What A Boy Wants
by Shine

The knock came just as Howie was taking his socks off, and it was enough to startle him off-balance.

"Fuck," he muttered, as he collapsed onto the bed, still holding his foot. "Coming," he yelled at the door, and yanked at the sock until it gave. Whoever it was didn't stop knocking. "Coming, coming, coming, hang on a sec," he pulled open the door and Nick lowered his fist.

"Hey," Nick said, and lapsed into silence.

Howie blinked and stepped back. "Hey," he said, and Nick drifted by him, thin and pale in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Two months ago he'd been an inch shorter. But Nick was growing like a sprout these days, and was already three inches taller. Howie stared at him for a second, wondering what the hell Nick was doing here, then remembered himself and quickly shut the door. He was only wearing boxers and one sock, and he didn't think the housekeepers were still around but there was no point in taking chances. "What's up?" he asked, and Nick shook his head.

"Bored," he said briefly, and dropped to sit on the floor in front of the television, leaning against the foot of the bed. "Brian's boring."

"Uh huh," Howie said dryly, and took off his other sock. Nick stretched forward and turned on the TV, and a German commercial for toothpaste came on. "Brian's boring?"

"Yeah. He's got a new girl," Nick said dismissively, and Howie got the picture. Brian had a knack for finding the one non-psychotic fan in the crowd, and then having two-week Grand Romances with them. During this time he made constant phone calls, sent sentimental cards, and talked incessantly about the wonders of Katrin, or Marie, or Stephanie, or Roberta. And, Howie had to admit, he could get a bit boring about it. But at least it was better than AJ, who had a knack for finding the fan in the crowd who was the most willing to fuck anything that moved, and then tried to kill him in his sleep.

"Well, at least he's happy," and sat down on the bed, looking down at Nick's head next to his knees. "Are you sleeping in here tonight?"

"If it's okay," Nick said, and Howie nodded. Only one bed, but it was a double. They'd manage. Of course Nick had come to him on the one night this week he got the single, but Howie didn't mind that much.

"I gotta take a shower," he said, and patted Nick on the shoulder as he stood up. "You want to go first?"

"Already did," Nick said, and he was being even more withdrawn than usual, Howie noticed, but Nick didn't seem upset. A bit tense, maybe, but he seemed okay. And his hair was wet. Howie shrugged.

"Okay," he said, and grabbed his shaving kit. "See you in a bit."

"See you," Nick said vaguely, and Howie shut the bathroom door behind him and turned on the water.

He didn't lock the door. It never occurred to him.

It wasn't until he was in the middle of soaping up that he realized that he wasn't alone. Someone was in the bathroom, the rustling audible even over the water, and Howie had a moment of apprehension before he realized that, logically, it had to be Nick. Probably brushing his teeth or something. Howie sighed and wished that Nick had mentioned he needed to do that *before* Howie was in the shower washing his ass, but that was Nick.

The rustling went on, and Howie stopped worrying about it, squeezing shampoo into his palm. He thought he heard the shower curtain rings rattle, but when he turned to look shampoo got in his eyes and he started swearing, ducking his head under the stream and letting the water rinse the suds away. The shampoo was long gone and the burning was almost finished when someone touched his shoulder.

Howie yelped and jumped, and almost cracked his head against the side of the shower when his foot slipped. He threw himself against the wall, whirling to face his unknown attacker, and saw a soaked and staring Nick looking back at him.

"Nick," Howie panted, and alarm was giving way to shock. "Nick, what the hell are you doing?"

Nick was naked. Howie was trying very hard not to look. "I." Nick paused, rubbing his hip with restless fingers, and water was dripping off his chin. "I wanted to."

Howie waited for him to keep going, but Nick seemed to have said his piece. "Wanted to what?" he asked eventually, and Nick, who apparently felt no similar urge to refrain from looking, raised his eyes to meet Howie's.

"Wanted to do this," he said simply, and took a step forward. Howie watched his hand stretch out, saw it pause just before it pressed against his stomach. It burned, hotter than the water, and Howie's muscles shivered.

