Justin? Nick looked at the pictures sent to his e-mail. He checked back to see who thought he would find them interesting and saw it was Justin himself. Fucking egomaniac. He pulled them up one at a time and studied the man. He flipped through quickly the first time and then carefully saved them. He lay down on the sofa and crossed his long legs, flipping through the pictures mentally. Who was that guy? Certainly not the Justin Timberlake he knew and hated. That Justin was Sweet Valley High's football captain to Britney's head cheerleader. He talked about his momma and meditating and God and how he just loved music. That Justin was so sweet your lips puckered at the thought. You ended up with the same feeling you had after all the cake and ice cream at the birthday parties when you were a kid. You wanted to throw up and get it out of your system. This Justin, this Justin was a bad-ass someone said, one of those babes that wrote to the yahoo lists. Bad-ass, oh yeah. This was the Justin he'd like to meet, just not in a dark alley or in some dive of a bar. This Justin was white trash, still talking about God and his momma but fuck the meditation and the music. This Justin would throw you on the floor and screw your brains out. This Justin lived in central Florida, only in a tar paper shack, not some fancy gated community where the houses started at half a million. This Justin thought his Harley was more valuable than any woman, or man for that matter. Nick felt the uncomfortable bulge growing in his shorts, pressing against his jeans, as he thought about the bad-ass Justin. Shit, is that why the prick sent him the pictures? He had probably seen about a million fucking photos of the new Pop King and the only reaction before this had been the urge to rip them into tiny pieces. So what the hell was this? He opened his jeans and boxers, freeing his dick. He began stroking, trying to bring up the image of his current girlfriend, but instead the pic of Justin with just a towel kept pushing her out of the way. He pulled harder, and touched his nipples as he focused on Justin's, hard from the chilly air. It took just a few minutes and he exploded in an orgasm that rocked him, that blew way past anything what's- her- name provided. He lay there shaking, wondering what the hell had just happened. Did that guy exist or did the bad-ass prince turn back into the musical frog once the camera stopped clicking? He cleaned himself up and dressed and went back to the computer, staring at it, looking for an answer. He went into the saved mail and clicked reply. "Who the hell is that guy?" he typed and hit send before he could change his mind. For the next two hours, he paced, stopping every few minutes to see if he had any new mail. Finally when the damned mailbox remained flagless, he stomped upstairs and showered, cleansing the sticky mess off him, trying to wash Justin Timberlake out of his head with the same expensive soap. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and stared into the mirror. His reflection stared back, wet lips, half-closed eyes, the sexy look that seemed predatory, a match for the new Justin. Downstairs, he checked again and was stunned to see the message "You've Got Mail". He hit the icon and scanned his mail. How the hell did they deliver six ads and junk announcements in the time it took him to shower and dress? But then he saw it, Justin's address, and he double-clicked. "If you want to know, meet me at my house at 8PM." Nick remembered to breathe again. Shit, where did that asshole live? He had been there a couple of times for parties but he never drove and he was pretty damn sure that it wasn't in the phone book. So he spent the next hour finding out without appearing to be interested in the information. Then he resumed pacing. Why was he anxious and nervous? This was Justin for God's sake. He probably had reverted to the sweet punk he had always known and he would blow in and out without wasting much time in between. He spent more time getting ready for this than he had on any date in the last year.  He chose and discarded at least eight outfits, finally selecting one that accentuated all of his good points.  He gelled his hair and then played with it until he got it perfect.  The flavor of the month had never seen him look so good. He needed to get calm, center himself.  Geez, now he was beginning to sound like the little goober himself.  Just go already.  Keys, car, keys in lock, start engine.  He shut it off again and took a deep breath.  What the hell was this about?  He had never been nervous around Justin before.  If anything, he looked down from his experience with a disdain that usually pissed Justin off.  