Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12498388.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Jonas_Brothers, Disney_RPF, JONAS_RPF
  Relationship:
      Joe_Jonas/Nick_Jonas
  Character:
      Joe_Jonas, Nick_Jonas
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, Brother/Brother_Incest, Underage_Sex, First_Time
      Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-25 Words: 11617
****** All the Good Things Still to Come ******
by Nutkin
Summary
     The first time it happened, Joe was sixteen, Nick was thirteen, and
     they were three days shy of the first album dropping. "This is how
     everything changes," he thought. "This is how people get weird."
Notes
     This was written for novaberry, who wanted Nick/Joe set in the early
     days of the band.
     Much thanks to Edwardina for the beta!
The first time it happened, Joe was sixteen, Nick was thirteen, and they were
three days shy of the first album dropping.

Nick had been like a mirage that summer, a little different and a little more
interesting every time Joe turned around. Somewhere between Jersey and the
Pacific coast he started slip-sliding into a person that Joe didn't fully
recognize anymore. He was growing up, in body if not in soul, and around the
time Nick's voice started to crack a little when he hit those high notes –
well. Something changed. He started catching up with Joe, closing that last gap
between them, and Joe was fascinated.

It was Arizona, in a hotel room they had all to themselves. At sixteen, that
kind of freedom went to Joe's head. They were being a little loud, a little
rowdy, wrestling around like they had a thousand other times. Joe threw Nick
over his shoulder and spun him around, made him dizzy, and when he dumped him
on the floor Nick dragged Joe down with him. Joe rolled on top of him, his
hands on Nick's wrists while he huffed and laughed down in his face. Nick
cracked up, squirming to get away, and then something happened. Joe went left
and Nick went right, and suddenly there was no mistaking the hard jut of Nick's
dick pressing up through his jeans.

Joe's jaw dropped a little, and for a second there Nick just froze, stared at
him with the most scared expression Joe had ever seen on his face.

"Let me go," he said, voice panicky. "Let me go, Joe, I'm serious—"

But Joe didn't let him go. He shifted his weight, pressed down a little more,
and watched the way Nick's face went funny and tense.

You have to remember: at this point, the farthest Joe had ever got with a girl
was some fumbled kissing and a few pretend-accidental boob gropes. He was
curious about it. Not in a weird way or anything. Just enough to peel back that
first layer of normalcy and try to get a peek underneath. Just enough to push
it a little.

Nick swallowed and made a helpless, miserable noise in his throat, and Joe
whispered, "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay, Nicky."

It wasn't much, but it got Nick to go still beneath him.

"It happens to me, too," he said. He smiled a little and shrugged down at him.
"A lot."

"Really?" Nick looked a little suspicious, like he wasn't sure if this was the
set up for a joke at his expense.

"Sure," Joe said. He let go of Nick's wrists after another second, easing back
on his knees. "Do you ever – you know?"

He made a sloppy approximation of the universal j/o sign, and whatever blood
was late getting to Nick's cheeks suddenly arrived.

"No," he hissed, horrified, and tried to knock Joe off of him. Joe had at least
twenty pounds on him back then, so it didn't really work.

"Come on," Joe said skeptically. "You never—"

"No. Ugh," Nick said, throwing one of his arms up so he could hide his face in
the crook of his elbow. He paused then, shifting to peer cautiously at Joe. "Do
you?"

"Uh, yeah." Joe rolled off of him, starting to lose interest, but Nick didn't
seem so eager to escape anymore. He just stared as Joe leaned back against the
edge of the nearest bed and started unlacing his sneakers. "What?"

"I didn't know," Nick said, as if that made any sense. He sounded a little
offended about it, like Joe should have made a point of telling him.

"Well, y'know. I try to not do it in public... or when Mom's around." Joe
grinned at him, and Nick's lip pulled in a disgusted little twitch.

"But—" He eased up on his elbows, and Joe realized belatedly that Nick wasn't
going to let this one go, not until he'd grilled any and all relevant
information out of him. Joe tugged one of his sneakers off and chucked it in
the direction of the pointless little couch in the corner. "That's gross."

"It's fun," Joe corrected, picking at the knotted tangle of laces on his other
shoe. He glanced up at Nick after a second, and this was where things started
to get weird. Nick was just staring at him, eyes huge and dark. His pink little
mouth was parted around staccato breaths, and it hit Joe all at once: Nick was
getting turned on by this. Joe raised his eyebrows, and for the life of him
he'd never know what made him say this next part. "Want me to show you?"

It was supposed to be a joke, kind of, but Nick sat up so fast you'd think Joe
had just tugged a leash.

"Yeah."

It wasn't the reaction Joe was expecting, but Nick ducked his head a little and
smiled tentatively. Joe was pretty much wrapped around Nick's finger even then,
and he had yet to meet a challenge he could gracefully decline, so in the end
it was pretty easy to sniff, roll his shoulders, and say, "Okay."

They wound up on one of the beds, both stripped down to boxers. There was a
little geometric pattern on Nick's, and that's where Joe's gaze focused. His
skin was buzzing with adrenaline, and the vague, distant knowledge that this
probably wasn't a good idea.

Later, the handful of seconds he spared to sit there and think about it would
seem incredibly important. So much hung on them, stuff Joe couldn't even
comprehend back then. If he had really paused, thought about it, questioned
what he was doing and why he was doing it – well, who knows how differently
things would have ended up.

Nobody would ever accuse Joe of being the smart one, though. Instead he was
just excited, the rush of uncertainty melting into the hot shock of pleasure as
he palmed his cock. He hadn't been lying when he said it happened to him a lot;
he was hard in a minute, maybe less, and Nick sucked a breath in through his
teeth when Joe's boxers started to tent up.

Joe bit his lip, glanced over at Nick, and then tugged down the front of them.
He was acutely aware of Nick's gaze as he pulled them down his hips, letting
the waistband hook down under his balls. His was pretty fucking hard, and for a
second there they both just stared down at his cock, bobbing stiffly over his
stomach.

"Oh," Nick said, voice paper-thin.

It nettled something in Joe, made his pulse pick up. He got his hand around it
and gripped it down at the base, where the hair had started to get thick, and
gave himself a lazy pump. The reason Nick didn't know about any of this was
that Joe usually just did it in the shower, the only place any of them really
got any privacy. It was weird to lay there in the golden glow of the bedside
table and just look at it. Red, fat, a little wet at the tip. Dark between his
fingers and heavy with blood.

Nick just stared for a minute, and then seemed to realize he was falling
behind. He shifted around all at once, a flurry of awkward limbs as he lifted
his hips and yanked his own boxers down. His dick was thinner than Joe's,
smaller, but just as stiff.

"Like this," Joe said, forming a ring with his thumb and finger. He glanced
over at Nick, watching the way he studied Joe's hand and did his best to
imitate it. "Yeah, that's good, Nick. Just like that."

The thing was, Joe was always getting them into this kind of crap. He always
had the best and worst ideas, was the one who wanted to push the limits and do
fun, stupid stuff. It was Joe who taught Nick how to ride a bike, how to ride a
skateboard, how to keep eye contact with their parents when telling a lie.
Kevin was there for a lot of it, but he and Nick just had this thing. Nick was
his willing accomplice, his trusty sidekick. That's important to remember.

