Dogs
By Pet
mprov, 11/10/01. Spanked, feather, tweeze, piercing. I forgot 'spanked,' because I suck. Also, in the spirit of mprov, this is minimally edited, so please forgive.

It wasn't a club, or a hotel. Not a red carpet or a podium in sight, and there were no people with cameras following them. He thought. Probably. They weren't at Jive, or on tour. No, this time, he ran into AJ at the vet's. Dr. Brogan, best small animal vet in Orlando, or so Chris had assured him when he called in a panic at 2 am.

"Dude. ReLAX" Chris's voice had been lower than usual and pissy and rough with sleep, but if there was one thing he understood, it was dog-related emergencies, and he'd tried to be soothing. "Just...clean it up, take him outside. Don't let him eat. He prob'ly ate some chocolate or shit you left out, you slobby motherfucker, no wonder he's sick."

"That's not helping, Chris. He's puking all over my couch right NOW."

"And he'll live. Relax. Take him to my vet tomorrow, it'll be cool."

"I want to take him NOW."

"Joseph, it's three am. Shut up, relax, go to bed. Dogs puke, it's something they do, it's rarely fatal. Jesus, you're like this with a dog? I swear to Christ, I'm changing my number when your kid is born."

"Yeah. And who was it flew Korea back to Orlando when she had worms so she could see HER vet?"

"OK, point. Still. Tomorrow. No go the fuck away and let me sleep." And he'd hung up, and Joey had felt marginally better, but Cricket was still slinking around and throwing up every five minutes, and it was really gross and very worrying.

Eight am found him outside the vet's, shivering dog tucked under his arm. He was still in his sweats and old t-shirt, and prayed to whoever was looking out for boybands that day that no photographers were hiding in the bushes. He squinted at the sign. The whole building looked kind of old and run down. He wavered, wondering how much he could really, truly trust Chris, Chris who kind of hated Cricket and who was known to be a fucker, generally. The place was OLD. Cricket whimpered, and his mind was made up. He pushed through the doors, peered into the dimness.

Two old women sat, holding cats. A boy had a parrot in a cage, who alarmingly enough seemed to be missing half his feathers. Joey thought idly that he'd never seen anything look so miserable as that bird. Some guy with a hat over his face was in the corner, a yorkshire terrier in his lap. Joey admired his boots. Big black bruisers, with silver buckles up the sides. Kickin'.

He was suddenly deeply aware of his flip flops. Thank god JC hadn't managed to talk him into painting his toenails.

"Can I help you?" The lady behind the counter sounded tired already. Joey wondered if it had anything to do with the constant din of barking and whining and meowing he could hear in the back.

"Yeah, hey. I called...Fatone. I think my dog's dying."

She looked at Cricket skeptically. "He actually looks pretty lively to me." And it was true, he was wiggling and squirming pretty deteminedly now.

"No, I mean. He was throwing up. All over the place. Sit STILL!" He took a firmer grip. "I was referred by Chris..."

"Oh, CHRIS!" Her face lit up in a smile, changing her into someone almost pretty. "He's a favorite here. How are Busta and Korea doing? Those sweet dogs."

Joey looked at her, bemused. "Um, fine. I guess. Last time I checked."

"Wonderful." She was still smiling. "You'll have to say hi to him for us. He's a real favorite around here. Now, Mr. Fatone, you said your dog was vomiting?"

He nodded hard. "Yeah, for hours. All night. All over the place."

"OK." She handed him a clipboard. "Fill this out, and the vet will see..." she looked at him expectantly.

"Cricket."

"Yes. Cricket, shortly."

He skirted the cats carefully on his way to the seats. Cricket LOVED cats, but the sentiment was rarely returned, and those two cats probably outweighed him by five pounds each. He settled near the corner, settled the little dog on his lap, and bent over the clipboard. Those boots were right in his line of sight, as he chewed on the pencil. When WAS the last time he'd had a rabies shot? Joey couldn't remember. And heartworm? Who knew? He bet Chris knew. Damn, those boots were sweet. He really needed a pair. Major surgery? No. Neutered? Yes. He winced a little at the memory, but the guys had insisted if he wanted to bring Cricket on tour.

