Divisions.

        Sean Conlon was Pollyanna.

        He was glad that he was in Five.  He was glad that he had talent, fame, wealth, and screaming girls.  He was glad that he was getting to see new places and meet new people.  He was glad that he had opportunities that most people only dreamed of, and that some couldn't even imagine.  He was glad that he was with fun guys like Ritchie, Scott, J., and Abs.  And he was glad that those fun guys were leaving him out of their little drama.

        As much as he liked them, as close as the five of them had become, he was really glad that they were leaving him out of it.

        It had started off simply.  They'd started to pair off: Ritchie and Scott, J. and Abs.  It wasn't like two of them would run off somewhere and the other two would only be together and Sean was alone all of the time.  It was just that sometimes two of them would spend a little more time together, turn to each other first.  And that was cool.  It was natural, really.  No one thought anything of it.

        Until the divisions began to shift.

        Ritchie fell in love with Scott.

        Maybe it wasn't true forever love, maybe it was just a crush, but whatever it was, Sean knew all about it.  J. and Abs knew all about it.  Everybody knew all about it - - except for Scott, of course, who had no idea.  Scott continued to be Ritchie's best friend; they hung out together, they sang "Until the Time Is Through" together, everything was great.  And as long as Scott kept turning to Ritchie first, Ritchie was fine.

        Except that Scott started to turn to Abs.

        Ritchie liked Abs.  Ritchie and Abs were close friends.  But every time Scott sat down beside Abs instead of beside Ritchie, Ritchie harbored very sadistic thoughts about what he could do with Abs' cute friendly face and a penknife.

        Abs knew about Ritchie's crush on Scott, but all five of them were friends, and it didn't occur to his innocent mind that Scott talking to him would bother Ritchie.  He barely noticed the difference; it wasn't like he had a chart mapping out the percentage of time Scott spent with different people.

        Ritchie noticed.  Which really wasn't unusual, since he had a crush, and people with crushes tend to become obsessive.  Ritchie hated himself for being petty, and hated himself for resenting Abs, and hated himself for wanting to smack Scott across the face and scream "Pay attention to me!"

        A typical scene, therefore, was the five of them sitting in a dressing room waiting for a TV performance.  Sean was on the sofa watching the drama unfolding before him.  Ritchie was sitting beside Sean, watching Scott and Abs.  Scott and Abs were sitting on the other sofa, turned towards each other, talking animatedly, laughing and touching each other.

        And J?  Ah, yes, J.  J. was there too.  J. was sitting slouched on a director's chair, watching Scott and Abs in the brightly lit dressing room mirror.  His light blue eyes stared at the reflection of their conversation.  And he wondered what he could do to get back those precious months when Abs had looked at him like that.

        It wasn't that Abs ignored him.  They were still close friends.  All five of them were.  But to the obsessive mind, the balance was delicate.  And J. could tell the difference, the subtle hints over the past week that things were changing.  Abs wasn't changing.  But everyone around Abs was.  Especially Scott.

        J. didn't like Scott as much anymore.  Oh, they'd always gotten on well, and Scott was still a great guy.  But it was hard to think only happy thoughts about someone who was stealing your best friend from you.  Your best friend who used to smile at you in a certain amused, satisfied way that made your own smile come forth while your cock just started to twitch to life.

        And yeah, getting a hard-on over one stupid smile was pretty dumb.  But J. couldn't help it.  Every time Abs treated him like someone special and interesting he wanted to put his hand down Abs's pants.  Which was disturbing, and Abs had no idea that he felt that way, and he couldn't be mad at Abs for sitting there talking on a sofa with one of his own favorite people.

        But he could blame Scott for it.  Because Scott wanted Abs, too.  He knew it.  He knew it like he knew the sun set in the west.  He could recognize the signs because Scott had the same symptoms that he did.  Abs was lots of fun, but there was no way that one short guy with spiky black hair was that fascinating.  Logically, he knew that.  A normal person, even a normal friend, would like Abs within reasonable limits.  Only someone who was attracted to Abs (but, really, why would anyone not be attracted to Abs?) would smile that often in normal conversation, or sit that close, or listen that attentively.  J. made Abs the focus of his world when Abs spoke just because he felt, deep inside, that nothing else was really worth paying attention to in comparison.  And he knew that Scott must be having that same feeling.

        Which totally fucked with J.'s life.

        So J. hated Scott, J. wanted Abs, Ritchie hated Abs, Ritchie wanted Scott, and Scott wanted Abs.  And Abs was sitting there holding a casual conversation while waiting to be called onstage.

        Sean was really glad that they were leaving him out of it.

        J. had kept his feelings to himself.  He didn't need anyone knowing about his feelings or feeling sorry for him, like with Ritchie.  His crush was his business.  If he was falling desperately in love with one of his closest friends, that was up to him, and nobody needed to know about it.  Especially not said close friend.  But lately, whenever he saw Scott and Abs together, he wanted to grab Scott by the throat and shout, "Hands off of my property!"  Not that Abs was his property.  Not that he was allowed to put his hands on Abs, either.

        He wondered what would happen if he let Scott know what was really going on among the four of them.  What would happen if Scott knew that a.) he knew that Scott was trying to get in Abs's pants, and b.) his own hand was reaching for the prize, too.  Would Scott back off in the name of friendship?  Would it get ugly?  Was one short half-Irish half-Turkish guy really worth messing with their careers?

        Hell yes.