"Okay," Nick said after a minute, his furrowed gaze darting back and forth from
Joe's junk to his own.

Then – well, then Joe just went for it. He kept it slow, because this was
supposed to be instructional; just rolled his wrist, dragging that circle up
the length of it and twisting a little, rubbing right under the head. He
normally went a lot faster, too busy barreling towards the goal to think about
pacing himself, but this was pretty good too. A slow burn licked through his
limbs, settling low in his stomach.

Nick just watched at first, but Joe didn't even have to look over to know when
he started. His breaths went so sharp, so injured that Joe's skin flushed over
in sympathy.

"Oh," Nick breathed again.

It might have been the way Nick was staring at Joe's dick, or the sight of Nick
fisting his own, or maybe just the fact that his little whimper sounded like
the noises Joe's last girlfriend made when they kissed – Joe didn't know, but
his cock swelled up a little harder in his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut for
a second, thumb rubbing over the slit, and when he opened them again Nick was
mimicking that move.

"Good, huh?" Joe huffed at him, thumb slip-sliding there. Nick looked like he
was beyond words, chest hitching pathetically. He nodded after a second, curls
bouncing on his forehead. "Easy," Joe said. "Take it easy. Keep breathing,
okay?"

Nick just nodded again, face scrunched up with pleasure that looked a little
painful, like his nerves weren't quite ready for it.

"It's so. Good," he choked out. He turned his head, gaze meeting Joe's. His
mouth was wet, open, and his breaths hit Joe's cheek across the pillow. The
sudden swoop of heat in his stomach caught him off guard, made his hips jerk a
little. He couldn't bring himself to look away, not when it suddenly felt like
they were in this together, sharing a secret so big and important.

"Faster," he said after a second, blurting it after his hand already decided on
its own pace. "Do it – faster, c'mon. With me."

Nick's hand looked huge on his dick, long fingers overwhelming it. He was all
out of proportion that year, had yet to grow into his limbs, his nose, his
self-importance. His body still looked so different from Joe's, skinny and
pale, even though he'd filled out some in the last year. He looked breakable,
delicate like a girl. Joe's fist went tight around his dick.

"It's too—" Nick said, voice lost in a sudden, loud sigh, "—much."

Joe knew what he meant. He pulled his gaze back up to Nick's face, and Nick
knit his eyebrows together and looked at him, face raw and open. Just like
that, Joe blew his wad. It hit him like a punch, knocking the wind out of him
as he jerked himself through it, shooting over his stomach in thick spatters.
It caught in the mess of hair low on his belly and then just oozed, dribbling
down over his knuckles.

"Oh my God, Joe," Nick said, and by the time Joe could look over at him, Nick's
hand had gone still on his own dick. He was just staring at Joe's, eyes wide.
Joe's dick twitched in his fist, pulsed out another little wad that slid down
the head.

He blew out a deep breath, blinked up at the ceiling a couple of times. That
boneless feeling was starting to steal through him, but Nick was still just
laying there. He looked shocked, overwhelmed, and Joe rolled over, crowded
against his side.

"Here, lemme—" He knocked Nick's hand out of the way and wrapped his own around
his dick. Nick gasped, hand gripping uselessly at Joe's forearm. He was hot to
the touch, skin a little slick with sweat.

Joe had never even thought about this kind of thing before, never in a million
years, but in some ways it was kind of intuitive. He jerked Nick like he had
just jerked himself, and Nick knocked their faces together, breathing loudly up
against his cheek.

"Joe, Joe, wh—"

He could actually feel it when Nick came, the way his whole frame gave a
shudder, his fingers gripped Joe's arm and he whined, lost it all over Joe's
wrist. It was different than Joe's loads – thinner, runnier, less of it. He
lifted his hand and stared at it, equal parts grossed out and amazed.

"Joe," Nick said again. It was quieter this time, a little unsure.

That's how it all started. It wasn't even the technical part of what they had
just done, exactly; it was the way Nick looked at him, the way he said Joe's
name right then. In an instant, that quick, Joe suddenly felt important in a
way he never had before. He had just done something incredible, just made Nick
come, just showed him what the point of sex was. He had let him in on this big
grown-up secret, the only one Joe knew, and from that point on it was a secret
they shared. Joe, who had never done anything important in his life other than
be on MTV once, just made that happen.

"C'mere," he said. "C'mere, c'mere." Nick was limp and damp with sweat, so easy
for Joe to get his arms around and hang onto. He brushed Nick's hair off his
forehead and breathed hard against his temple while Nick shook and settled
down.

"Are you good?" he asked after a few minutes. Nick turned and looked at him,
gaze kind of blurry before it met Joe's. He smiled then, gave a breathless
little laugh and brought a hand up to scrub at his pink face.

"Yeah," he said.

That was the first time.

*

It took a while for it to happen again, and when it did it wasn't quite soon
enough to be a continuation of the same thought.

The next time was winter, that winter everything in their lives did a one-
eighty. The paint was still fresh on the house in LA, the ink still wet on the
contract with Hollywood Records. It was all the kid, I'm gonna make you a
star stuff Joe was a little too familiar with by then, but they were all
excited. They couldn't help it.

New house, new lives, and it was just another night in that calm before the
storm. Nick and Joe were alone in Nick's room, messing around with guitars and
working on new songs, riding high on the thrill of knowing that one day they
would be heard by a lot of people.

When it hit around eleven, maybe midnight, they were both stretched out on the
bed. Nick's eyelids were heavy, but Joe was wide awake and jittery, humming the
melody they had just worked out and messing with the hem of Nick's t-shirt.

"I really like Miley," Nick said out of nowhere. Joe let go of his shirt then,
propping up an elbow to look at him. It was right on the tip of his
tongue, Yeah, duh, but he bit it back.

"Yeah?" he said instead. Duh.

Nick nodded, still young enough to look a little embarrassed about it. "She –
she's really cool."

"So you liiike her?" Joe pressed.

"I mean." Nick looked like he was straining to find the words. "I guess so."

"Aw, my widdle Nicky's all grown up," he teased, jamming his fingers into
Nick's side. Nick blushed and squirmed away.

"Shut up," he said, like he wasn't the one who brought it up in the first
place.

"Just remember," Joe said importantly. He waggled his eyebrows at him. "No
glove, no love."

Nick's eyebrows knitted as he worked out what exactly that meant, and when it
hit him Joe could see it on his face all at once: confusion melting into shock
and then embarrassment.

"Shut up," he said again, shoving Joe with his shoulder. "Why are you so
gross?"

"Oh, come on," Joe said impatiently. He was seventeen then, and every day it
was getting easier and more entertaining to nettle Nick, push his buttons. "You
totally want to bone Hannah Montana, Nicholas."

"I do not!"

The purity rings were still a ways off at this point, but Nick was already on
the fast track to becoming a nun, and it was weird. When Joe was fourteen he
was humping anything that sat still long enough for him to get a good grip. It
didn't make any sense to him that Nick was still so uptight about this kind of
thing, when even Kevin found it in himself to fist-bump a good sex joke. Joe
really didn't like it when he didn't understand Nick; to his mind, then and
pretty much always, it was a given that they were supposed to be on the same
page.