"Poor guy." He pulled on the sharp little ears. "No fun for you. Don't know what you're missing. Still. Sorry, man."

"Only crazy people talk to animals, Fatone." The voice was low, amused, familiar? He jerked his eyes up, and past the boots, and past black jeans, and...

"AJ." He kept his voice flat.

"Of all the veterinary offices in all the world, you had to come walking into this one..." AJ sighed dramatically.

"Yeah, well. I'd heard they were discriminating. Guess I heard wrong, huh?"

AJ raised a cool eyebrow. "Nice flip flops. I suppose we should all just be giving thanks that you bothered to get dressed at all." Dark eyes raked Joey head to toe. "Though DRESSED might be going a bit far."

"Hey." Joey got defensive. "My dog was puking up his guts, I had other things on my mind."

"Clearly."

"Shut the fuck up." Joey looked back at the form. "Oh, I don't fucking know what his birthday is."

"Really? And here I would have thought you'd have a little party every year. You could invite Kirkpatrick's fat rats, and Lance could bring his weasel. It'd be great. Isn't that the kind of thing y'all are into?" AJ was laughing, white flash of teeth, and Joey glared at him.

"I repeat, and I hate repeating myself, shut the fuck up, McLean. Anyway, what are you doing here? Little pooky have a boo boo?" Joey knew it wasn't his best stuff, but fuck, he'd had no sleep, and AJ had already knocked him off balance with those goddamn hot boots. He tucked his feet back under the bench.

AJ frowned briefly down at the Yorkie in his lap, and rubbed at the rough little head gently. "Something wrong with her leg, I think. She's walking all funny."

"Eh, sorry, man." Joey tried not to laugh at that image of that black-nailed, silver-ringed hand petting such a fluffy little dog. It was just WRONG, somehow. At least his dog was a mini-Pinscher. Small, sure, but cool.

"I'm sure it's nothing." AJ sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "Prob'ly just a thorn or something, they'll tweeze it out, no big deal." He kept up the petting. "You'll be ok, won't you, babe? Huh? The nice vet's gonna take good care of you, huh?"

Joey couldn't help the snicker. "Only crazy people talk to animals, McLean."

AJ shot him a disgusted look. "EVERYone talks to dogs, you dumb shit."

"That's not what you-" He subsided, wishing with every atom of his being that he'd stopped for coffee.

AJ grinned at him. "You should know by now not to listen to me. I'm a crazy person. Ask anyone."

Joey snorted. "Yeah, sure, ok. And what's a crazy person like you doing with a teeny little thing like that?" He gestured at the Yorkie. "I always figured you'd have a Rottweiler or, you know. Something. Bigger."

AJ cuddled the little dog closer. "I could say the same for you. My babies are just fine the way they are. Plus, they fit on the bus this way."

"Yeah." Joey looked down at Cricket, imagined what it would be like on the bus if he were full-sized, and shuddered briefly. "I hear that."

There was a pause, not entirely comfortable, and Joey was struck with the thought that really, what did you SAY to someone like this, outside the normal arena, when no one was drinking or smoking or performing? He started in on the form again, leaning more weight on Cricket, who seemed to be very interested in...oh man, a kid had brought in mice. Mice? Who kept mice?

"No, sit still." His sternest voice, the one that even worked on Justin. "No chasing the mice. Bad dog."

AJ chuckled. "Your dog don't look that sick, Joey."

Joey groaned. "People keep saying that. I'm gonna have to move out of my house while it's cleaned, swear to god. He messed the whole place up. Seriously, I thought he was dying."

"Oh, that-"

"McLean and Tinker." The receptionist's voice was loud.

Joey looked at AJ. Grinned. AJ flushed, and stood.

"Later, AJ. Tinker." He nodded solemnly at the dog, and held back his laughter until AJ had disappeared through the doors. Those were still some kick ass boots.