        Right in the middle of their drama, they were given a few days off of the tour.  It would be a tremendous relief for the five of them.  J. was looking forward to getting some sleep for once.  The tour was extremely intense, fast-paced, and timed so that he felt like there wasn't a minute that he could sit and breathe.  Maybe that last part was because every time they did pause for breath, he looked up and saw Scott putting a hand on Abs's shoulder, and then he couldn't breathe at all through his jealousy and frustration.

        They were being put up in an American hotel.  J. really liked America.  It was a little too pleased with itself, maybe, but so were most Americans, so it fit.  They had their rooms in one hallway with a lounge at the end.  In the lounge was a little kitchen with a fridge, kind of like a minibar only more expensive.  They weren't supposed to touch it.  They did anyway.

        The first night out, J. was feeling good, showered and relaxed, ready for a few days of holiday.  He'd jerked off in the shower, closing his eyes and picturing Abs in there with him...Abs naked and wet...steam rising...water sliding down tight pale skin...  Woah.  Gotta get that reaction time checked.  So now he was hungry, and he decided to run and get a quick snack before turning in for good.  He went down to the lounge.

        That was a mistake.

        Before he set foot in the room, he heard laughter.  Abs's laughter, and Scott's.  He became very still and, mentally slapping himself for being a suspicious idiot, carefully peeked into the room.

        The lights were out, except for a lamp on the table by the sofa, which made the two of them all cosy in their corner.  Abs was sitting with his back against the sofa's armrest, feet curled under him.  Scott was sitting facing Abs.  When Scott leaned forward, leaned closer, Abs had nowhere to go.

        "You always say your eyes have green in them, but they just look dark brown to me," Scott said.

        "Just brown has no class," Abs said.  "There's green, down at the bottom."

        "You're sure?"

        "You don't believe me?  Have you ever looked at me?"

        "I'm looking."  Scott took Abs's chin in one hand and leaned in to look.  Abs didn't move away, didn't react, just sat there patiently and looked into Scott's eyes in return.

        Jealousy stormed J.  Didn't Abs know what Scott was doing?  Didn't those brown with green eyes see anything?!

        Or did Abs know, did Abs know exactly what Scott was doing, and Abs just...just...didn't mind?

        To keep from killing himself, J. walked into the lounge and headed for the refrigerator.  "The green's in there if you know what to look for," he said.

        "See?" Abs told Scott.  "I told you.  J.'s on my side."

        J., not hungry anymore (at least not for food, maybe for sex or revenge), closed the refrigerator and walked over to the couch.  He took Abs' chin in his own hand, being clear about it but very very gentle, and tipped back Abs's face.  "See that?  There at the bottom?  Prettiest eyes you'll ever see."  He forced himself to let go, not caring just then whether Abs noticed how his fingers trailed over cherished skin in a caress, and left the room.  His fingers burned, and not from stubble chafing.

        His heart was racing as his mind snapped back into gear.  He'd tipped his hand.  He'd tipped his fucking hand.  Stupid impetuous unthinking - - now what?  Now they knew, Scott knew, Abs knew.  He'd touched, touched that gorgeous face, lifted it to his, gotten good and close, could have...could have...  Could have lowered his own face and kissed that mouth and made Abs forget about Scott and forget about anything else and for once, for fucking once, think about him.  Because he knew about the green in Abs's eyes.  He loved that green.  He loved...  And they knew all about it, now.  Both of them.  Scott had to have noticed; since Scott wanted Abs, Scott would have that territorial sense that J. had, that alerted him to a potential threat.  What would happen now?  Would Scott recognize his claim and back off?  Or would Scott pretend not to notice?  Or would they have to go to war?

        In the morning, when he walked into the lounge for breakfast and passed Scott by the toaster, he saw.  He knew.  War had been declared.  Scott Robinson was not going to back down, not this time.

        J. knew that Scott still had no idea about Ritchie's feelings.  He knew that if he clued Scott in on that score, it would change the entire situation.  It would throw Scott off, and it might even get Scott to back off of Abs for the other white meat.  But that would betray Ritchie, and J. wouldn't do that.  He wouldn't hurt Ritchie.  He'd have to win this one on his own.

        J. was older than the rest of them.  Older than Sean by five years, and the rest by three.  He'd been around the block, he'd had a few relationships.  But he didn't know how to seduce a guy.  He didn't know how to make a guy respond, how to get a guy to look at him, how to clue Abs in on the fact that they could be more than just friends.  With women, that little bit of tension was always there, and every encounter had that spark of possibility.  He knew that it wasn't occurring to Abs that they, too, could have that possibility.  What was he supposed to do?  Go for a kiss and see if he got punched for it?  He was not going to sit down and pour out his heart.  No way.  He wanted to say, "Hey, I like you, come to bed with me."  He wanted to slide his hand inside Abs's boxers and make Abs hard, make Abs moan, make Abs come, but he didn't know how to get to that stage.

        Scott, it turned out, knew.

        When Abs walked into the kitchen, Scott and J. very carefully did not look at each other.  They waited to see what their prey would do.  Abs said good morning to everyone in general, then walked over to where J. was standing by the sink.  They had a conversation.  J. really didn't remember, later, what they'd been talking about; he remembered only that Abs had come to him, walked over to him first, and that Abs kept looking at him.  In every look, every word, every gesture, Abs's plea was clear.

        Abs had noticed something off last night.  And Abs had a suspicion of J.'s feelings.  And Abs wanted him not to feel that way.