Joe wet his lips and moved on instinct, throwing a leg over Nick and settling
on his hips. Nick tried to fight him a little, landing some half-hearted
punches on Joe's chest with fists too big and awkward to be very useful.

"You totally—" Joe grabbed Nick's hands and pressed them to the mattress,
"—want to bone—" he leaned forward, face close to Nick's, "Hannah Montana."

In Joe's defense, this was all just screwing around. He was teasing him,
testing the waters, seeing how far he could push before Nick would snap. It was
something he and Kevin never got sick of, the ensuing brawls a pretty decent
way to burn off energy.

But Joe and Nick weren't like Joe and Kevin. He didn't know the full extent of
what that meant quite yet. It was a fact that was only starting to take its
full shape, really make itself known, but the second he met Nick's gaze it hit
him like a mack truck.

"No." Nick narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, hair almost black against the
white pillowcase. "I don't."

It hit Joe's nerves all wrong. Settled on him like a wool sweater in August,
scratchy and hot. Nick was supposed to say, Maybe you want to bone Hannah
Montana, jerk-off, or Keep your fantasies to yourself, Joe. He would have even
accepted a lame bite me, but Nick's words and the expression on his face were
just too weird.

Nick opened his mouth a little, like he was thinking about saying something
else. Instead he just breathed out this hot sigh in Joe's face that smelled
like mint, and Joe could see the shine of spit on his funny, uneven teeth.

"Oh," he said, because that's all he could think of.

Later, Joe wouldn't be totally sure if he got hard first or Nick did, or if
maybe his dick had chubbed up in his boxers the minute he thought about Nick
laying the pipe to Miley. It didn't really matter, because what happened is
they shifted together just right and everything felt amazing.

Nick scrunched his face up and made a little noise, rocked against Joe like it
was a totally reasonable thing to do. It happened so fast that Joe couldn't
even process it. Just like that, he was grinding down on Nick's dick, Nick was
grinding up against him.

"Guh – jeez, Joe," Nick muttered. He fisted the front of Joe's t-shirt, fingers
crunching up the stenciled-on logo of some random, forgotten band, and Joe
moved faster, slumping down over Nick's chest to get some leverage.

They fell into a sloppy rhythm, rutting together in a way that was barely
enough. He could feel the tight, hot bulge of Nick's dick rubbing over his own,
and it didn't even matter that it was caught in his jeans at a funny angle. All
that mattered was that friction, the huffy little noises Nick was making when
they would drag just right, when their zippers caught together with a rough
metallic scrape.

"Yeah," Joe panted. "Yeah, yeah, Nick, come on."

Joe could already feel it building in his limbs, crashing around in his body as
he shoved a hand up under Nick's shirt and touched his stomach, palm skimming
over a nipple. He tugged at the soft hair in his armpit, watching, fascinated,
as Nick blushed harder and tipped his head back. The curve of his neck was
right there, pale and skinny, and for a second Joe wanted to bite it.

Nick came then, though. His hips lurched up hard and fast, ground helplessly
into Joe's. His whole body tightened and jerked, and Joe gripped his bare side
as he rode through it and creamed his jeans.

"Oh my God," Nick said, voice suddenly way too loud. His eyes were huge, and
for a second Joe thought maybe he was freaking out. But Nick was always a good
sport, had a real sense for what was fair, and after a second his hand shoved
between them and he was cupping Joe's dick through his pants.

"Yeah," Joe hissed, pressing into it. Nick's hand got a little steadier then,
more confident, and he awkwardly picked up the rhythm they had lost. Rubbed his
hot palm against the denim, back and forth, and Joe couldn't even make it
through a full minute of that before he stiffened, squeezed his hand against
Nick's ribs, and lost it.

"Huh," he said when he slid to the side. Nick wasn't shaking this time. He just
rolled over and looked at Joe.

"Yeah," Nick said. "Wow."

Joe touched his tongue to his upper lip, surprised to find it chapped. He
looked over at Nick, and they just stared at each other for a while.

"Don't tell Mom," he finally said.

Nick shook his head, and then let out a snort of laughter. It didn't stop, his
little huffs bleeding into even more, until he was having a full on attack of
giggles right there next to Joe while jizz dried in his jeans.

That was the second time.

*

And then a year or so passed, like they do. It wasn't a huge deal.

But something had happened, that much was undeniable. Whatever was building
that summer had solidified, taken shape, pressed this new version of Nick into
Joe's heart like a wax seal. Everything in their lives started to change after
that, and whatever it was that shifted between them got lost in the cracks,
unnoticed, unexamined.

Then one day it was spring, Nick was fifteen, and they were on their first
headlining tour.

It was some random afternoon, the two of them sitting in the lounge of the
studio bus. They had the whole place to themselves, an unheard of luxury in
their world. It was a little like having some actual privacy, since at this
point they were so used to sharing rooms and beds and everything else that
being alone together was practically the same as being alone. They had another
few hours before the bus was scheduled to stop and fuel up, before Kevin or
Frankie or some of the guys from the band wandered over. A game of Jenga was
going on the table between them, a CD playing on the sound system overhead.

Nick had the tense, serious look around his eyebrows that Joe had come to
associate with all competitive activities, even though they were just pulling
on little wooden blocks from a set that was missing at least three pieces. Nick
had been going at the same corner for about five minutes, prying it loose with
the patience and concentration of a heart surgeon.

Joe was distracted, restless, volleying his attention between inspecting his
hair for split ends and texting with Taylor Swift.

"Pwned!" Nick yelled out of nowhere, pumping his fist.

"You take board games way too seriously," Joe said, dropping his Blackberry and
resting his elbow on the table, chin on his hand. He studied the tower with one
eye shut, like he was scanning its structural integrity. "I think you might
have a problem."

"Maybe you don't take board games seriously enough," Nick returned, clearly
pleased with himself. Joe shifted his squinty gaze over to Nick and peered at
him like that until Nick laughed.

"Nope," Joe said, grabbing a block from the bottom and pulling carelessly. It
came out easily, not one wobble. He held it up, wriggled it back and forth in
Nick's face before throwing it on the rubble pile. "You definitely take them
too seriously."

"That's so not fair," Nick said in dismay. He tipped his head to the side and
studied the tower. "That was on the bottom. Why would you even do that? You
could've knocked the whole thing over. Don't you care about winning at all?"

Joe's phone made a happy little noise as he got another text, and he held up a
finger while he read it. Definitely not that one! I miss you SO MUCH, let's
talk soon. :) 

"Not... really," he said. Maybe it was because Joe still had that dismissive
finger up, but when he looked away from his phone Nick's expression had
flattened into irritation.

"Who are you texting?" he said, tone clipped. Joe shook his hair out of his
eyes.

"George Washington. I'm telling him he should get a Twitter, but he thinks it's
a passing fad. I'm like, who cares, bro, you need to snag @gdub before some
other ex-president gets to it." Nick rolled his eyes, not giving him an inch.
"It's Taylor. That stupidly hot, Grammy-nominated babe who wants to hit this,
back up, and hit it again." He waggled his eyebrows, and then added, "What's
your problem?"