***

Three hours later, and Joey was pretty sure he'd offer up his firstborn for a cup of coffee. He'd listened to the vet talk about possible poison, the proper containment of household chemicals, and care with chocolate, and nodded contritely. Cricket was being kept for observation, so when he wandered back out of the office, all he had was a leash and a bill.

"Thank GOD," he breathed, as he saw that wonderful, beckoning green and white sign. Starbucks. Couldn't walk a block without tripping on one, and Joey'd never been so grateful. He dumped his stuff in the car, grabbed his cellphone, wished fleetingly for pockets, and headed up the street. A little public, maybe, but at 11 am on a Monday, he figured he was safe enough.

He was in deep conversation with Lance's favorite cleaning service when he pushed through the doors, inhaling deep and smelling that sweet coffee aroma. "No." He paused. "No, I need the whole HOUSE cleaned. Carpets, furniture, everything. Yes, today." Pause. "As soon as you can. I mean, I can't stand to be in the place." He nodded at AJ, almost twisted his neck in a severe double-take that garnered a smirk, but kept talking.

"This afternoon? Are you serious? And when will it be done?" Another pause. "Fine, ok. Yes, I understand that there will be a rush charge. Yes. Yes. Fine. OK." He snapped the phone shut and sighed.

"Trouble in paradise?" AJ was lounging at a side table, one of only three people in the place.

"Fucking cleaning service. Can't get to my place until this afternoon." Joey stomped up to the counter, smiled fakely at the barrista, and ordered a grande mocha latte with whipped cream and chocolate flakes. Oh. Yeah.

He slid in beside AJ, blissful with the first sip. Sure, it was AJ, but company was company, and it didn't look like he'd be going anywhere soon.

"How's your dog?" AJ actually sounded interested.

"Possible poisoning. They're keeping him overnight." Joey sighed. "I suck. They think he ate rat poison or something."

"Eh, it happens. As long as he's ok."

"Yours?"

"Broken ankle." AJ frowned. "And I have NO idea how that happened."

"Aw, dude. That sucks." Joey patted his shoulder, then drew back. He and AJ were definitely not on fellow-bandmember-touching-terms, but it was hard for Joey to remember sometimes that other people didn't necessarily crawl all over each other all the time. It was amazing, how much trouble that had gotten him into in the past.

"She'll be ok." AJ shrugged. "They're keeping her too. Your little ratdog better not bother her, either."

Joey sniffed, sipped again. "He won't. My dog has better taste than to go for some little ball of fluff named TINKER."

AJ flushed, again. "Look, my nephew named them, ok? Tinker and Toy. It's not my fault."

Joey stared at him, blank, and then collapsed into laughter.

"Yeah, like 'Cricket' is so much better," AJ muttered into his cup.

"You're just..." Joey gestured helplessly, still giggling. "This, you know, the tattoos and piercings and everything, and TINKER! And TOY!" He howled.

"OK." AJ glared at him straight on, and he could feel it, even through the sunglasses. "It's not that funny, you shit."

"No, no, I know, sorry." Joey wiped his eyes. "Sorry, man. It's just the image, you know?"

"Yeah, whatever." AJ sulked back into his seat. "I was gonna be all nice and friendly and help a fellow pet owner out, offer you a shower and a decent shirt, see if I do that NOW."

"Oh, hey." Joey sat up straight, and sobered instantly. "Hey, that would be very very cool of you, man. Seriously, C's out of town, and Chris is gone all day, Justin's got a thing and Lance is in New York. No more cracks, swear to god."

"Too bad." But AJ's mouth was twitching into an almost-smile. "Mock my dogs and pay the price."

"No, no, seriously." Joey was almost begging, but his hair felt sticky and his shirt was dirty and now that he'd had coffee, the idea of a shower was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine. "I love your dog. Your dog is great. Great dog, wonderful name, very manly. Seriously."

AJ pulled his shades down with one finger, considered Joey, pushed them back up. "Don't go too far, Fatone." He sighed. "You do look shitty. And I do owe you for that joint at the VMAs."

"Yes!" Joey brightened. "You do! And one shower, and all slates are clean."

