Kevin wasn't being cooperative, as Brian figured he wouldn't be. But after watching Kevin lounge around the bus wearing only a pair of shorts, it wouldn't hurt to at least *try.* Sometime just before dusk, Brian swung a leg over Kevin's thigh as they sat on the couch watching TV. Kevin let him get as far as kissing up his neck and twirling fingers in his hair, then pushed him away, telling him that he should call Leighanne again. The next morning, most of Kevin's stuff was packed up. And when they stopped, Kevin hauled it all over to the other bus, then ceremoniously dragged Howie and his belongings back as replacement.

Brian had found out, years ago, that Nick wouldn't give in either, and that AJ wasn't game for anything more than a brief make out session. Howie had always been strangely unavailable to receive Brian's advances, except for that one night at a club where they got just drunk enough to blow each other in the bathroom. Brian thought that Kevin probably knew about that, which was why he was now watching Howie unpack and arrange his things -- the purple teddy bear placed by his pillow, the laptop computer in the kitchen, the guitar in the back lounge.

They didn't talk that much that afternoon, as Howie spent most of the time catching up on email in between phone calls to his mother and his sister. And when they made pit-stops, Howie would go play around with AJ and Nick, while Kevin sat in the shade and talked to Kristin on his cellphone. All Brian could do was bounce his basketball against the side wall of whatever gas station they stopped at and think about Howie's shirt. How he looked really wonderful in it -- how the fabric clinged to Howie's chest just enough so that Brian could see his nipples.

In the evening, Howie retired to his bunk early, shortly after it got dark. As Howie yawned, stood up from his computer, and said goodnight, Brian couldn't think of anything to say to make Howie stay up and watch TV with him. He'd have to resort of plan B: keep the TV up loud and make some of the chicken wings he knew Howie liked.

Sure enough, Howie walked into the lounge a few hours later, rubbing his eyes. "You still up?" he said.

"Hey Howie," Brian said. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You don't have to be sorry if those are chicken wings I smell," Howie said. He sat down and picked up the plate of spicy sweet chicken wings, only idly glancing at the basketball game Brian was watching.

"You know," Howie said, licking his fingers. "If I had known you had these, I would have switched with Kevin a lot sooner." He took another bite before saying, "What was that about, anyway?

"I, um. I think I was getting on his nerves," he said, and tried not to stare at Howie's mouth.

"That's his loss," Howie said, and ate another chicken wing.

Brian turned off the TV and sighed. He acted like he was reaching for a piece of chicken, but instead grabbed Howie's hand just before he licked his fingers again. Brian licked them for him -- sucking each one clean as Howie watched and didn't move.

Brian took the plate from Howie and set it on the table. Howie stayed still as Brian sucked on his ear.

"Brian? Um..." Howie said. Brian kissed his cheek, his lips. "What are you doing?"

"I'm kissing you," Brian said, and did just that. "Is that okay?"

"I guess so," Howie said. He kissed Brian back. "But what about Lei--"

"Don't worry about that," Brian said.

He took over Howie's mouth from there -- his tongue sliding along teeth, along the soft smoothness of Howie's palate. Howie's tongue tangled with his own -- like a struggle, like a dance.

"Will you suck me? Please?" Brian said, somehow, between kisses. "I'll do anything."

Howie pushed him back onto the couch and his legs spread easily for Howie to nestle between them.

****

In the morning, Brian found out that Howie made coffee a lot better than Kevin did. Especially since Kevin never let Brian kiss him as they waited for the coffee to drizzle into the pot. In fact, Brian wished that there was an espresso machine on this bus like there was on the other so that Howie could make them both his usual cappuccino.

The concert that night went well, as it usually did, and Brian was relieved hat none of the other guys assumed that something had transpired between he and Howie the night before. Even though something had. He bumped into Howie once, in the quick-change room -- Brian blushed, and they both tried not to giggle. And then, sometime during "Show Me the Meaning," Brian's chest ached when he glanced over to see Howie singing his heart out into the arena.

In the elevator on the way to their rooms, everybody kept their distance from Nick, who didn't shower before they left the arena. Brian hid behind Howie and pressed close to his back. "It's bad enough that you had to sweat on me during the concert, Nick," Howie said. "You could have at least done us a favor and showered."

"I wanted to wait and take a long bath in my own room," Nick said. "Is that so wrong?"

"It is if you stink," AJ said. "I guess that means you're not coming to the club with us tonight."

"You got that right," Nick said.

"The rest of you are still coming?" AJ said.

"No," Brian said, as Howie and Kevin said "Yes."

"Party Pooper, as always," AJ said.

The elevator dinged, and as they exited, Nick and his smelly self chased Kevin and AJ down the hallway on the right. Howie's and Brian's rooms were off to the left.

Howie stopped at his door, and Brian walked halfway down the hall to his room, looking back every few steps. Howie paused to take his keycard out, and Brian looked at his own door, the brass numbers revealing nothing about what he should do. He looked back as Howie stepped through the doorway.

"Howie?" Brian said, although he was almost sure he hadn't said it loud enough.

But Howie heard him, and stepped back out of the door. "Yeah?"

