Stephanie Vaughan

Boys of Summer: Backstreet's Back

"Deej, c'mon. We're gonna be late."

"You go ahead without me. I'm not ready yet."

Joe leaned a forearm against the doorjamb, careful not to muss his
costume. He'd had to drive up to Hollywood to get the best
costumes and book months in advance, but it'd been worth it. Two
costumes from the Backstreet Boys video were his and DJ's for the
night. Not knock-offs - the real thing. DJ'd called him a dork, but
Joe didn't care. He'd had a thing for Nick Carter since … forever.
And just knowing these were the very same costumes that had
rested against bare Backstreet flesh … man.

"Well, how close are you? To being ready? Can I see?"

Nothing but silence greeted Joe from behind the locked bathroom
door.

"DJ?"

"What?"

"Can I see?"

"No."

Joe knew that tone. DJ was pouting. Not that he'd ever own up to
it. No, in his mind he was a principled man and, somehow in his
mind, he was sticking to them. His principles, that is. Joe still called
it pouting, though, and he knew DJ wouldn't budge once he'd dug
his heels in.

"Deej. C'mon, baby." Joe leaned into the door, nearly touching it
with his lips. He lowered his voice, got that 'you are so sexy and I
want you so much' tone in it that always drove DJ crazy. "You're my
very own Nick Carter for the night. Do you know how sexy that is?"

"How?"

Oh, okay. So that's how DJ wanted to play it. He wanted to be
courted. You'd think after nearly eight months together - as a
couple. The first three as just roommates didn't count, as far as Joe
was concerned - you'd think DJ would know how sexy Joe thought
he was. DJ didn't have Joe's outgoing personality, though, so maybe
a costume party at the Balboa Bay Club was stressing him out.

"Considering I had his poster up in my room, I owned every one of
their CDs, and I bribed my sister to take me to their concert by
washing her car every week for a year - it's a safe bet that I wasn't
going just for the music."

"Yeah, I know. You have the hots for Nick. Too bad you're stuck
with me. Maybe you should go by yourself. You know you won't be
alone for long."

DJ's voice was still muffled, but sounded to be closer to the door.
Joe imagined him leaning against the wall, hands stuffed under his
armpits like Joe had seen him do when he was at his most obstinate.

"I could. But I don't want to. You know I want you."

"Do you?"

What the hell? Where was the golden tongue when he needed it?
Joe had never had a problem being smooth when duty called, so
what was the hold up tonight?

Golden tongue.

Hey, now. There was an idea.

"You know I do. C'mon, Deej. Let me see that gorgeous hardbody all
wrapped up like the Mummy. I won't even make you do the dance
steps from the video."

DJ's snort came through the door, loud and clear. "Damn right you
won't. It's bad enough you made me sit through it, like, a hundred
times. I'm not doing Nick's mummy moves for your sick enjoyment."

Joe covered his mouth to stifle his laugh and got make up on his
hand. Crap! He'd forgotten he was wearing full face make up. He
was wearing Howie D's Vampire Lestat costume - how hot was that?

"Please? Not even if I beg? You know you like it when I beg."
Tapping on the door, Joe changed tactics. "How about if I blow you
in the parking lot? Don't tell me that doesn't get you hot, 'cause I
know better."

Cute little DJ Abbot - Jake Gyllenhall double and so innocent-looking
butter wouldn't melt in his mouth - got off on semi-public displays of
lewdness. They'd nearly been thrown out of Dodger Stadium and
they had been asked to leave the happiest place on earth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If you do the arms and the 'Am I sexual?' line, I'll throw in a
rim job when we get home."

"Yeah?"

All right. DJ was coming around. His man could be reasonable,
especially when Joe was bad enough to exploit the man's weak
spots. "Oh, yeah."

The bathroom door flew open so fast, the air rushing past Joe's ears
nearly caused a sonic boom. DJ stepped into the doorway, dressed
in full Mummy regalia, a shock of wheat blond hair sticking out the
top.

Blond?

What the-?

DJ had bleached his hair for the sake of the costume?

"C'mon, Joe. Let's go. I thought you said you were ready."

Joe stared, taking in the blond hair and blue eyes. Yup, he'd even
gotten blue contacts to cover his own pretty green eyes. But it was
the shit-eating grin that pushed Joe over the edge. "You little
fucker."

"What?" Grabbing Joe's hand, DJ breezed past him, heading for the
stairs.

"You played me. You totally played me, you obnoxious little shit."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." DJ took two steps down
the stairs, towing Joe in his wake, pausing to turn and look back up
at Joe. "Damn, but you look hot. Howie D. can take a hike. I
wouldn't even let him blow me - not with you around."

Joe frowned in mock disapproval that wasn't entirely mock. "Don't
talk that way about the boys. I thought I'd taught you better than
that."

"Oh, no. Don't think you can pull that 'you insulted one of the
Backstreet Boys and therefore I don't owe you that blow-job'
routine and get out of it. You promised and I've got it all on tape."

"You do not, you liar."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You'll just have to come with me and find out."

Joe glared.

DJ smiled, held out his arms mummy-style and sang. "Am I sexual?"

Who could resist DJ Abbott at his most charming? Not Joe, that was
for sure. "Yes, you're the only one."

So he'd slaughtered the lyrics. Nick would understand.

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