"OK." AJ grabbed his cup and stood. "As charming as this establishment is, we should probably get going." He walked to the door. "We're pushing our luck as it is."

Joey trailed after him, even more aware that he was basically wearing pyjamas. "Thanks, man. I owe YOU for this."

AJ snorted, and held the door for him. "Ladies first. I think Nick left a shirt or two that should fit you. You gotta give 'em back, though, and he doesn't hear about this."

Joey ignored the 'ladies' crack; he was getting a shower, he could afford to be magnanimous. "What, is he still pissy about that Justin thing? I thought they'd worked that out."

"No, I think JUSTIN probably worked it out. Nick's still bitching and moaning about it." He paced smoothly at Joey's side, the solid thump of his bootheels in time with the 'smack, smack' of Joey's flip flops.

"What happened there, anyway?" Joey looked at him sideways. "Justin just twitches when we ask him about it."

"I dunno. Either they fought or they fucked, and either way, I don't wanna hear about it." AJ shrugged carelessly. "Wish Nick would stop throwing things at the TV when your boy shows up on it, though. Do you know he's already gone through three? We told him to stop watching MTV, but he won't listen."

Joey laughed. "Justin and NICK?" He paused, midstep, then kept walking. "Huh. I guess maybe." They reached his car, and he slid in. "I'll follow you, right?"

"Right. Try to keep up." AJ grinned at him again, and Joey groaned. He'd already had three speeding tickets this month. Any more and they'd revoke his license.

AJ, surprisingly, drove his little red convertible fairly sedately, and Joey breathed a sigh of relief. His driveway was huge, his house even bigger, and Joey was reluctantly impressed. He kicked off his flip flops inside the door, looking warily at the expanse of white carpet. It was all so clean! He wondered what his carpet would look like, after it was cleaned. He barely remembered the original color.

"Well, come on in." AJ gestured impatiently. "Guest bathroom's upstairs on the right, there's towels in there. I'll go hunt up that shirt."

Joey looked at him and smiled. "Eager to get rid of me, McLean?"

AJ huffed irritably. "Dude, you smell. Bad. I didn't want to say anything, but before we get down to any major bonding activities, you just GOTTA shower."

Joey paused for a moment to consider the possibilities of 'major bonding activities.' He'd heard some things...Then he sniffed at himself and winced. He must have blocked it out. Well, one more thing to be grateful to AJ for.

"Thanks, man. I'm gone."

The bathroom was huge, marble sink and brass fixtures, and Joey rolled his eyes, wondering if AJ and Justin had used the same decorator. Lots of hot water, though, and he wasn't going to bitch about it. Even the soap smelled nice. He scrubbed down and sighed happily, turned off the water, and...

"AJ?"

No reply.

"AJ!" He yelled, hoping he was somewhere in earshot.

"What?" Faintly.

"TOWELS, MAN!"

"Ah, fuck." Still faintly, and then he heard footsteps on the stairs. "There should be some in the cabinet." Clearer, through the door.

"Nope, I checked. All you got are those little hand towel things."

"Dammit to shit." The footsteps retreated, and Joey stood, dripping, on the bathmat.

"Here." The door swung open, and AJ stepped through, towels in hand, and Joey yelped and skittered behind the sink.

"Shit, Joey, you're getting water everywhere! I thought you were still in...ah, never mind. Here." AJ handed the towels over, and looked Joey up and down as he wrapped one hastily around his waist.

"Dude. Hello. I'm feeling a little naked here, wanna go away?" Joey made a shooing motion with his hand, and hoped he wasn't blushing, and AJ grinned.

"Just checking out the competition." He looked Joey over, deliberately, again, and Joey felt his pulse--stupidly--speed up.

"Well, check it out when I've got some pants on, thanks." He hoped his voice wasn't quavering like his stomach. Damn dark eyes, all over him like hands. He scowled at AJ.

"But it's so much NICER this way." AJ sent him one more leer, then laughed and turned. "Fine, fine, I'm gone. Wouldn't want to offend the delicate lady, after all."