        Abs wanted everything to be normal.  Back to the way it had been.  The way it had been when Abs and J. were great friends and J. wasn't interested in being anything more.  Abs was confused, and desperate, and trying to make everything all right.  Abs was afraid.

        So J. kept it calm, kept it cool.  Just two guys hanging out in a kitchen.  Talking and joking like any guy friends had done for the past several thousand years.  He watched Abs forget, watched Abs slide back into their friendship; and it felt good, it felt wonderful, to know that nothing needed to change, that he wasn't going to lose anything.

        And it felt like someone pulling out his major organs through his skin without anesthesia, one by one, slowly.  Because he had lost something.  He'd lost what might have been, what he'd wanted more than he'd wanted anything else.  Abs didn't want him.  Abs liked him as a friend, and that was special, he felt incredibly fortunate just for that, but he wanted more, damn it!  Damn him, damn Abs-

        -and damn that motherfucking Scott Robinson for walking off with his best friend.  Just when he'd gotten Abs comfortable again, when the confusion had left Abs's face and Abs wasn't afraid of him and his intentions anymore, Scott wandered into their conversation.  And now the two of them were off to play basketball.

        J. watched them go.  He clenched his jaw and tried to remember that he and Scott were friends, and bandmates, and it wouldn't do to kill Scott and tour as Four.  Then he noticed Ritchie, who was sitting there at the kitchen table with what had to be, by now, really cold tea.  Ritchie was holding the mug and gazing into it like it held some hypnotizing waters.  "You okay?"

        "Fine," Ritchie said.  "Scott's gone off to shag Abs.  I'm fine."

        The first thought that hit J. was that he'd never actually heard Ritchie refer to an interest in Scott.  It was standard knowledge that Ritchie wanted Scott, but no one ever said anything about it.

        The second thought that hit J. was that Ritchie didn't normally swear.

        The third thought made the first two vanish into the realm of the tremendously unimportant.  Scott was going to shag Abs.  Scott was going to - - "You're not serious."  Not that this was something to joke about, but Ritchie had to mean it as an exaggeration.  It wasn't like Scott would really...  He couldn't even think about it, didn't dare to think about it, it hurt too much.

        "You know that look Scott gets on his face when he wants to get a girl in his bed."

        "That stupid leer."

        "He thinks it looks seductive."  Ritchie laughed without any humor at all.  "Listen to me talking - - if he looked at me like that I'd drop my shorts on the spot.  He wouldn't even have to ask."

        Apparently Ritchie had gone for a walk off the deep end.  "He's not really going to..."  He couldn't even think the rest of the necessary words, much less say them.

        "They look good together," Ritchie said.  "Pale skin and dark hair."

        "I know."  He did know.  He'd had the same traitorous thought.

        "I hope he does try.  I hope Abs hits him for it.  I hope Abs knocks him cold and cuts it off."

        Wishing castration on another male was serious stuff.  Especially if Ritchie wanted Scott for himself.  "You think he will?" J. asked, hoping.  He didn't necessarily want Abs to go to that length (so to speak), but he did want Abs to refuse Scott.

        Ritchie set down the mug and stood, heading for the doorway.  As Ritchie left, J. heard, clearly, "No."

        Hours passed.

        Abs went into his room, closed the door, locked it.  He slid down along the door to the floor, sitting with his knees curled to his chest, trembling slightly.  Everything had been normal, he'd been having fun, Five was a great time.  And then last night J. had...  He still wasn't sure what that had been, that touch, that voice, those words, and that look in J.'s eyes.  Jason Paul Brown did not say that another guy, especially he, had the "prettiest eyes you'll ever see."  He was pretty sure that J. was due for a trip to Bedlam.

        He'd been confused.  More and more confused, the more he thought about it.  And then Scott had asked him for a game of one-on-one, and that was cool, he liked sports, even if he wasn't as good at basketball as Scott was.

        But Scott wanted a different kind of one-on-one.

        He shuddered and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead on his knees.  He'd never had a guy kiss him before, never had a guy touch him.  Not like that.  Not there.  And he'd never touched a guy there, either.  It had been new, and different, and exciting.  Touching Scott.  Touching Scott's naked body.  Touching Scott's cock.  Feeling it hard and hot and alive in his hand.  He'd known what to do, because he did it to himself all of the time.

        Kissing a guy was different.  Different from kissing a girl.  Or maybe it was just Scott.  The whole thing was different.  The girls he'd been with were small and soft, they had long hair and curves, they gasped musically.  Scott was bigger than he was, and hard, and hairy, and did heavy panting.  Girls were a little unsure at first, a little nervous about what to do, how to touch him.  Scott knew what to do, knew how to touch him.

        He'd been confused.  And Scott had invited him into Scott's room.  And it had felt good, so good.  And now he was more confused than ever.

        Finally he decided that he was hungry, and that it was stupid to be sitting there on the floor in his room, so he got up and went into the hallway.  In the lounge, Sean and Scott were watching an American basketball game.  He found some chips and sat with them on the sofa to watch.  His cock twitched some, wondering if it could get Scott to touch it again, but he ignored it.

        J. walked into the room, went to the refrigerator.  "What's on?"

        "They're not very good," Scott said.

        "Then why are you watching?" Sean asked.

        "Nothing better to do," Scott said.

        "Well, if you can get it up again, Ritchie's in his room," J. said, and found a soda, and left.

        "Shit," Sean said.