"You're—" Nick let out this irritated little huff. "Why can't you just focus?
On anything?"

Joe leaned back in his chair and studied him for a minute.

This was right after everything started getting crazy for them. After Hannah
Montana, who it turned out Nick maybe did want to bone for a while there; after
the album went gold and they had recorded most of its follow-up; after filming
the movie and playing Times Square. Everything was coming together, and they
were still reeling from the shock of it all – the amazing feeling of hitting it
big and the stress and pressure of keeping it all afloat. Nobody knew how long
their luck was going to hold out, what was waiting around the corner. Anything
seemed possible.

But that changed a lot of things, things they hadn't counted on. The distance
between them and the real world was only getting wider. There wasn't any solid
ground anymore except the kind they found in each other. In another year it
would just be a facet of their lives they understood: they were all they had,
an isolated unit of three that no one else would ever quite get. At this point,
though, they were still wrestling with it, with each other. Trying to figure
out who and what they were in the wake of it all.

Nick had it the worst, crashing into all his teenage uncertainty and moodiness
with the cameras rolling and teen magazine reporters asking about his big
break-up. The more that random girls sobbed, I love you, Nick, and stopped to
stare on street corners, the more he was pulling inwards, reaching for Joe and
Kevin to steady himself.

It wasn't like Joe minded; he did the same thing sometimes. Knowing where he
stood with Nick was always the most important thing.

"I am focusing. I'm focusing on you and your mad Jenga skills. They're just so
overwhelming, man." He blew his hair out of his face and grinned. "It's like
staring into the sun. Can't... look... directly... at it."

He held up a hand and peered at him from around one side of it, and then the
other.

"Yeah, well," Nick said, too invested in sulking now that he had begun. "Maybe
next time I should just text you when I want to hang out. That sure gets your
attention."

It was something about the way he said it, lips mashing together as he looked
over at Joe's phone, that made the pieces fit together right in Joe's head.

"You're jealous," he said, words coming out the instant they occurred to him.
"Aren't you? Of Taylor."

Nick's face went pink. "I am not," he muttered.

"Oh my God, you totally are," Joe crowed. It was the funniest thing in the
universe, he was pretty sure. He was delighted. "You love me. You want
to marry me. Admit it."

"Oh, shut up," Nick said, but Joe could tell he wasn't actually mad.

At this point, Joe and Taylor weren't dating. For all intents and purposes she
really was just that hot girl, which is why this seemed as funny as it did. It
was arbitrary, victimless jealousy, nothing too weird. Nick was just playing a
card he always kept up his sleeve, prodding at the fact that he was the axis in
Joe's world. They both knew it, and it's not like it was being threatened, but
Joe had a bad habit of humoring every last one of Nick's whim and insecurities.

So he bounced his Blackberry in his hand for a second, then chucked it across
the room. It hit the wall with a crunch and clattered plastic shrapnel down the
hallway, and Nick jumped, blinked at him like he was crazy. Joe just smiled.

"You have my undivided attention, Nicholas. Let's do this thing." He clapped
his hands, pushed his sleeves up his arms. "Highway to the danger zone.
Ultimate Jenga. Loser has to make an embarrassing YouTube video. Well, more
embarrassing than usual, and that's a pret-ty high bar."

Nick shook his head and looked away, as though this wasn't exactly what he was
after. "Forget about it. You killed the mood. My Jenga boner is gone."

"Come on," Joe wheedled. "Just look at the majesty of this wooden tower. It's a
hard, mighty oak of Jenga, just waiting to be ravished."

Nick folded his arms and studied the ceiling, but the coy act lost some of its
oomph when he wrinkled his nose.

"Dude, gross. Why are you so weird?"

"Nuh-uh, no way. You don't to call me weird when you're being my jealous
girlfriend."

Nick seemed disinclined to give this any response at all.

"Nick," Joe said. He waved his hands after a second, flagging him down from
across the table. "It's your turn, man. These little wooden blocks aren't going
to move themselves, as cool as that would be. Nick? Nick. Nick."

The bus hit a bump in the road and the Jenga tower rattled a little, all the
blocks scooting over a half-inch. Joe got to his feet, stretching
exaggeratedly, and rounded the table until he was right behind Nick. He wasn't
moving, but Joe could see the tense lines of muscle under his shirt, the way
his jaw was flexing a little.

Joe bent down, draped his arms over Nick's shoulders. Leaned in until his mouth
was up against his ear.

"Nicky," he whispered, tapping his chest. "Hey, Nick."

"What."

Joe tilted his head, cheek rubbing against Nick's hair. It was still long then,
a little unruly, like he didn't have time for a haircut. Joe kept tapping his
finger against Nick's chest for a second, just to be irritating, and then
pointed at the game. "It's your move."

What happened next – well, it was funny how quickly things could get out of
hand with Nick. It happened fast, boom, boom, boom: Nick reached up and fisted
one hand in Joe's hair, twisted around in his seat, and kissed him.

Adrenaline hit his system before anything had time to register. There was no
way to escape, not with their arms tangled up like that. Nick had him pinned
there, all skinny muscle and self-righteousness, his lips catching and dragging
on Joe's in a clumsy, wet slide.

It snagged a distant sense-memory in him, Nick's face up against his and this
heat under his skin. His mouth opened automatically, giving over to some base
instinct when Nick's tongue darted out to touch his lip. It was slick, a little
messy, no rhyme or reason to the way Joe's tongue pushed back against Nick's.
His whole body went hot, caught up in a flare of arousal that was bone-deep.

"Uh," Nick said when they broke apart for air. His mouth was wet with spit
– Joe's spit – and his eyes looked a little glassy.

"Yeah," Joe said. They stared at each other for a second, faces nearly
touching. Joe couldn't tell if this was hilarious or terrifying, if it was
really happening or if maybe it was just Nick's retarded way of upping the
ante, trying to win a fight.

He nudged their mouths together again, light and careful. Nick kissed him back
in a hot little surge, hand tightening in Joe's hair and angling him in deeper.
It was surreal, scary, the feeling of Nick's tongue skidding into his mouth. He
moved it in a slow roll, wet and probing. It lingered at the corner of Joe's
mouth for a second, rubbing there gently.

When they broke off that time, Nick wouldn't stop. He kissed at Joe's bottom
lip, the dip under his nose, down the curve of his chin.

"Come on, c'mere," Joe whispered. He straightened, grabbing the front of Nick's
shirt, and yanked him along. Nick stumbled after him to the couch.

"Joe," he muttered, but Joe shifted his grip to Nick's shoulders and pulled him
into another kiss.

It was bizarre, how much Nick seemed to know what he was doing; he palmed
either side of Joe's face, holding him steady while he caught Joe's bottom lip
and sucked it. Joe couldn't decide if it was hot or irritating that Nick had
done this enough to be good at it. It pulled at every stupid, possessive urge
he never knew he had, made him grapple Nick down on the leather upholstery.