"Oh, hang on." Joey took a step, still scowling. "A, not a lady. B, where's my shirt?"

"You mean Nick's shirt?"

"Whatever."

AJ shrugged. "Couldn't find it. You're shit outta luck."

"So loan me one of yours." Joey folded his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, right." AJ looked at him again. "I wear my shirts pretty tight, and YOU will not fit into them, no way, no how."

"Fine." This day was just getting worse and worse. "Get out, then, an' I'll just get back into my nasty dirty shit and be on my way."

"Nah, man, I'm still looking. I can at least find you some clean sweatpants or something. Just...hang tight." AJ smirked, and was gone.

Joey groaned. He was clean, yeah, sure. Also half-hard, infuriated, frustrated, and pissy, and it was all AJ's fault. Overtattooed skinny little bastard. Joey finished drying off morosely, and was only partially placated when AJ handed in a pair of ancient sweatpants without further commentary.

He stomped down the stairs a few minutes later, having tried and failed to bring some order to his hair, and feeling remarkably naked without a shirt. He narrowly avoided stepping on a small dog--Toy, he assumed--on his way to the kitchen, where AJ was sitting at the counter, staring at a microwave.

"Searching for inspiration?" He was mildly gratified when AJ startled and spun.

"Oh, it's you."

"How many other people do you have stashed in this place?" Joey settled onto a stool.

"I'm trying to make you coffee. The little thingy isn't turning." AJ glared at the microwave, as if he could make it work by the power of his will alone.

"It's just off the turner." Joey moved over, and popped the door open, resettled the turntable, and pushed start. The microwave started up again with a satisfied little hum, the cup spinning nicely.

"Cool, yeah." AJ seemed distracted suddenly. "What's that-here, turn around again. No, spin. Fatone, just-" He grabbed Joey's shoulder and turned him, so he was looking at his back. "Hey. Secret ink!"

Joey threw a grin back over his shoulder. "Yeah, I figured that was just about the only place I could get one where there wouldn't be pictures all over the internet the next day. And still, you never know."

AJ chuckled. "Tell me about it. Nice. Is that tribal?"

Joey felt fingers on the small of his back, feather-light touch, and shivered before he could help it.

"Yeah." He choked out, because those fingers were tracing the design. "AJ..."

"What?" AJ's voice was still distracted.

"What the-" He moved away abruptly.

"Hey, man." AJ held his hands up, palms out, and the silver of his rings looked heavy and cold. "Hands off. Sorry. I just forget sometimes when I'm not with my guys. No offense."

"No offence." Joey looked at him curiously. "You all are pretty tight, huh?"

"Oh yeah." There was a bitter twist to AJ's mouth before he laughed, though, and Joey was dying to ask, but he really had no business there. "Just like brothers."

"Seriously?"

"Well..." AJ drew it out, consideringly. "Not really BROTHERS, maybe."

"Yeah." Joey nodded. He understood. Lovers, brothers. Best friends. Whatever, they were closer than anything, and he'd never really found a word for it. And AJ was still looking at him. "So, tell me. Why're you being all nice to me? OK, not nice, but you've never been one for boyband outreach, as I recall."

"Boyband outreach, nice." AJ snickered. "No, I'll leave that to Howie. Maybe I was just jonesin' for some famous Fatone loving."

Joey's eyes widened involuntarily before he barked a laugh. "Oh, funny. 'Yeah mom, I found him at the veterinarian's office. Can I keep him?'"

"Hey," AJ sounded affronted, and stood in a smooth movement that Joey couldn't help but watch. "It's not ENTIRELY impossible."

"Sure, McLean. You're taping this conversation, right? You're gonna use it for blackmail, right? Play it at the next awards show over the PA?"

AJ laughed, honestly, and Joey found himself smiling at the sound. "No, but thank you for that BRILLIANT idea. I'm writing that one down. Later." He stepped closer to Joey, and Joey stepped back, but was stopped by the counter. Slim, black-tipped hands came up and touched his sides, just under his ribcage, and he shivered. AJ cocked his head, looked into his eyes. Joey wondered when he'd lost the shades. He looked almost sweet, without them.