        Abs couldn't open his mouth.  He had no idea how to speak.  He wasn't even sure that his heart was beating.  Beside him, Scott was holding very still.

        "Aren't you going to go talk to him?" Sean asked.

        Talk to J. or talk to Ritchie?  God, Ritchie, Abs hadn't even thought about that, hadn't even - - could he be a more thoughtless, selfish mate?  He knew how Ritchie felt, he knew it, and he'd forgotten all about that and just gone ahead and gotten off with Scott anyway.  And J., J. knew, how did J. know?  What was he supposed to do now?  And why didn't Sean sound surprised?  How did everybody know?

        The game ended.  Sean and Scott left the lounge.  Abs sat there alone.  Finally he got up from the sofa and walked down the hallway.  He knocked on J.'s door.

        "I'm not in there."  J. appeared behind him and unlocked the door.  "You want to come in?"

        "You're not mad, are you?"

        J. walked into the room.  "Are you coming in or not?"  He stepped into the room, hesitant, and J. closed the door.  "Mad at you?  For getting it on with Scott?  Why should I be?  Just because I never knew you wanted him?  Just because he can walk in and smile and get you naked and I've been waiting for you since we met?"  Startled, shocked, he stepped back; J.'s hand came to the back of his neck and held him in place.  J. was very close now, and frankly he was beginning to think that he should be sticking to girls, because they usually weren't bigger than he was.  "How could you let him fuck you when you never let me?"  His heart was pounding.  He couldn't catch his breath.  "If you let him then you're going to let me," J. said, voice harsh, eyes angry.  "What did he do to you?  What did you let him do to you?"

        "Don't do this."  Whatever this was.

        "What did he do to you?"

        "He just touched me, we just jerked each other off, it's not-"

        "Did he kiss you?"

        "Yes.  J., come on, man, it's not-"

        "Did he suck you off?"

        "No!"

        J.'s hand pulled him closer; J.'s blue eyes were intense.  "Then I will."

        An hour later Abs was lying on his back in J.'s bed, staring up at the off-white ceiling, naked.  He could still taste J's come, could still feel the heat and throb of J.'s cock in his mouth.  It almost blurred out the memory of J.'s deep, angry kisses.  He'd never tasted semen before tonight.  Now he'd tasted his, in J.'s mouth, and he'd tasted J's.  Swallowed it.

        He rolled from the bed.

        J.'s hand reached out and caught his arm; J. half-rose, looking at him.  "Don't go."

        "What if Ritchie and Sean need a good-night shag?" he asked.  "I'm making the rounds today.  The official Five fuck."

        J.'s grip tightened; J. tried to pull him back to the bed.  "It's not like that."

        He wrenched his arm free.  He wasn't going to hit J. and he wasn't going to cry and he wasn't going to crawl back into the bed for that warm, muscular, naked body.  "We're supposed to be friends," he said, pulling on his boxers and jeans as quickly as he could without injuring himself.

        "We are friends."

        "You blow Sean, too?"  Where was his shirt?  "What are you doing, J.?  What are you thinking?  You're jealous because Scott made out with me?  Because I'm with Scott and Ritchie wants Scott and you're not getting any?"

        "Why do you want him?" J. asked.  "What's he got that I haven't?"

        "Where the fuck is my shirt?!"

        J. leaned across the bed, off the mattress, and grabbed his hand.  "Don't go."

        "Why not?"

        "If you go you'll never come back here again."

        "Damn right I won't."  He was shaking.  He was confused.

        "So stay."  J. pulled him closer.  "Stay with me."  J. kissed him.  Not like before, not hard and angry.  This kiss was like the way J. had touched him on the sofa last night.  J.'s tongue made love to his mouth and he couldn't say no.

        Ritchie had been sitting in his room in the armchair, looking out the window at the sky, not really seeing anything, trying not to think about anything.  He was trying to keep his mind clear, because when he started to think he kept trying to imagine leaving Five and he couldn't do it.  Which left him staying in the group while Scott took Abs to bed every night.

        Then the door opened and Scott was standing in front of him.  Scott was saying something, but his ears didn't work because Scott was stroking long fingers back through his hair and leaning in to kiss him.  Scott did kiss him, slow and very deep, and then Scott took him to bed.  In bed, Scott's long fingers were good for something else, and he'd never touched himself there, but Scott knew just where to go.  And then Scott's fingers were gone and Scott was entering him, pressing deep inside of him, and he was open and ready for that violation.

        When he awoke in the morning, he was alone.

        Abs kept his eyes closed.  He didn't know what to do now.  He'd spent the night in someone else's bed before, yeah, with girls.  Not a lot or anything, but it had happened when he got really lucky.  But those were girls.  This was a guy.  He was in a guy's bed.  He was in his best friend's bed.  His best friend he worked with every day.  He'd gotten off with his best friend and spent the night in his best friend's bed and now here it was, morning, and he didn't know what to do.

        He could just lie here with his eyes shut until he died.  He could get up and get dressed and pretend that nothing had happened.

        He didn't know what time it was, but he could feel the sun's warmth.  And he could feel J.'s warmth, J.'s strong masculine body against his, J.'s chest against his back, J.'s thighs against his, J.'s arm around his waist, J.'s cock against his ass.  J.'s cock against his ass.  J.'s cock was against his ass.

        He was being spooned.  J. was spooned up behind him.  He couldn't believe it.  He wasn't a girl, for fuck's sake.