It was so fucking dirty. Nick slipped him tongue again, licked around in Joe's
mouth, rough little taste-buds catching on the inside of Joe's lips, his teeth,
his tongue. It was the dirtiest thing they'd done, pointless and hedonistic,
not even the excuse of getting off to hide behind. It just felt good, made him
feel so connected to Nick that he was dizzy, drunk from it.

"Fuck," he panted. He dug his fingers into Nick's curls, messing them up and
making them big. "I want—I wanna—"

There weren't really words for what he wanted, though. This was uncharted
territory, so far off the map that he didn't have the first clue where to go.

Nick licked his lip, chewed on it for a second. His hands were big and tense on
Joe's shoulders, flexing nervously before he looked down between them.

"Can I, uh. Touch it?"

Joe's eyes widened, a perverse, sweet thrill hitting him in the gut. It was
such a bad idea.

"Uh," he breathed. Nick was looking at him dead on, both defiant and hopeful.
"Sure, yeah, um. Okay."

Nick scrabbled with his belt, yanking so hard he almost popped the button off
Joe's fly. He dug his fingers into the fabric and tugged them down, just far
enough to expose the slit of Joe's boxers. He was already pretty hard, and the
warmth of Nick's hand on his thigh, the feeling of his knuckles in the hair on
his stomach – shit, yeah, it was making him harder.

"Are you—" Joe licked his lips, mind blown. This was happening too fast. Coming
up with dumb ideas was Joe's job; Nick was supposed to veto stuff this off-the-
charts crazy. "Are you sure?"

Nick paused, perked his eyebrows at him. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

It was so stupid. Nick liked to think he was all grown up, but he had just
thrown a freaking temper tantrum because Joe wasn't giving him enough
attention. This whole thing had spiraled out of that, and if Joe were a better
person, if he were smarter – if he hadn't planted the seeds of this catastrophe
years ago – he might know how to stop it.

"You're the serious one," he said lamely, tugging his cock out of his boxers.
Nick grinned a little bit, a quick flash of teeth before he wrapped his hand
around it. Their fingers overlapped for a second, and then Nick smoothed his
fist up the shaft.

Joe sucked in a breath, nerves jangling in a hot, frayed mess. It was so
different than his own hand. Unexpected, unfamiliar in a way he wasn't ready
for. He felt too exposed, raw and pinned down. And amazing.

Nick stared at his dick with open interest, the soft spot between his thumb and
finger catching right under the head. He twisted his hand a little, rubbing
there, before sliding back down. Joe couldn't even watch. It was too fucking
weird, the way the tip of it was poking up all red and swollen in Nick's hand,
throbbing treacherously at every little thing. He let his head fall back,
staring at the ceiling while Nick gave him a few clumsy, deliberate pumps.

"It's, uh. It's big," Nick noted. It was a fact, not a compliment, one of the
many things he seemed to be filing away. Joe shut his eyes, strung up tight by
the sound of Nick's voice. "Is that... good? Am I doing it right?"

When he finally looked at him, Nick was looking back. Joe recognized something
in his expression, the thoughtful tilt of his eyebrows and mouth, but it was
different – all hot eyed and intense. He nodded dumbly.

"Yeah. That's – it's good."

Nick glowed with pride, trying to mash down a little smile. He leaned in over
Joe's lap like he wanted to get a better look, touching at one of the veins
that poked up through the skin. He followed its path, his guitar-player callus
roughly dragging up, up, up. The slit was already wet, and he only hesitated a
second before brushing his thumb there.

"Wow," Joe said, losing the word in a hot huff of breath. Nick shut his eyes
and rubbed his palm around the curve of it. He wet his bottom lip, fingers
curling back into a fist, and then glanced up at Joe.

"Can I—" He broke off and gave a kind of nervous wriggle, weight shifting
around on the couch, on Joe. "I want to try something."

Joe was having a hard time thinking about anything beyond this, beyond Nick's
hand and fog of pleasure that had settling over his senses.

"'Kay."

Nick swallowed and edged in closer, and then his tongue hit the underside of
Joe's cock.

For a second there he couldn't even react; he just stared uselessly as Nick
licked over the tip, his thumb rubbing up the side.

"Wh – what are – Nick!" finally came barreling out of him, but Nick just shut
his eyes and opened his mouth around it, the cushy-wet insides of his lips
dragging in a messy, clumsy kiss. Joe's stomach pulled in sensitively, head
reeling with shock and horror and – good, how fucking good it felt. He was
supposed to do something, shove Nick away and then throw himself off the bus,
maybe, but instead he just sat there, frozen. Watched as Nick's mouth wrapped
clumsily around the head and gave it a little suck.

Nick didn't know what he was doing, not at all, but it wasn't like Joe had
anything to compare it to. He'd only ever imagined this kind of thing in the
most vague and abstract terms, the very idea of it way too dirty to reconcile
with any of the girls he'd dated. Every shift and stutter of tongue
felt awesome, and Joe's hands curled into fists at his sides, pressed dents in
the leather of the couch. By the time Nick steadied himself and took a little
more, bobbed a little deeper, Joe was already on the edge of losing it. He
gaped down at him, horrified and awestruck as Nick's pink cheeks hollowed on
the upstroke.

He was getting head from his little brother. His brain couldn't begin to
register what that meant. They were on a bus, the sun was up, the driver was
less than twenty feet away, and Nick was making these little slurping noises as
spit trickled past the corner of his mouth. Believe it or not, Joe had never
really thought about anything like this. He loved Nick, loved him like crazy,
but he never imagined they would screw around that way again. What happened
before was just kid stuff, no big deal.

This, this thing happening right here, was a big fucking deal.

Nick pulled back after a couple more goes, just far enough to pant harsh, damp
breaths all over Joe's dick. A thin little strand of spit connected his lips
with the shiny, pink head, and Joe's hand moved automatically, thumbing it off
Nick's lip like he'd tuck in his shirt tags.

Nick looked up at him then, and Joe had never seen anything like that
expression. Not on Nick, not on anyone.

"This is so—" he looked back down at Joe's dick, chest still heaving with
unsteady breaths, "—hot."

"Yeah," he whispered, the word eeking out of him before he could think about
it. Nick was on him again in a second, more confident now, hand curling around
the base in a tight squeeze as he rolled his tongue around the head. His breath
hitched up into a moan as he crammed a little more in his mouth, his other hand
scrabbling between them to – God, rub at his own dick, Joe realized.

It was too much – too intense, too slippery, too good – and Joe didn't even
think to say anything before he shot off right in Nick's mouth.

If Nick stumbled a little at that point, Joe had no fucking clue. Everything
went hazy; brilliant patterns of purple exploded behind his eyelids as his head
dropped back and his toes curled in his boots. His heart hammered like that for
almost a minute, body so strung up with tension that it kind of hurt.

When it started to fade, Nick straightened up a little. Pink-cheeked, messy-
haired, a smudge of come on his chin. A flush of red stretched all the way down
his neck and his chest was moving around heavy, uneven breaths. Joe just stared
at him, dumbfounded by the realization that he wanted this. He had been aching
for something like it for years now, not even aware of what it was.

He reached out and pulled at the front of Nick's shirt, limbs heavy, and Nick
looked down and away.

