to my welcome back party tomorrow." "Everybody's gonna be there," Joey added with a big grin. Justin nodded, but continued to stare at Lance. "Everybody who counts, anyway," Lance said, casting his eyes over Justin's body one more time before he left. To be continued? ;-) What do you guys think?