"Nick," he said stupidly, and drew back, turning and fumbling desperately with the taps. The water shut off and Howie stumbled out of the tub, catching a breath at the cold bathroom air. Nick had left the door to the bedroom open.

Howie turned around, and Nick was there.

"Nick, we can't do this," Howie said, and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around himself, tucking the ends under firmly, and then handed another one to Nick, who simply held it at his side. "Nick, you're only sixteen, okay? I mean, this isn't right. This isn't--"

"But I want to," Nick said, and Howie winced at the hopefulness in his voice. "I'm not that young. And I want to, really. Please, Howie," he said, and again reached out to touch. Howie twisted away, heart pounding, and Nick froze.

"You don't want to?" Nick asked, and he sounded stunned. Howie shook his head.

"Nick," he said, softly, and Nick ducked his head. "Nick, I'm twenty-three. You're seven years younger than me. It's not *legal*, Nick," and Nick looked back up. His eyes were blazing, eloquent.

"I don't care. I want to."

"Nick, it's not that simple." Howie gestured in frustration, and glared at Nick, who was still stubbornly naked. "For god's sake, would you please put on the damn towel?" he said, and Nick flushed and wrapped it with quick, jerky motions.

"I'm not too young," Nick said doggedly, and Howie leaned against the wall and banged his head a couple of times. Now that Nick was safely covered, he could let his eyes wander, although he didn't dare let them wander too much. Nick had sharp eyes and would probably notice if Howie threw a boner in the middle of telling Nick to stay out of his bed.

"You are," he said, and Nick glared. For a kid, he was taking rejection remarkably well, which Howie approved of in a general sense, but right now he was really wishing Nick was the run-and hide type. It might make things easier.

"How am I too young?" Nick asked, and Howie couldn't help it; he started to laugh and couldn't stop. Because, okay, Nick was a pretty hot kid, and one day he was going to be an astoundingly attractive man, and Howie was ethical but he wasn't *dead* and he'd noticed the long lean line of Nick's back and his tight ass and flat, muscled stomach. And all of that was completely, utterly irrelevant, because Nick was *sixteen*, and Howie just wasn't going there. He wasn't.

"Nick," he started, and he wasn't sure what he was going to say so it was probably lucky that Nick stepped forward at that moment, and before Howie could register the fact that Nick was pressed against him he was trapped. Nick blinked down at him, and his blond hair was dark with water and looked soft, and then Nick was kissing him, with his sweet red mouth and his hands on Howie's shoulders and a tongue that was clumsy and eager and set him on fire.

"Nick," he managed, and Nick made a sharp sound and ignored him, kissed him harder, and god, he was a bad kisser, unpracticed and actually cutting Howie's lip with his teeth, and Howie didn't give a shit.

He let his hands fall to Nick's waist, just above the terrycloth of the towel, and Nick made an eager noise and pressed a little closer. Howie stroked the thin skin under his fingers, cool with evaporating water, felt Nick's little shivers and gasps, and gave up.

"Nick," he murmured, and ran his left hand up Nick's back. Nick arched, lean and gorgous, and threw his head back. His eyes were closed, Howie saw, and when Howie reversed direction and let his fingers drift out over cloth-covered skin, he whimpered high in his throat.

"You want this?" he asked, and Nick nodded blindly, pushing his ass into Howie's hand. "Are you sure?" and Howie traced the bottom hem of the towel, then slid slowly upwards two inches, resting on Nick's bare, damp thigh.

"God," Nick groaned, and nodded again, frantically. "Yeah, please," and Howie took a deep breath.

"Come on," he said, and let go of Nick. Nick shuddered and looked at him, dazed, and Howie felt something go hollow in his stomach at the heat and need in Nick's eyes. Young, okay, but how young were any of them, really? Nick wanted this, hadn't backed down, had fought for it and argued for it and Howie was just not strong enough to refuse.

Not when he wanted it as badly as Nick did.

"Come on," he said, and turned. If they were going to do this, it wasn't going to be in some cold, hard bathroom. There was a bed, and they were damn well going to use it. He dropped his towel as he walked, and heard Nick's stunned gasp. He had to grin, where Nick couldn't see him. It certainly did good things to his ego, and when he turned around and saw Nick walking towards him, naked and wet and nervous, his breath caught.