"I already, um," he said, and that's when Joe noticed the wet spot bleeding
through the front of his pants.

"From that?"

Nick was already so flushed that Joe couldn't tell if he was blushing, but he
let out a heavy little sigh and nodded.

"Yeah."

It was the hottest thing Joe had ever heard, sending a sludgy echo of arousal
through his limbs. He pulled him in for a kiss, a little cautious at first and
then deeper. Nick's mouth was salty and swollen, breaths huffing in soft,
steady puffs against Joe's cheek. They sat there like that on the couch for a
while, Nick's head finally resting on Joe's shoulder. Through the slats of
blinds on the window Joe could see the scenery zooming by, and he wondered
where they were. Where this whole thing happened.

"You owe me a new phone," he said eventually, when it felt like maybe the world
wasn't spinning so fast. Nick laughed and punched him unceremoniously in the
shoulder.

"You owe me a blowjob."

They both froze, those words hanging there between them, too huge and weird to
even begin dealing with.

That was the third time.

*

The funny thing was, they didn't really have the time to get freaked out about
it. Under normal circumstances they might have avoided each other, been a
little awkward. But they were at each other's elbows all day, every day,
surrounded by a crush of people who were all paying attention. There wasn't
time to schedule in any weirdness; they had to keep moving, keep working, keep
their eyes on the prize. By the time they had any real one-on-one time again,
it was too late to just casually bring that up.

So they didn't.

Even at eighteen Joe was young and dumb enough to believe that none of it
really counted, anyway. They were brothers. It was different. They were so
mixed up in each other, so closely connected, that it wasn't quite real. He
still believed in chastity, in saving it till it meant something, and that's
where Taylor came in. That's where Selena came in. This was just a thing, some
weird and awkward part of growing up.

There were several times it didn't happen, like when they were putting the
finishing touches on the album a few months later.

They were overworked and exhausted, camped out at the studio on the tail-end of
another work bender. Joe had been in a sound booth for so long that he was
forgetting what the outside world looked like, and they were both a little
loopy, a little punch-drunk and dumb. Kevin was working on some guitar tracks,
and normally Nick would have been right in there with him, overseeing any and
all aspects of production with the enthusiasm of a drill sergeant.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was boredom, but instead he wound up
in a little green room lounge with Joe.

"How long have we been up?" Joe asked idly.

"Uh." Nick scrunched his face up exaggeratedly as he thought about it.
"Twenty... two hours?"

They were sprawled out on a couch, Nick laying halfway on top of him. He was
warm and pliant, one leg slung over Joe's. His chin was resting on Joe's
shoulder, and from that angle Joe could see how his gaze kept clouding over and
then clearing again, like he was on the verge of sleeping with his eyes open.

"Don't fall asleep," he said, poking Nick in the side. "I'm not carrying you to
the car if you pass out here."

"Yeah, right," Nick said dismissively. He shifted over then, settling on top of
Joe and looking down at him with an amused, sleepy squint. "You totally would."

"Would not," Joe said. He totally would. Nick just smirked and leaned in,
pressed the side of his face against Joe's. The tip of his nose dragged gently
along Joe's cheek, and Joe slung his arms around him.

"Would too," Nick insisted. He shifted his weight to his elbows and tapped a
finger against Joe's chin, following the trail of stubble up to the shadowy
little moustache on his upper lip. Joe bobbed his head up and bit the tip of
Nick's finger, held it there in his teeth.

"Grr," he said, and Nick dissolved into giggles. He wriggled his finger, trying
to pull it away, but Joe wouldn't give.

"Ugh, gross," Nick said, but he was still laughing. "You don't know where
that's been."

Joe started laughing too, and Nick snatched his finger back, wiped it
exaggeratedly on Joe's shirt. They got quiet after that, though Nick's chest
kept rumbling with sporadic little chuckles. Joe's gaze shifted to a poster
hanging on the wall behind them. He was so tired that his head felt full of
cotton, cushioning his thoughts as they crashed around. He stared at the wall
for a while, totally losing track of time and space for a couple of blurry,
confused minutes.

When he finally blinked himself out of it and looked at Nick again, he realized
that Nick hadn't looked away. He was still watching him, the corners of his
mouth pulled up.

"What're you staring at?"

"You," Nick said simply.

It's hard to say why that hit Joe any particular way. They did this kind of
stuff all the time – hugging, touching, whatever. They did it the way other
people would give a high-five or pat on the back. It was their default setting,
too ingrained in them to get muddled by anything else that happened.

But it snagged in him like barbed wire, the sudden realization that it could
happen again. It was something they could do. If they wanted to.

Joe reached up and rubbed the edge of his hand against Nick's cheek.

"I love you," he said, suddenly a little scared. Nick's face softened in a
laugh.

"I love you too," he said. He seemed amused, a little exasperated, but he kept
looking at Joe and Joe kept looking back at him. It was weird. His chest felt
tight from all the feelings in it, the strangeness that welled up and left him
too full. Nick's hand was still on his shoulder, so he picked it up and pressed
his mouth to his knuckles.

Nick smiled and crooked his finger, rubbing at Joe's bottom lip. His expression
got a little hazy after a minute, clouding over into something pensive. It
looked like he was on the edge of saying something, and Joe waited for it, held
his breath, not sure what to hope for.

Nick swallowed and tilted his head, gaze meeting Joe's. It was there, he was
sure of it, this weird thing moving between them. All one of them had to do was
acknowledge it, and he was suddenly dizzy with panic that they would. Nick's
eyes narrowed a little, his breaths going funny and sharp.

And then he just smiled, letting the moment dissolve and drift away.

"I'm gonna go check on Kev," Nick finally said, patting Joe's cheek before he
got up.

So it didn't happen then. It didn't happen that time they were rolling around
on the floor of the Chicago Hilton, either, Joe trying to wrestle away Nick's
oh-so-precious homework packet while Nick kicked at him and laughed – and then
abruptly froze, paled, and jerked away for real. Joe pretended he didn't get
it, like he thought Nick stomped off to the bathroom because he was mad. Nick
returned the favor a couple of weeks after that when Joe was too restless and
wired to sleep, and somehow wound up palming his cock in the bed three feet
from Nick's. It was stupid, dangerous, and right when he was close to blowing
his load Nick made this unmistakably awake noise. He didn't say anything,
though, and didn't roll over. He just got really still and quiet and let Joe
finish.

Then it was May, the wrap party for the Disney Channel Games. It didn't happen
then, either, but something else did.

That whole weekend had been a whirlwind of activity, and the party was the
first time they had really been able to just screw around. No competitions, no
pressure. It was obvious Nick was having fun, riding high on the thrill of
winning. He laughed a lot, even danced some, and kept throwing his arm around
Selena, even though they were sill feeding the press the just-friends line.

It was ten or eleven when Joe realized that he hadn't seen him in a while. He
nudged Kevin and told him he would be back in a few, because that was protocol,
what Nick should have done.

As it turned out, they weren't too hard to find. Nick and Selena were huddled
on a couch in one of the rooms down the hallway. The door wasn't locked, and
when Joe walked in Selena was sitting on Nick's lap. Her hands were in Nick's
hair, and Nick was gripping her back, up under her shirt, like he might have
been going for her bra strap.