        J.'s foot slid up his calf and J.'s thigh slid between his as J. shifted behind him.  If J. were waking up now, he had to think of some response.  Pretending to sleep forever was sounding better and better.  Unrealistic, maybe.  Might not work.  Better plan something else.  He could feign illness, or amnesia or something.  He could, um, shit-

        "Hey."

        He swallowed and opened his eyes, looked at the room door.  "Hey."  It wasn't far; if he moved fast, he could get out of the room and escape, even get to his room - - but the key was in his jeans pocket, and his jeans were on the floor.  On the floor on the other side of the bed, because they'd been on the bed when J. undressed him, and J. had tossed them overboard on that side.

        He'd been on the bed.  On his back, J. on top of him, J. kissing him deep and fast, his hand in J.'s light brown hair.  And J. had undressed him, piece by piece.  He'd been barefoot - - his socks and shoes were probably still in the lounge - - and J. had started with his shirt, still kissing him, pushing up his shirt, strong hands on his torso.  J.'s touch was different from Scott's.  With Scott, he'd known that Scott was trying to seduce him.  He hadn't really known why, and he still didn't know.  With J., it was like J. was possessing him, claiming him.  J. was jealous.  J. had pushed up his shirt, then broken the kiss and pulled his shirt off of him, tossed it towards the floor.  J.'s hands ran over him, pulling on his nipples, tracing his ribs, and the examination was so thorough that he started to wish that his abs were as tight as he'd tried to get them.  Then J.'s fingers were on his fly.  J. kissed his mouth again, and when J. moved back a bit he moved, too, rising toward J.'s kiss.  Then J. had pushed him down and pressed into him, kissing him harder, deeper, faster, and he surprised himself by keeping up with the punishment.  J. had broken away and sat back and unbuttoned his fly, unzipped it.  J.'s hand had been in his boxers, then, pulling on his cock, and J. had said, not a question, a statement, like giving him important information, "You're hard for me."

        And then...

        Abs closed his eyes again.  He didn't need to see the door.  He wasn't going anywhere.

        "Abs."

        "What?"

        "I gotta piss.  Don't go anywhere."

        "I'm dead asleep, mate.  Don't worry about it."

        "Good."  J. moved away from him, depriving him of warmth, and he heard the bedsprings creak, heard the floorboards squeak, heard the bathroom light go on, the door hinge as the door closed halfway, J. muttering in the bathroom, urine hitting porcelain.

        He'd had that in his mouth.

        Toilet flush, more muttering, light off, floor, bedsprings; and his source of warmth was back, and he rolled over with his eyes shut, and J. wrapped all around him.  Arms around him, legs twined through his, torso hard and warm against him.  "I know girls who don't snuggle like this," J. said.

        "You've been hooking up with the wrong kind, then."  Wait, no.  He'd been remembering the wrong moment.  He'd gotten up to leave, and he'd put his jeans on again.  And when he'd come back to bed, and stripped, then...  "Where are my pants?"

        "On the floor."

        "Fat lot of help you are."

        "Are you going to wake up soon?"

        "Maybe."

        "Do I have to shower and shave and brush my teeth before you'll kiss me?"

        "Mate, you never shave proper.  You already got my face all scratched up."  He remembered the slow burn of stubble against the sensitive insides of his thighs.  Usually he had to beg and plead and romance girls before they'd think of going down there, but J. had just...demanded it.  Gone for it.  No question, no hesitation.  No reluctance.  No fear.

        No fear.  That was J.

        "You got that hard-on for me or 'cause you gotta piss?"

        "You're hard for me."  "Guess."

        "You want me to get you off?"

        "Wouldn't complain."

        "Abs, you never complain about anything."

        "So why start now?"

        He felt gentle fingertips against his scalp as J.'s fingers ran back through his hair.  He didn't want to think about what his hair must look like now.  Mad hair.  Never could do a thing with it.  "Abidin, if you open your eyes I'll give you a blow job."

        He poked his fingers in J.'s chest, the most convenient place since his hands were up between their bodies.  "My name's Abs."

        "Your name's Richard."

        "We already got one of those around here."

        "I expect he wants to cut off your head."

        "I expect he wants to cut off my balls and my cock."

        "Then I'd better blow you while I still can."

        Well, that was a pretty good argument.  Might as well get his rocks off while he still had rocks to get off, after all.  He opened his eyes and looked at J.  "I didn't mean to hurt Ritchie."

        "You can hurt a good lot of people without meaning to."

        He curled his fingers away from J.'s chest.  "Better go pee first."

        "Abs-"

        He evaded J.'s grasp and rolled away, left the bed, went to the bathroom and shut the door.  Fuck it all, he was going to lock the door and stay in here forever.

        He heard a knock at the door.  At the room door.  "What do you want?" J.'s voice called.

        "Looking for Abs," Sean's voice said.  "Want to make sure he's in there with you and not run off to join the circus."

        "He's around here somewhere," J. said.

        "Right.  Thanks."

        Abs peed, then flushed and looked at himself in the mirror.  He looked like himself, like he looked every morning, with mad hair and needing a bit of a shave.  The only noticeable difference was maybe a little in the lips, kiss bruising, and that redness around his mouth from stubble chafing.  Maybe he could convince J. to shave before the next go-round.

        No.  No more.  He was going to stay in here forever.  No more kissing J.  No more kissing anybody.  Bathroom for life.