"Do you mind?" AJ murmured, not moving. Joey ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips, and shook his head, the edge of the counter cold at his back, hands warm on his skin.

"Good," AJ said, still in that low, quiet voice. "I am SO glad Howie wasn't feeding me a line of shit." He leaned in, and up, and Joey lowered his head, almost unwillingly.

He'd always loved the first touch of a first kiss, the feeling of warm lips against his own, new and strange and exciting. AJ was warm, and smooth, pressing against him gently, unexpectedly soft. He could feel the smooth line of AJ's goatee on his skin, and it had been a while, and he remembered how much he LIKED that. He smiled, a little, and felt AJ's lips curve in response against his own, and then there was a hot, slick tongue tracing his lips, asking to be invited in. Joey wasn't going to say no, and opened, and he was tasting AJ. One sweep of his tongue, and sharp teeth nibbling at him, and his hands were suddenly full of AJ's hair, running down to his neck, and he couldn't remember how they'd gotten there. Couldn't remember much at all.

He pulled back, gasping, head swimming and face hot and mouth feeling heavy and bruised.

"Howie?" He had to ask.

AJ moved closer, pressing tightly enough that Joey could feel the scratch of the logo on his t-shirt against his bare skin. AJ's hands were making sweeps over his skin, too light to tickle, barely there, and Joey's breath wouldn't settle down. He spoke into Joey's throat, and the brush of hot breath tightened the heat in Joey's belly up another notch.

"He said JC said that you were. You know." AJ licked a long wet trail up to his ear, and the moan caught in Joey's throat. "He said you might be interested."

"Um." Joey tipped his head back, lost. "He...God. He did? You asked?"

"Mmmm." A noncommittal sound, but hell, Joey wasn't going to question fate, or even, at this point, JC's big mouth. He dragged his hands down AJ's body to the hem of his shirt, suddenly desperate for skin against skin. One good yank and it was gone, and there was warm skin and elegant lines of muscle under his fingers. He almost purred, and slid his arms around, pulling AJ even closer.

"Oh, nice." AJ approved, and feathered little nibbles and bites over his chest, pausing to suck at the skin over his collarbone, and that moan finally got free, and he could feel AJ's grin against his skin.

"OK, you-" If there was one thing Joey knew how to deal with, it was a height difference, and he bent and grabbed AJ around slim hips, lifting him easily and turning, settling him on the counter. He smiled up into AJ's startled eyes.

"Holy shit, Fatone." And he was sucking Joey's tongue into his mouth again, squirming up to the edge of the counter and wrapping long legs around Joey's waist, trying to eat him alive. Joey was more than willing to let him try. AJ was hot and almost vibrating in his hands, gasping into his mouth when Joey slid a few fingers into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him impossibly closer. He could hear the wet sounds of their kisses, the lewd slide of skin on skin and denim on skin, his favorite music in the world.

AJ's tongue was frantic in his mouth, tracing his teeth, dancing with his own, licking at the roof, then settling into a slow, languorous tongue-fuck that had Joey tensing and grabbing and grinding, just a little, with eager hips.

"Oh, fuck, Joey." AJ inched closer, until most of his weight was on Joey, and Joey slid hands under his thighs, feeling the heavy muscles bunch and flex as AJ moved.

"We gonna do this here?" It was always harder to talk when someone was trying to lick your tonsils, he'd found.

"Mmmm. No. Bedroom. Upstairs."

Bedroom sounded good. There would probably be a bed there. AJ showed no sign of wanting to move, though, and of all the people he'd fucked, AJ seemed the least likely to have issues with his masculinity, so...Joey gave a mental shrug, and just walked away from the counter, catching AJ's weight in his hands, not letting go.

AJ laughed, low and growling, and bit at his throat, wrapped around him, hands hard on his shoulders. "That's pretty fucking hot, Fatone, I gotta say."