"Um..." Brian couldn't think of anything more to say, and couldn't get his eyes to look anywhere but the blasé hotel carpeting. He only looked up when a pair of brown shoes came into his view.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Howie said. But he kissed Brian anyway and held his hand as they walked back to his room.

While Howie dug around in his bag for his cell phone to call AJ and say that he, too, wasn't going out tonight, Brian pulled off his shoes and socks and got comfortable on the bed. He ran his hand over his stomach and thought about Howie being inside of him.

When Howie got off the phone, he sat down on the bed and pulled Brian's legs into his lap. "I'm going to say this now; we shouldn't be doing this," Howie said. "And we shouldn't have done anything last night."

"But you're still here," Brian said. He smiled and bounced his legs.

"I don't want to think about it anymore," Howie said.

"That can be taken care of," Brian said.

And then he was on top of Howie, slipping his hands underneath his shirt -- hot fingers tracing along vertebrae, sliding around to nipples and the curve of pectoral muscles.

It was better than Brian had remembered it. Howie spooned behind him, his mouth pressed into his ear, his arms secure against his chest. He ached everywhere he was connected to Howie, not just in the place where Howie became a part of him. That ache was spread across the minutes like the orange marmalade on his morning toast -- except this sweetness spilled over the edges, dissolved into his skin, and absorbed the moans coming from both their mouths.

Howie pushed Brian onto his stomach when pressure from all the pulse and throb threatened to make their eyeballs pop and their ears bleed. Then Brian had contact and teeth nipping at the back of his neck and hands pressing his biceps into the bed. Howie had leverage and speed and white heat to drive into. And they both had a breathy, satisfied mouth to sigh into before they curled around each other and fell asleep.

There was more. More was when Howie rolled over into Brian and woke them both up. Howie mumbled something and Brian kissed his forehead -- he could see the shine of Howie's eyes breaking up the darkness.

Howie wrapped his legs around Brian's waist. "I know what you're thinking," he said.

"And we should, again," Brian said. "Because who knows when we'll get another chance to."

Howie lifted his hips, a simple way of saying 'Yes.'

Brian was greedy with Howie's mouth again -- sucking on his tongue until his jaw hurt and biting down on Howie's lower lip. Howie squeaked a lot and kept his eyes closed most of the time, probably to block out that sense so the rest could heighten in its absence.

Maybe this was what it was like to have enough -- Howie's hair losing it's curl between Brian's fingers as he rocked into and against Howie, penetration now a metaphor for what he had needed -- to fill and be filled.

****

Brian woke up late but smiling the next morning, and pulled on his pants quickly to the sound of Howie's electric razor buzzing away in the bathroom. He hurried to his room to shower, and was the last one ushered out of the hotel by their bodyguards.

His smile deteriorated, however, when he bounded up the steps of the bus and found Kevin sitting in the lounge.

"Kevin?" Brian said. "What happened?"

Kevin just shook his head.

Brian dropped his bags and left, running for the other bus. He found Howie sitting at the table of the little kitchenette, reading the paper and having cappuccino while Nick and AJ munched down on cereal.

"Oh shit," AJ said, and Howie peeked out from behind the paper at Brian's wild, confused eyes.

"Brian, we shouldn't have--" Howie said.

"Five minutes," Brian said calmly, despite his quick breaths.

Howie bit his lip for a moment, then stood up. He motioned with his hand for Nick and AJ to leave.

"But we're eating, man," Nick said with a mouthful of Cheerios.

"Off the fucking bus," Howie said, his hand still motioning, his voice loud but not angry.

Nick and AJ picked up their bowls and left, AJ smacking Nick on the arm before he could say anything else.

As soon as they were out of view, Brian stepped forward and latched on to Howie's mouth, pushing him back towards the bathroom. He had Howie's shirt off by the time they were inside, sliding his tongue around one of Howie's nipples as he locked the door.

Brian pulled off his shirt and dropped to his knees, quickly unzipping Howie's pants and yanking them down to his ankles. If the clock was ticking, he at least wanted most of it for the important parts. He pumped Howie's cock a few times then slid it into his mouth. Howie's fingers threaded through his hair and rested on his neck. Brian sucked deep and long, and made himself out of breath before he pulled back and flicked his tongue along the sides. Howie swayed forward and back a little, his hips inspired by the music of moan and suck.

Howie tugged the hair at the nape of Brian's neck when he came, something he apparently did every time he got head. Brian thought that he would miss that.

Brian stood up, slid his shorts down, and backed Howie against the wall, kissed him. He was almost there. A few moments of friction were all he would need. He kissed down Howie's neck and felt that he was already losing himself.

Howie held him tightly, mumbling "I'm sorry" into his neck as Brian thrusted against his stomach.

Brian came with a large sob, warm and shuddery all over between their chests. He wiped at his eyes as he pulled away, and grabbed a towel to clean up.

They put their clothes back on quietly, but before Howie reached for the door, they kissed again, Brian making sure he remembered what Howie's lips felt like against his own.

"I can still taste you," Brian said, as they broke apart.

"I know, and I hope that's enough," Howie said.

Back on the other bus, Brian couldn't look at Kevin as he passed him, even though he knew Kevin would be avoiding eye contact, too. He laid down in his bunk, ran his tongue around the still-tangy inside of his mouth, and pulled out his cellphone to call his wife.

End.