        He took a shower.  He used J.'s soap and things that were sitting on the edge of the tub.  Which was the more intimate, sucking someone's cock or using his shampoo?  Once he was clean and dry, he leaned against the door and fussed at his cuticles, wondering how to kill the next few days until death.  Or until they went back on tour.  Whichever came first.

        "I'm starved," J.'s voice said, "and if you're not giving me my protein supplement, I'm going down to the lounge.  You coming?"

        He opened the door and peered out with suspicion.  J. was dressed and standing by the room door.  "Can I get dressed first?"

        "Sean might appreciate it."

        So he pulled on his clothes.  His jeans were on the door side of the bed.  They went down to the lounge.  Ritchie was at the table, Sean on the sofa watching the television.  "Hey," J. said.

        "Morning," Sean said.

        "Where's Scott?" Abs asked.

        J. hooked a finger through one of Abs's beltloops in the front of Abs's pants and pulled him in close, looking down into his eyes.  "Is that really important right now?"

        "We're friends and we got off together.  You've never just made out for the sake of making out?"

        "Is that what we did?"

        "I don't know what you were doing," he said, meaning it, and pushed J. away from him.  "Sean, where's Scott?"

        "Don't know," Sean said.  "He shagged Ritchie and left."

        "He..."  Abs closed his mouth and tried again, turning to stare at the figure by the table.  "Ritchie?"

        "Last night," Ritchie said, not looking at him.

        "And he left?" J. asked.  "Bastard."

        "You never shagged someone and walked out?" Ritchie asked.

        "A girl you meet on the street and one of your best friends and bandmates is different," J. said.  "He left?"

        "Probably not permanently," Ritchie said.

        "Oh, that makes it all better," Sean said to the television.

        "What's Scott doing, making the rounds?" J. asked.

        "Are you okay?" Abs asked Ritchie, worried.

        "Which one of you told?" Ritchie asked, looking up now, all big blue eyes, looking very hurt and very, very angry.  "One of you told him."

        "Told him what?" Abs asked.

        "That I wanted him to shag me.  He didn't know before, and I didn't tell him."

        "That was me," J. said.  "I think.  I'm sorry, I didn't have the right.  I was pissed off about Abs."

        "Would you get over it?" Abs asked.  "Scott jerked me off first, you got me to sleep with you, you win."

        "Do you want him?"

        "What?"

        "Do you?"

        "That's none of your business," Abs told J., backing up some.

        "Are you going to go back to him?"

        "I wasn't with him!"

        "The fuck you weren't!"

        "All we did was jack each other!  He wanted me, I don't know why!  I don't have a clue what the hell any of you are doing!  It didn't mean anything!"

        "Did last night mean anything?" J. asked.  "Did it mean anything when I touched you?"

        "If I say no, I'm a slut."

        "You're a slut anyway," Ritchie said.

        "I am not!" Abs protested, shocked.

        Ritchie stood.  "Don't worry about it.  Scott came to me for what you wouldn't give him."

        "What are you talking about?" Abs asked.

        "He really shagged you," J. said to Ritchie with slow surprise.  "He really did it.  The whole deal."

        "He didn't," Abs said.  "He wouldn't."

        "Of course he would," J. said.

        "He did," Ritchie said.

        "And he left?" Abs asked.

        "He got what he wanted," J. said.  "Why stay?"

        "Scott's our friend," Abs said.  "You like him as much as I do.  Don't be a bastard."

        "He fucked Ritchie and he walked out," J. said.  "You're defending him?"

        "You've gotten off and left."

        "You were going to.  Last night.  You were going to get off and go, too.  Just like Scott."

        "I didn't fuck you!"

        "You're fucking me now," J. said, and left the room.

        Abs wanted to scream.  Instead he turned to Ritchie.  Looked into hurt, angry eyes.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that I was with Scott yesterday."

        "It's all right.  You're paying for it now," Ritchie said.

        He couldn't dispute that.  "We have to find Scott."

        "He'll be back," Ritchie said.  "We've got a show in a few days."

        Abs couldn't sit still and wonder, and the security people wouldn't let him leave, so he paced the hallways and stairwells.  Where was Scott?  Why had Scott fucked Ritchie?  Why had Scott gotten off with him?  Why was J. jealous?  Why had J. taken him to bed?  Why had J. kept him in bed?

        Scott...all big blue eyes, luring smiles, long fingers, giving him just the right words and just the right touch.  Scott had manipulated him.  Wanted him, gotten him.

        J....at first, angry, possessive, claiming.  J.'s every look and every touch said, "Mine, mine mine."

        And then he'd tried to leave, and J. had made him stay, and J.'s hands had been more gentle than he could imagine from his friend.  J.'s kisses had been loving, had made him so hot, made him so hard, made him so...  His mind had gone, leaving his body to fend for itself, and his body had fallen in love with J.  J. hadn't had an ulterior motive, hadn't been trying to prove anything, hadn't been...  He hadn't had to wonder what J. wanted from him or why, he'd only had to relax and go where J. led him.

        Which only made him all the more confused now.

        And he could remember the second time J had taken off his jeans.  He hadn't really felt them go at all; he'd been too busy making love to J.'s tongue in his mouth and letting his fingers melt against the sensation of J.'s naked body under his hands.  But he could remember J.'s hand coming inside his pants, inside his boxers, burrowing between his legs.  He'd made an aching sort of noise and pushed up into J.'s hand.  And J. had broken their kiss to say, "You're so hard for me," and it had made him shudder, J.'s voice, J.'s tone hushed with awe.