"You ain't so bad yourself, McLean," Joey breathed, and he wasn't. Sleek and muscular and not as light as he looked, as Joey discovered on the stairs, but he'd burn in hell before he showed it was hard, and kept walking. AJ wasn't making it any easier, either, licking and nibbling and Joey wondered if it was possible to retain motor control without any blood at ALL in your brain. The bed made it all worthwile, though, huge and decadent, black sheets and blood-red comforter and Joey got a vision of AJ stretched out on it naked, pale skin and black tattoos and silver and he almost choked.

AJ's back hit the mattress a split second before Joey hit AJ, full-body press, finally, finally, and the heels of AJ's boots were scratching at the small of his back, and he didn't care. He braced up on his elbows, craving some kind of contact, and pushed his hips forward into the V of AJ's legs, and HOLY shit, he dropped his head and keened at the feeling. He could feel the rasp of jeans through the old sweatpants, it was almost like being naked, heat and hardness and he couldn't remember BEING this hard ever. Fucking AJ and his fucking smart mouth and slinky body and biker's boots, speaking of which, "Man, I love those boots, but they gotta go."

AJ nodded, and dropped one hand from his back, twisting sideways to reach without moving his legs, and Joey laughed and sat up, dislodging him. He fumbled with the buckles of one, AJ took the other, and they hit the ground with twin 'thud's. A twist of liquid hips and AJ was shimmying out of his jeans, bare and spread out and Joey could not get his sweatpants off fast enough.

"Naked," he breathed in relief, and AJ laughed up at him, and moved, and he was flat on his back, AJ pressing him down, hands stroking his belly, fingertips teasing his hipbones, making him arch up and sigh. He'd been hard for what felt like forever, and when he felt a smooth hand close around his cock, he had to bite his tongue and dig his heels into the mattress to keep from coming, and his hips bucked up helplessly, even so. AJ chuckled evilly, and Joey watched through slitted eyes as he licked at Joey's chest, biting at a nipple and making him twitch, lapping at the soft skin over his ribs, dipping his tongue into Joey's navel. Fucking. TEASE.

His own hands were tangled in dark hair, he wasn't pushing, he WASN'T, but he figured his expression must have been pretty clear when AJ looked up at him, wet, sinful mouth and dark laughing eyes. Joey would NOT beg, but oh, shit. That mouth. That tongue. And AJ seemed to be waiting for SOMEthing...

"Oh, come ON..." torn out of him, low and raspy. AJ grinned, and licked his lips.

"Come on, what?"

"Come on, please?" Joey tried, holding to his patience with an iron grip.

"No, come on, WHAT?"

Joey growled, and tugged his hair, gently. AJ pulled back a little, still grinning. "If you can't say it, I can't do it."

"Fuckin'..." Joey moved his hips restlessly. "Fine. Please, AJ, just suck me already."

"You do have a way with words," AJ murmured, but he bent, and licked once, root to tip, and Joey almost came apart underneath him.

"Oh, FUCK," he breathed, and then just tried to hold on, as AJ licked around the head, teasing him, and then moved down and swallowed him whole.

Smooth, hot, wet, hint of teeth a white shock to his brain, and he wasn't thinking any more, because AJ was just a master, and clearly enjoyed his work. That tongue snaked around him, even as he slid in and out so smoothly, and he was almost embarrassed by the desperate little noises he could feel in the back of his throat.

He was trying so hard to be good, and then AJ started humming, and his hips snapped up, and he was out of control, sucking for air as he thrust one, two, three times, "Shit, AJ, gonna, fuck," and AJ didn't seem to care, and silver pleasure coiled up his spine and down his thighs and into his groin and he was coming so hard he screamed.

He felt movement, AJ was shifting. He thought maybe he was dead. He knew for sure he couldn't open his eyes. Another minute shift, and AJ settled over him, heavy and warm. He rested.

"Fatone, if you pass out now, I will haunt you until you die." AJ sounded very smug.

He grunted. He wasn't passing out. He was DEAD. Couldn't AJ tell? It was his fault, after all.