"Fuck, you're hot," he muttered, and Nick's sudden smile, relieved and happy, was like the sun coming out.

Howie held out his hand, and Nick climbed up onto the bed and scooted close like he'd never go anywhere else again. Howie leaned in and nuzzled his shoulder, and Nick groaned and flopped down on the bed, face down, and wriggled to get closer. Howie knelt by Nick's waist and stroked his back, tracing the lines of muscle from his shoulders to his waist.

"You okay?" he said quietly, and Nick nodded into the mattress.

"Just. A lot," he said, muffled, and Howie smiled. "I didn't think you'd say yes," he added, slightly more clear, and Howie grinned.

"Neither did I," he teased, and after a second Nick's shoulders trembled with soft laughter. "Come on, turn over," he coaxed, and Nick did.

Howie stared. He couldn't help it. Nick was pale and golden in the dim light from the bedside lamp, and his hair was drying to cornsilk-white. His eyes looked very blue, and he had lean, flat muscles no teenager should have, and there was a thin trail of dark blond hair below his navel, leading to his cock.

Howie traced the line of hair with his finger, and Nick made a hoarse sound. "Good?" he asked, and Nick nodded and arched a bit.

"More," he whispered, and Howie gave him exactly what he asked for, stroking Nick's stomach with the pads of his fingertips, slowly inching lower. By the time he'd reached the tender skin and the start of coarse hair, Nick was moaning softly, moving like ripples across a pond.

"More?" Howie asked, and Nick nodded.

Howie let his fingers stray into the thatch of hair, and Nick groaned. "You're beautiful," Howie told him, and Nick pushed his hips up. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he murmured, and stroked the base of Nick's cock with steady pressure. He circled the base with touch, careful not to brush the shaft, and Nick jerked, thrust slightly, and groped for Howie's hand.

"More," he demanded hoarsely, and Howie gave it to him.

It was a handjob, but the word wasn't adequate to describe how Nick panted and writhed beneath him, the way Nick's hand tightened on Howie's wrist as Howie leisurely jerked him off, the way Nick's other hand scrabbled at the sheets frantically when Howie teased him. Nick's legs were spread wide, a muscle in his thigh was twitching, and his cock was hard and flushed. He was sweaty and trembling, eyes wide open and staring directly at Howie, and when a single pearl of fluid oozed from the tip, Howie leaned forward and licked it off.

Nick choked and half-yelled, his hips went wild, and he came in Howie's mouth. Howie swallowed and licked up the overflow, making Nick twitch and groan. When he was done, Nick was limp, sweaty and chest heaving, eyes half-shut and legs akimbo and mouth curved in pleasure. He looked like he'd just been fucked, and he'd loved it.

Howie shuddered at the sight, and he couldn't wait any longer. His own cock felt like it was going to break off in his hand when he touched it, sending sparks to his brain that made him dizzy. Nick opened his eyes when Howie started to jack himself frantically, feeling heat creep up his spine and tension collect in his pelvis, and when Nick put out his hand and rubbed Howie's dick, the tension broke. Howie moaned and almost fell over onto Nick, his hand falling away to let Nick play with him as he came and came.

When it was over, Nick stared in bemusement at his sticky hand, then wiped it on the sheet. Howie laughed wearily, and unfolded himself from his kneel to lay down. His knees were killing him. He stretched out on his stomach beside Nick, and Nick turned over and draped a leg over his, one arm sliding over his shoulders to draw him closer.

"You okay?" Howie asked, and he wanted to ask a lot more than that--was it good? Did I traumatize you? Is Jane going to kill me?--but he didn't have the energy. Nick kissed his shoulder and snuggled closer. Howie felt sweat drying on his skin, and he knew that he was going to be freezing in about ten minutes when the flush of sex wore off and he was still without clothes or covers, but he didn't care. Right now, he couldn't even move.

"Mmmm. Yeah," Nick whispered back, and Howie turned towards him. Nick's eyes were closed, and he was smiling.

"Yeah?" Howie asked, and Nick nodded.

"Perfect," he told Howie, and in the next second was asleep.

Perfect.

Howie could live with that.

Fin