        And he could remember his response.  He could remember how he'd rubbed himself against J.'s palm and said, in this soft low tone that sounded like porn even to his own ears, "I'm always hard for you."

        Which, of course, wasn't true at all.  J. Brown had never made his cock react since they'd met.  But last night, it had sounded like gospel.  It had felt true.  He would've testified to it, written it down and signed his name, sworn it to his mum-

        -or maybe not.  He didn't need his mum knowing he was getting it on with Scott and J.

        Or neither of them.  Since J. was right pissed and Scott was gone.

        And he didn't know if he really wanted to get it on with them, anyway.  It had felt good, with Scott, making out, getting off, messing around with his friend.  But it had been temporary.  It hadn't been real.  It had been a way to escape his confusion.  His confusion over J.  Did he want J.?  Did he get hard for J.?  He never had before, not once until last night.  Last night.  The night he kissed his best friend.  The night after the night J. had lifted his face and said that he had the prettiest eyes.

        J. had said stuff last night, too.  Most of it had sounded like typical stuff that people always said when they were getting it on, stuff about how good it all felt, stuff about wanting him, stuff about how good he was.  But J. had seemed to mean it.  It hadn't sounded like cliches and bad movie lines.  It had sounded like it really did feel good, and J. really did want him, and he really was good.

        Abs sat in the middle of the stairwell, in the middle of the flight to the third floor, and wondered what would happen when Scott returned.  A door closed somewhere downstairs and he heard footsteps.  Scott.  "Hey, Abs, what're you doing sitting here?"

        "Scott."  He stood.  "Where've you been?"

        "Just out.  What's going on?"

        "Nothing."

        Scott nodded.  "You seen Ritchie?"

        "He's in his room last I saw."

        "Great."  And Scott climbed past him and went down the hallway.

        Nothing.  Nothing.  He seeemd to have developed an inability to reply accurately to direct questions.  "What's going on?"  "Do you want him?"  "Are you going to go back to him?"  "Did it mean anything when I touched you?"

        What's going on.  Pretty good question there.  Abs had no clue.

        Scott knocked on Ritchie's doorframe.  "Hey.  Can I come in?"

        "You have to ask now?" Ritchie asked, standing from the bed.

        Scott shed his jacket, tossing it towards the chair.  "You're in love with me.  Aren't you?"

        "Not much anymore."

        "Why didn't you tell me?"

        "What were you going to do about it?  Besides give me pity sex and leave?"

        "I don't do pity sex.  Someone did that to me once and I won't do it to anybody else."

        "I'm all sorry for you, Scott."

        "Don't be a bastard."

        "You're calling me a bastard!  You bloody fuck!"

        "I'm trying to apologize!"

        "You're doing a damned poor job of it!"

        "Look, just stop swearing, it's disturbing."

        "Stop pissing me off, then."

        "Stop it!  Look.  I'm sorry.  I didn't know you were in love with me.  I didn't know what to do."

        "So you thought you'd give me a-...have sex with me," Ritchie said, pointedly, "and then go off to think about it?"

        "You should have told me."

        "You wouldn't have taken Abs to bed if you'd known?" Ritchie snapped.

        "That's right.  I wouldn't have."

        Ritchie stared at him.  "What?"

        "Blonde at heart.  I wouldn't have done anything with Abs if you'd just told me.  I wouldn't have needed to, I would've been busy in your bed."

        "Because I put out?"

        "No, because you're my best friend and I love you and if you'd just asked me to be with you I would've."

        "If you're lying to me I'll kill you.  What were you doing with Abs?"

        "Thought I couldn't have you.  Sean's straight and J. scares me."

        "J. scares you?"

        "Don't tell him."

        "You know he's going to kick your butt for touching Abs."

        "He can't be that mad."

        "You have no idea.  He's going to commit some serious violence."

        "Can I hide out here, then?"

        "I could lock the door to keep him out."

        "Hide under the covers."

        "You really want me?" Ritchie asked.

        Scott brushed back Ritchie's soft, shaggy hair.  "You have no idea."  He kissed Ritchie, the straightest and whitest boy he'd ever met.  He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe it.  Just last night he'd gotten to make love here, with Ritchie, to Ritchie.  He'd gotten to touch Ritchie in ways he hadn't let himself dream, gotten to kiss Ritchie better than in any fantasy.  And that had given him the courage and hope to attempt something with Richie that he'd not considered attempting with Abs.  And Ritchie had let him, submitted, opened.  To him, for him.

        Abs ran sensitive fingertips over J.'s room number.  He'd come back later.  Give J. time to...well, to come back to reality and stop giving him philosophical responses to simple comments.  Not that J. was stupid, but J. wasn't really prone to being cryptic and deep.  Of course, Ritchie and Scott weren't acting like themselves lately, either.

        Was he?

        Oh, yeah, touching two new cocks in a few hours, that was really typical in his daily life.

        He could remember his hand closing around J.'s cock.  It had been big and warm, hard, throbbing against his palm, drooling over his fingers.  J. hadn't even had to ask.  He'd just leaned in and slid down a little and opened his mouth.

        Swallowed and everything, right on the first time.  Must be some prize for that.

        J. had swallowed, too.  Had it been J.'s first time?  He didn't think that J. had sucked cock before, but he didn't seem to know J. too well these days.  He'd never guessed that J. would go crazy jealous over, what, Scott touching him?  Him touching Scott?  J. not being invited?  If he'd known that he and Scott would start groping each other, they could have issued invitations, but he'd thought they were just going to play basketball.