"Oh my God," Selena said when the door hit against the wall. She blushed and
laughed a little as she scrabbled off Nick's lap, looked around for her shoes.
Hopping on one foot to tug them back on, she gave Joe an apologetic but knowing
smile. "Um, wow, so this is pretty embarrassing."

Joe smiled back, but just stood there. It was so unfamiliar he wasn't sure what
else to do. If he had walked in on Kevin and Danielle making out, he would have
booked it out of there with a thumbs-up and a laugh. This felt different,
though; it was weird, like glimpsing some part of Nick he didn't even know
existed.

Nick smiled at Selena and she grinned happily, bit her lip.

"I'll see you back out there, 'kay?" she said. She pulled the corners of her
mouth down in an exaggerated, amused expression of embarrassment as she walked
past Joe. He could smell her perfume when she passed.

Nick just sat there on the couch, the front of his pants tented up in a way
that could have been his dick or just the way the fabric was pulling. He rubbed
idly at his chin and cheek, wiping away the glint of lip gloss that Joe could
see from the doorway.

"What the hell were you doing?" Joe finally said. Nick straightened his shirt.

"Uh, you want a play by play?" He shrugged and grinned, quirked his eyebrows at
him. For maybe the first time in his life, Joe didn't know what kind of footing
they were on. He felt disjointed, out of sync. Nick was apparently looking for
some normal brother bonding, a shared high-five and a chuckle. "What did it
look like?"

Joe wasn't on that page, and he didn't know why.

"What did it look like to me? Or what would it look like to anyone else who
could have walked in here?"

Nick laughed.

"You aren't seriously lecturing me about this." He stood up, and an expression
settled on his face that was way too old for him. "Don't worry, Joe, I'm not
going to break any rules. I still remember how to—" he made a sharp, snapping
approximation of the universal j/o sign, "—you know."

He walked away then, and Joe looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember how
to breathe.

*

When it finally happened again it was summertime, late in a muggy July. It had
been sneaking up on them for a while, creeping with a slow inevitability Joe
could feel at the back of his neck.

They were on a sold out tour; the new album was coming out, Camp Rock was a
hit, and MTV had just asked them to play the VMAs. Everything was bigger and
crazier than ever, and it was starting to catch up with them a little. Even
Kevin, whose boundless enthusiasm was usually a rallying point for the rest of
them, was starting to look a little worse for the wear. Nick was quieter than
usual, getting pensive and distant, and it was all made worse by the fact that
none of them could quite deal with playing "A Little Bit Longer" yet. There
hadn't been a single show so far without one of them bursting into tears, and
at that point Joe would have given just about anything to not have to think
about Nick's mortality for one goddamn day.

They were in Miami that night, and Joe was standing on the balcony of their
hotel room trying to explain all of this to Taylor. It wasn't really coming out
right, and she was getting that reproachful southern mama tone to her voice,
telling him to focus on the positive and count his blessings and blah blah
blah. Joe liked Taylor – really liked her, actually – but there were some
things no one, not even someone else in the business, could really understand.

Nick, for his part, made no secret of the fact he didn't like her at all. He
never said anything about it, but Joe saw the way he clenched his jaw and
flexed his shoulders whenever she came up. Six months later Joe would ask him
to write a song about her, and Nick would produce a bare-bones, acoustic
version of "Much Better" even bitchier than what ended up on the album.

That night, though, Nick just heaved an irritated sigh and slammed the bathroom
door shut when Joe answered his phone. He was sitting on one of the beds by the
time Joe came in from the balcony, staring off into space.

"Look alive, Nick J," Joe said, tossing his phone on the table. He snapped his
fingers a few times. "Anybody in there?"

Nick gave him a little smile, gaze pulling back into focus.

"How's Taylor?" he said carefully.

"She's super. She says hi."

"Hi, Taylor," Nick said dryly.

Joe rolled his sleeves down, the sweat on his skin freezing over in the sudden
blast of air conditioning.

"It would suck so bad for you if we got married," he said mildly. "Your best
man toast would be, like, four syllables. If that. Your head might actually
explode."

Nick furrowed his eyebrows. "You want to marry Taylor?"

"No, I'm just saying, like, you could be nicer about her. She's pretty cool."

Nick sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He got eerily quiet, twisting his
ring in an absent little back and forth motion. Joe spent a couple of minutes
screwing around with the buttons on his sleeves, trying to do them up one-
handed. He wasn't going to push the subject, not when they were both so worn
out. He thoughts were already drifting away, milling in the direction of the
night's show and how he'd screwed up some of the high notes, when Nick suddenly
spoke.

"Why am I so weird?"

"Uh, I've been trying to figure that out for years." Joe plopped down next to
him and slung an arm around his shoulder. "Maybe it's genetic."

Nick turned to look at him, face close. "I'm serious," he said. "I'm serious,
Joe. Why do I – why am I like this?"

He could have been talking about a lot of different things. There were a dozen
possibilities, ranging from the diabetes to the crying (it had been all Nick
that night) to his recent bouts of teen angst. But for whatever reason, Joe
knew. He got it, because sometimes he and Nick just worked like that.

"It's not that weird," he said, squeezing his shoulder. Nick looked down at the
nonexistent space between them and wet his lips. "I mean, if you're weird, I'm
weird."

Nick laughed. "That, uh." He glanced back up at him. "That's not exactly
comforting, man."

Joe was about to joke back, but Nick tilted his head a little and the light
caught on his face, made the hollows of his eyes and mouth and throat nothing
but shadow.

Something old and familiar stirred in his chest, and suddenly it was all too
much to laugh off. This was a thing, real and serious and right there between
them. It hadn't disappeared just because they tried really hard to ignore it.
If anything it had just gotten worse, because they weren't kids anymore. There
was no excuse. Somewhere in the last three years they stumbled over a very
important line, messed up something so fundamental that there was no taking it
back. And this, right here, was what they had become.

Nick swallowed, mouth ticking up at the side in a wistful little smile.

They'd been here before. Joe recognized it, everything suddenly all too clear.
This was their silent acknowledgement, a little window of opportunity that was
getting smaller and smaller. In another minute it would shut entirely, and they
would watch it happen and keep on going, pretend they hadn't seen it, and
pretend to be surprised when they found themselves throwing pebbles at it all
over again. Joe could see the endless months and years that would make up the
rest of this. Him and Nick, reaping what they sowed.

He touched his forehead against Nick's, and they swayed there like that for a
second, faces bumping together gently.

"Joe," Nick said quietly.

He wasn't the smart one. He was out of his depth, overwhelmed, exhausted. He
kissed Nick anyway.

It was slow at first, just a dry press of lips, just closing that last inch
between them. Joe kept his eyes open long enough to watch Nick's shut, and then
swept his tongue out against his bottom lip. It shouldn't have been that easy.
None of it should have been so easy, all the lines they'd drawn and redrawn and
then blurred into nothingness anyway. There should have been a lightning bolt
striking him down, the pit of Hell swallowing him up, something – but instead
there was just Nick's mouth opening under his, Nick making this quiet little
noise and tipping them both back on the bed.