"Joey." AJ poked at his shoulder. "Joey, open your eyes. Man, you punk out now and you will NEVER hear the end of it. I'll tell Howie. I'll tell CHRIS. I'll tell management at Jive. I'll-"

With a herculean effort, Joey managed to clap one hand over that annoying mouth. "Give me just a minute, please, asshole," he said evenly, opening his eyes, finally. "I am trying to locate a heartbeat. So shut. UP." AJ grinned against his palm, but was quiet.

Finally Joey dropped his hand, and groaned, and sat up, taking AJ with him. He ran a hand through his hair. He was supposed to follow THAT?

AJ shifted off his shoulder, and sprawled back down, carelessly naked and very hard. Hard, and fairly large, and Joey eyed him warily. AJ raised an eyebrow at him.

Time to just bite the bullet, so to speak. He moved to settle between AJ's legs, ran his hands up long pale thighs, pleased with the rasp of hair under his palms. AJ sighed and moved a little, twisting into his hands.

Joey thumbed the crease where AJ's thighs met his body, feeling the groove where the muscle curved into hipbone, tracing the line of black curls up onto a hard belly that shivered under his touch. AJ fisted the sheets in his hands, and tensed, lifted one knee and let it fall again.

Joey smiled, and moved his mouth up, dragging it over AJ's belly, hip, thigh, finally letting his tongue out to play when he buried his face between AJ's legs, smelling salt and heat and musk, and found the heavy weight of AJ's balls, drawn up tight against his body now. There was a shiver and AJ made a choked hoarse sound, and Joey grinned around his mouthful, careful of his teeth. It was all coming back to him. It really WAS like riding a bike. He'd have to tell Chris, who'd made dire warnings of loss of all skills and had offered himself up as a volunteer sacrifice for Joey's future lovers. The smack he'd gotten in response hadn't seemed to bother him at all; in fact, he'd run away laughing. Little shit.

Still, maybe AJ, who tasted as sweet as every sin to ever hit the earth, made it easy. He was bucking up against Joey's hands on his thighs, eyes half-lidded, mouth open a little and panting. Joey wished he had a camera; he'd never seen anything so sexy.

Joey gave soft skin a final, loving lick, and moved up a little, still teasing, mouthing the soft skin on the inside of a thigh. AJ moaned low, and shifted his legs again, anxiously. Probably expecting retaliation, but Joey wasn't so cruel. He braced himself on one arm, took a deep breath, and closed his mouth over the head. AJ yelped and Joey caught the thrust in his hands, holding those hips to the bed. AJ was close, he could feel it, could see it when he peeked up, he had his lower lip between his teeth and was biting it hard, eyes closed, head back.

Joey wrapped his hand around the base, remembered the rythm he liked, and tried to go with it, bobbing his head, licking and sucking and tasting. AJ was burning hot on his tongue, jumping and moving and yeah, Joey remembered why he liked this.

Fingers twined in his hair, holding just a little too hard, but Joey didn't mind, just kept moving, hollowing his cheeks in a long pull that had AJ twisting and panting and whoa! Coming, shuddering, long pulses of hot salt that Joey swallowed without even realizing he'd done so. He kept sucking, more gently, till AJ's hips lost their tension and settled bonelessly down, until he was soft and spent in his mouth. One final fond lick, and he let him slip wetly out of his mouth. He dragged the back of his hand across his lips, grinned at the memory of Justin beatboxing, and sat back on his heels, satisfied.

AJ, if not quite dead, seemed very content, spread out where he'd landed, arms wide and head back. He was blinking up at the ceiling. Joey crawled up at his side, settled beside him, feeling him long and warm against his chest.

"Now," AJ breathed, cleared his throat, tried again. "Now, we can pass out."

Joey nodded sleepily, dropped his head into the crook of AJ's shoulder, and yawned hugely. The caffeine rush was gone like it had never been, and he was suddenly aware that he hadn't slept at all the night before.

AJ's arm curled up around his shoulder, squeezed him for a moment, then dropped, but AJ shifted until his leg was tangled with Joey's, so he could feel him breathe against him.

The last thing Joey saw before his eyes shut heavily was the famous 69 tattoo, and he smiled. After all, they didn't need to pick the dogs up until tomorrow.

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