        "What are you doing out here?"

        "Stop sneaking up on me!"

        "Stop standing outside of my room!"  J. unlocked the door.

        "Scott's back."

        "You saw him?"

        "Yeah."

        J. opened the door with more force than was necessary, then turned suddenly.  Abs stepped back, expecting to be struck or something, but J. took his face in one very careful hand and tipped his chin, looking at his mouth.  "He didn't kiss you?"

        Abs pulled away from J.'s scrutiny.  "Back off."

        J. walked into the room and slammed the door.  Hard.  In his face.

        Abs glared at the door.  "Bloody hell," he muttered, and shoved it open again.  J. turned, shirt dropping from surprised fingers.  Abs stopped short.  Wait, he'd seen J. half-naked before, it was nothing new, it wasn't supposed to make him forget where his brain was.

        He'd touched J there.  And there.  And there.  And there.  And put his tongue there, his lips there...

        He hooked his foot around and closed the door.  Reached back without looking, found the lock with his fingers.

        J. unbuttoned his jeans.

        Abs turned the lock, tugged his shirt off over his head, stepped forward to J.

        It was a good thing, Abs reflected minutes later, that he liked to wear loose pants.  Yesterday J.'d reached down the front of his pants, and today J. was groping down the back, inside his boxers, feeling up his ass.   Oh.  Hell.  "J.?"

        "It'll feel good."

        "How do you know?"

        "I've heard about it."

        "Don't put your finger up my..."  His eyes widened slowly.  "Oh," he said, weakly, wonderingly.  "J.?"

        J.'s other hand supported his weight.  "You want more?"

        "J., that feels good.  Do that again."

        "Abs," J. whispered, licking his ear, "if you get naked on my bed I'll give you two fingers."

        "Two?"

        "It'll feel good."

        "Okay."

        Two fingers were good.  Three were even better.  When J.'s cock pushed its way into Abs's body, Abs decided that nothing could feel better than this.  Then J. started to move, thrusting against his fireworks place, filling him and rocking him and pulling on his cock with one hand.  Abs didn't know where J. got the lubricant or where J. learned to do this or why it felt a million times better than expected, and he didn't care.  All he cared about was getting J. to do it again, soon.  And getting to do it to J.

        They had the most fun, that afternoon.  Kissing each other and rolling around the bed and teasing each other and just getting to know each other.  They were already best friends, why not learn each other as well as they could?  Abs found a secret place inside J.'s right hip, by the pelvic bone, and if he licked J. there just a little, J. got super-hard super-fast and whispered his name.  He'd never been too keen on being on the bottom; with girls he'd always liked to be on top of them, in control.  But with J. it didn't matter, top or bottom, left or right.  He was comfortable and he was happy.  He'd never really laughed in bed with someone before, but it was natural and easy with J.

        Then they left the room.  And ran into Scott in the hallway.

        "Where the fuck have you been?" J. asked.

        "Out," Scott said.

        "Out where?  Finding more people to shag?"

        "No."

        Sean came to his doorway, in case something went wrong.

        "Come on, I'm hungry," Abs told J.

        "Why'd you come back?" J. asked Scott.

        "He came back because he belongs here," Abs said.

        "He came back for Five," Ritchie said, coming from his room.  "And for me."

        "Can't he answer for himself?" J. asked.

        "You don't want me here?" Scott asked.  "You think you're going to sing my parts?"

        "Don't," Ritchie said.  "What are you two fighting over?  Abs?  Scott doesn't want him."

        "Good," Abs said.

        "Good?" Scott asked.

        "No offense," Abs said.

        "You got him, then?" Scott asked J.

        "Nobody got me," Abs said.  "I'm not a car or a plant or a gift or some girl.  I'm your friend and I'm your bandmate.  Got it?"

        "You two are together?" J. asked Scott and Ritchie.

        "Yeah," Scott said.  "Finally came to my senses.  One of you should have told me sooner."

        "Not our place," Sean said.

        "Give me a tip, then," J. said.  "What do I have to do to get Abs to stick to one thing?  He's with Scott, he's with me, he wants me, he doesn't want me, he's mine, he's not mine."

        "Did you fuck him?" Sean asked.

        "Yeah."

        "Is he gonna let you fuck him again?"

        "Are you?" J. asked Abs.

        "Not on your life, mate."

        Sean smiled.  "He's yours."

        "Hear that?" J. asked Abs.

        "Does that make you mine, then?" Abs asked.

        "I've always been yours.  You just didn't know it."  J. kissed him.

        "You've gotta get over this philosopher streak," Abs said.

        "I'll get over it if you tell me you'll stay with me."

        "Where am I going to go?"

        "Now, that's not good enough," Scott said.  "You've got to give him a better answer than that."

        "Whose side are you on?" Abs asked.

        "J.'s," Scott said.

        "I stuck up for you!" Abs protested.  "Where's your loyalty?"

        "You stuck up for me?" Scott asked.  "Abs, mate, you're an idiot."

        "What do you want me to say?" Abs asked J.

        "Tell me you're going to stay with me."

        "For how long?"

        "As long as you can."

        "I'll do you one better," Abs said.  "I'll stay with you as long as I love you.  And I'll love you forever.  All right?"  He gave a quick kiss and lick of J.'s mouth.  "Let's go get some food; I'm still starving."