Carter, fucking get a grip. He finally slowed his breathing by convincing himself that Justin would probably be back in form, baby blue sweater and blond princess in tow.  Then he would have the upper hand again.  The magazine picture Justin would be gone.  Why did that thought bring disappointment? Half an hour later, right on time, Nick rang the doorbell and stood, feeling like a kid on Halloween— Trick or Treat— which would answer the door?  The door opened and Justin stood there in low slung jeans, bare chested, the cross and the marijuana leaf twisted together. Nick swallowed hard. It was what he had heard called a shit-eating grin.  There it was on Justin's face.  Predatory came to mind for a second time that day. No fucking baby blue anywhere, no Britney, none of the Nstink losers and sure as shit no sugar.  "Come," Justin said in a husky voice. "Hey," Nick said, not sure where to go next with the monosyllabic conversation.  He wanted to blurt out his question— Who the hell is the real Justin?  But he bit his lip and held it back. "Drink?" Justin seemed to have the James Dean one word thing down pat. Nick could match him.  So he nodded, "Beer?" He tagged along behind Justin into the kitchen and watched Justin filling the request, amazed that this guy could move like liquid sex even for a task that simple.  "Thanks." Justin motioned to the den and they moved in there.  Sitting on the sofa, at opposite ends, they stared at one another, circling, moving in for the kill.  Nick had gotten his answer.  This was no teenie heart throb.  He wanted to bolt, to call off the faceoff, but he could feel his erection starting and he knew he would have to see it to the end. One word was out of the question.  "Amazing.  Those pictures, I mean." "Um-hmm." Nick was getting pissed now.  The little creep went from an unstoppable word machine to Clint Eastwood.  "Does this one word shit go with the new persona, cuz frankly, it's not cool." Justin laughed then, the old Justin laugh, "Hard to keep up, too." Nick relaxed, "So tell me what's the deal?  The teenie fans must be having a fucking heart attack, not to mention their ticket-buying mommies.  Johnny actually went for this?" Justin looked thoughtful.  Yes—back to the spiritual moment.  Then he got this wolfish grin that would have done AJ proud and said, "It was my decision.  NSYNC will survive." "So which Justin is the real you?" Justin moved so fast Nick didn't see it coming and with one fluid move, the beer bottle was out of Nick's hand and on the table and Justin's tongue was seeking entrance.  Nick's lips parted automatically.  It was what he had been waiting for since he opened the mail today.  He felt his erection hardening as Justin rubbed against him.  Justin rolled off and pulled Nick onto the floor, turning until he was straddling Nick, looking down with the air of the victor.  And Nick thought he was right as he waited, panting, for Justin's next move. "Take your clothes off, Carter," he ordered in that unfamiliar voice, low and husky and demanding.  Nick obeyed without thinking, until he was naked and Justin was in place once more. He looked feral, frightening but it only turned Nick on more if that was possible.  He felt the rough denim rubbing against his dick and knew it was not going to be a long buildup. Justin pulled his arms over his head and held them there, leaning down and kissing with a ferocity Nick had never experienced before. Then he let go and stood, unbuttoning his own jeans and removing them.  He resembled a colossus, towering over the prone man on the floor until he dropped to his knees, plundering Nick's mouth again. Nick was breathless.  He had never had sex where he was totally submissive before but he didn't seem able to make a move and frankly, didn't want to. Justin spit on his fingers and found his way inside Nick, stretching the tight muscle, one finger at a time until the discomfort passed. There were no words, no murmurs of affection, no nothing.  Justin lifted Nick's ankles and after lubricating his dick with more spit, he entered Nick, pausing until Nick adjusted.  Nick looked unsure, almost frightened, but Justin didn't reassure him.  He just started moving in and out until the rhythm took over and the brain bowed out.  As he moved, he grabbed Nick's erection, stroking, knowing the other man was close, his breathing ragged..  Nick exploded for the second time that day, another mind blowing orgasm that he wouldn't have considered possible before this afternoon.  Justin speeded up and only moments later, deposited his own fluids deep inside Nick, signifying his possession.  As he pulled out, he rose above Nick and the young man looked up, almost expecting him to howl. Then he stood, reaching down to haul Nick to his feet. They stood facing one another.  "So, Carter, does that answer your question?" The End * BACK *