He liked how, when it was closed or in a pout, it was like a perfect, pale strawberry. But more often than not, his mouth was moving -- stringing along words as quickly as they could be thought. Which was comforting most of the time, because Howie himself was quiet and often needed someone else to occupy the silence-filled afternoons on the bus or lazy evenings spent in hotel rooms. But sometimes Nick wouldn't shut up, so even if Howie did have something to say, he wouldn't be able to. He thought that it would be nice if he could shut that beautiful mouth up with a kiss.

AJ kept a stash of tootsie pops for his off and on sweet tooth, and he would present one to Nick every so often if Nick got cranky or bored or loud. Nick would always be annoyed at first because the offering made him feel like a little kid, but eventually he'd be happily sucking and licking and no longer annoying the rest of them. Except Howie. Because Howie would be watching -- he'd watch Nick's mouth become stained bluish-purple or apple-red and wonder what it would be like for those stains to be smeared somewhere along his body. Half the time he would excuse himself and head off to the bathroom to take care of his persistent erection, especially if Nick happened to catch him staring, their eyes locking in one possibility-filled second. For the other half, he ignored the euphoric pain in his groin and forced his gaze down into a book or onto the TV.

But the defining moment had nothing to do with AJ's tootsie pops, or Nick's never-ending monologue. It had everything to do with the fact that Nick Carter didn't always sleep in his bunk, but rather frequently fell asleep in the lounge at the back of the bus.

It was on a long stretch of road that took days to cover, especially since stops needed to be made often to ensure that the boys could get enough fresh air and enough space away from each other, if only for brief amounts of time. Everyone was always tired, not sleep tired, but just tired enough to lay around all day, nap, and then stay up really late. Howie had tried to turn in early, only to stare for hours at the few poems by Neruda and Ezra Pound that he had taped to the top of his bunk. Petals on a wet, black bough. petals on a wet, black bough. petals on a wet, black bough. read over and over again. Finally he got up and went to the back of the bus to watch TV.

Nick was there, asleep and sprawled across the couch. Howie stopped dead center in the room and suddenly felt naked despite his boxers and undershirt. Nick's mouth was open just slightly, his jaw slack and tongue relaxed -- and Howie wanted to touch his lips. He looked behind him at the silent bunks and then back to Nick. No one would have to know.

Howie stepped forward silently and sat down on the couch. He was still for a few minutes to make sure that Nick hadn't woke up at his presence. Then carefully, carefully, he traced along Nick's upper lip with his index finger. Nick didn't move, didn't flinch -- he continued to breathe and sleep as Howie ran his finger along his bottom lip. After looking behind him once more, Howie pushed his finger inside Nick's mouth, touching the edges of his teeth, softly stroking his tongue. Howie prodded a little deeper, then felt Nick's mouth close around his finger. Nick was sucking his finger.

He held his breath, tried not to close his eyes. He wondered about the easiest way to dislodge his finger, but then the sucking stopped.

Nick opened his eyes. "Howie?"

Howie's cheeks flushed red while the color drained from the rest of his face. He said "I'm sorry" in a soft, low voice, then scurried back to his bunk. He thought he heard Nick say, "It's okay," but he was never completely sure.

Everything was as usual for the next few days, except for the fact that Nick knew something more about Howie and Howie thought Nick might be licking his lips more than usual.

And then one night, after a concert full of longing glances, Nick showed up at Howie's hotel room door.

Nick stood in the doorway, didn't say a word and merely bit his bottom lip. His eyes said everything for him -- they were wide and nervous, clear as a May sky, searching Howie's anticipation-laded, brown eyes. A smile finally broke across Howie's face, and Nick stepped forward and closed the door behind him.

"You know why I'm here?" Nick asked.

"I think so," Howie said, still smiling, although at the floor. When he looked up though, Nick was a darker shade of pink and he was smiling, looking off to the side.

"So, I'm..." Nick started. "I know you...," which had Howie listening, and not ready for the lips that were pressing against his own with a smooth urgency. He relaxed and Nick put his arms around Howie's neck.

Howie opened his mouth when Nick did, and Howie tasted the strong flavor of mint. Curiously strong in fact -- the smooth, nearly dissolved disc of mint slid off Nick's tongue and across the roof of Howie's mouth. It tasted like intent.

So soon enough, Howie's clothes had left a trail on the floor, along with some of Nick's, and he sat on the bed with Nick's hands on his waist and Nick's mouth rounding the curves of his stomach muscles. Nick hesitated taking Howie in his mouth, merely breathing on him first to check his reaction. Howie watched with the intensity that he had always watched Nick's mouth, only this time he was allowed, encouraged to moan as Nick's mouth found its target, sucked and licked.

His hands trembled at the sides of Nick's head, not quite understanding that he could tangle his fingers in the fringed strands of hair or even pull on them because that's how Nick liked it. He ended up gripping at Nick's biceps when he came, and stared up at the ceiling to keep the small tears that had welled up in his eyes from sliding down his face. When Howie looked back down, the tip of his penis still rested on Nick's his bottom lip, and slick white wetness fell from the corner of his mouth onto his chin.

Nick wiped his mouth and took off the rest of his clothes, placing light kisses on Howie's chest and face as he stepped out of each pant leg, after he pulled off his undershirt, as he let Howie slide his boxer shorts off and toss them in the corner where they'd be forgotten in the morning.

Howie didn't mind when Nick turned him over and pushed him onto his stomach, whispering "relax, I don't want to hurt you," because Nick's mouth was there, wet and hot along the edge of his ear. And as Nick moved his fingers around inside him, he didn't mind that it was a little clumsy and rough, because Nick's mouth was mapping the angles of his shoulderblades -- his tongue and teeth leaving sparks of pleasure on the spaces in between.

Nick's cock slid in easier than his fingers had, because with intent comes preparation. The bottle of neutral-smelling hand lotion Nick grabbed as he left his hotel room was the final detail in ensuring that the sex had that night would mean more and become more than a one-time thing. Howie shivered under him with each in-stroke -- it gave Nick a fuzzy ache in the pit of his stomach. Nick wanted, needed to hasten his pace, but he also wanted to hold back, to keep the rhythm slow and long, so he pulled them both into an upright, kneeling position, hoping that the change would give them time to feel everything, to be everything.

There would eventually be times when Howie would have Nick on his back, thrusting into him and making him squeeze his eyes tight, when Nick would purposely let his mouth hang loose so Howie had no choice but to silence his intensifying moans with a deep, audacious kiss. But this first time, as he held Howie around the waist and chest, Nick bit into Howie's shoulder as he came and felt the sharp sting of Howie's fingernails digging into his arm -- it would be remembered even when the marks were gone.

They woke up early the next morning, and Howie said "You should go, before the others are up," but Nick didn't want to leave.

"We should tell them first, and then we can share hotel rooms. That is, if you want to," Howie said, while Nick put on his pants and shirt, and cradled his boots as he went to the door.

"Yes, I want to." Nick said, looking at the doorhandle.

Howie got out of bed quickly, naked, to stop Nick in the doorway. "Wait," he said and pulled Nick back into the room to kiss him -- his mouth moving in a quiet, smacking communication. Then Nick stood in the doorway smiling, his heart feeling the same love that had just been imparted to his lips.

End.