It was so much worse, so much better than before. Nick was already hard against
his stomach, but Joe just ran his tongue along the bow of his lips, kissed the
tip of his nose. Took his time, let himself think about how much he wanted it.
His imagination had suddenly kicked into overdrive, all these ideas forming in
his head of stuff they could do. Stuff he could do to Nick. He wanted so much –
wanted to get his fingers all the places they hadn't been yet, wanted to smell
him and taste him and make him say all kinds of stupid stuff that was just for
Joe to hear.

Nick tipped his head back looked at him, breathing hard in his face.

"Can we do this?" he asked, hips pushing up against Joe's as the words left his
mouth. His voice was steady, simple, like it was any other question in the
world.

"We can do whatever we want."

He believed it right then, he really did, and that seemed good enough for Nick.
He smiled suddenly, giving Joe that big, toothy grin that was getting harder to
come by.

"Okay," he said. He looked happy, so happy that Joe had to kiss him again
because he couldn't deal with what that meant. His heart was hammering in his
chest, but it got easier after that. He pulled the ends of Nick's shirt free
from his pants and slid his hand up under them, palming his stomach. The wispy
line of hair under his belly-button tickled Joe's wrist, and he could feel Nick
pull in his next breath, muscles tensing under the skin.

Nick made a little noise in his throat when Joe slid down and thumbed his pants
open. He hunched up enough to watch him do it, staring and going a little
slack-jawed.

"Oh God," he said, collapsing back on the bed. "Oh God, Joe."

He grinned and bit Nick's hip, swiped his tongue there as he pulled down the
front of his boxers. His dick popped out, hard and ready, and nudged up against
his chin.

"Oh God," Nick huffed again.

"Dude, breathe," he laughed. "I haven't even done anything yet."

"You don't—" Nick wriggled a little and looked down at him again, watching as
Joe gripped his dick, "—even know – how long I've –"

He shook his head, flushing, and Joe's skin suddenly went hot. "Really? You.
What, you thought about this?"

"Yeah," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, I
think about – you know – you. A lot."

"Think about me... what?" he pressed. Nick made a strangled noise, seeming torn
between embarrassment and impatience.

"Sucking me," he finally hissed through his teeth, one hand coming up to
smother his face.

"Holy fuck," Joe blurted. Nick's cock gave this twitch right there in his hand,
and Joe was suddenly harder than he'd been in his life. He was in danger of
just busting through the denim of his jeans, it was that bad. "Oh my God.
That's."

Nick shifted his hand after a second and peered down at him between his
fingers. Joe's brain was too fucking fried for any more talking. He just jacked
him, giving him a couple of pumps before abruptly shoving Nick's dick in his
mouth.

It tasted salty, musky like cock, the shape of it hot and heavy on his tongue.
He was too overheated to really think about what he was doing, mouth just slip-
sliding down.

"Oh God," Nick said, voice choked. He rolled his hips helplessly, made the tip
of it catch in the pocket of Joe's cheek. "Yeah, oh, please—"

Joe pushed himself lower, tried to remember to breathe, but none of it really
mattered because Nick's cock was in his mouth. Nick's hands were in his hair,
and he was really doing this, lips skidding and slipping in a sloppy glide, up
and down.

"Oh my God – Joe—"

He popped off Nick's cock automatically, mouth feeling hollow as he gripped the
base and just sat there, panting, not wanting this to be over. Nick's hips
jerked uselessly, a frustrated little groan tearing out of him. It took a
second before he seemed to come back to himself, but he still looked wrecked –
cheeks all red and mouth wet, bitten.

"Do you still do it like I showed you?" Joe asked. Nick let out a shaky laugh
and shut his eyes.

"Uh... pretty much, yeah."

Joe let out a tense little breath. The shock of it, of the whole thing, kept
sneaking up on him in waves that grew, crashed, faded to the empty thrum of
excitement. Over and over. This was really happening. This was so crazy.

He jerked him again after a second, hand sliding all smooth and spitty, and
just like that Nick blew his load all over Joe's face. It came out in heavy
stutters, hitting his nose, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, before he could
even think about moving away. Or if he wanted to.

"Fuck," Nick hissed, and this was the most Joe had ever heard him cuss in one
go, the words spilling out like he couldn't keep them in. He hunched up with
the force of it, leaning up off the bed for a second before sprawling back
down.

For a minute there Joe just looked at him, watched as Nick tried to get his
composure. It was a lost cause, though; he was fucked out, totally spent. His
eyes widened when Joe climbed up next to him and made a thoughtful face,
tongued experimentally at the drippy streak of jizz next to his mouth.

"Huh," Joe said, giddy and stupid. He could smell it – smell and taste and feel
Nick all over him. "Fruity, with a hint of slime."

Nick looked totally dumbstruck, like he couldn't figure out if he was horrified
or turned on. He finally settled on embarrassed, and swiped his fingers at the
mess. Wiping it away, rubbing it in; Joe didn't know or care.

"God," Nick huffed, blushing harder. Joe grinned and kissed him, damp and
sticky and gross, and Nick leaned into it helplessly. His fingers fumbled down
between them, dug into the open V of Joe's fly.

Joe broke the kiss off when Nick got a grip on him and started jerking, body so
primed that there was no way he was going to last.

"Yeah, fuck, yeah," he panted. Nick just stared at him, gaze dragging around
Joe's face like he didn't want to miss anything. Joe tipped back against the
pillows, groaning when Nick rolled with him and pressed again his chest.

"I wanna see it," Nick whispered. "I wanna watch you."

He shifted his arm then, lengthened his strokes. They were quick, sure,
snapping, the shape of Nick's hand strangely familiar. For a minute there
nothing existed outside the sure, steady rhythm Nick was building, and then he
leaned in and sucked at the side of Joe's neck, bit at the soft spot right
under his ear, and Joe arched and came all over his arm.

"Nick – Nick, oh fuck," he panted.

It was huge, hit him like a freight train and wouldn't stop until he wasn't
even saying Nick's name anymore, he was just mouthing it around pathetic gasps
of air.

Afterwards, Nick rested his hand on Joe's stomach where the buttons of his
shirt were still done up. He pressed his lips against Joe's cheek, careful and
deliberate. For a second there nothing really happened, like they could both
feel things change. Whatever this was, whatever they were becoming, shifted
into place like a dislocated shoulder. It hurt a little, but that was nothing
compared to how it hurt before.

"Man," Joe said eventually. His hand was at Nick's shoulder, and he slid his
fingers along his collarbone, secret and hidden under the edge of his shirt. "I
can't believe the stuff I let you do to me."

Nick grinned and looked over at him.

"Don't freak out now," he said. He raised one eyebrow, cocky. "I've got a lot
of ideas."

Joe found himself grinning at the ceiling for no reason. A minute later he
wiped a streak of come off his cheek and rubbed it in Nick's hair, got tackled
and wrestled to the floor. There was some tickling that turned into biting that
turned into Nick sucking him off and then kissing him with a wet mouth of jizz,
and that turned into more tickling.

Those were the fourth and fifth times. After that, Joe stopped counting.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!