Zac

"You know . . ." I began pensively. Dave looked over at me. I froze.

"What?" he asked after a pause, the same gentle voice a doctor uses when he's about to give you a painful immunization.

"I can't put it into words," I lied, knowing full well I could, and in fact just had. . . . shouldn't let the fear of liking another guy get in the way . . . Jeez, why did this entire topic have to be so difficult? Why was gender such a huge issue? Why did anybody think it was? Why did I think it was?! I had to be stupid and blow it out of proportion. But, in our society, it was already blown out of proportion, and that's why it was so "incorrect." On a whim of disgust for myself and society, I turned straight to Dave, and said stonily, "I kinda want to try this entire gay thing."

Dave bit his lip to keep from smiling. "Huh?"

"I mean . . . yeah. Sorry," I said, feeling a little embarrassed. "I was talking about Scott and Tay when I said that Scott shouldn't let fear get in the way, and - it hit home. I'm sorry to be so nervous about it, and I know the ground has kind of been covered, but, I mean, yeah, you even said you'd help, so . . ."

"Wanna go grab a cab back to the hotel?" Dave prompted.

I nodded.

"Whew. I've been waiting for you to suggest that," he sighed. "It's kind of been sitting on my mind."

I felt an incredible weight suddenly disappear from my shoulders, and I looked at Dave incredulously. "Well, fuck, Dave, if I'd have known that, I would have mentioned it earlier."

"I didn't want to scare you away from it," Dave admitted. "It's the kind of topic that should be handled delicately, I think."

"Yeah, like earlier . . ." I trailed off, remembering when we'd some so close to kissing.

"Yeah, I didn't know if you'd want to do that or not," he told me.

"Well, I don't know . . . maybe not that . . . but other things?" I asked quietly.

"I'm for it," he said, smiling a little. "I had fun last night."

"So did I." The thought caused a streak of ecstasy to pass over me. Dave raised his hand as he saw a taxi turn onto the street, and it promptly pulled over to us.

"So maybe . . . another shower?" he asked as he opened the door to the yellow vehicle.

"Sounds good."

"DoubleTree on Pine, please," Dave told the driver as we climbed in.

"Si," gruffed the Hispanic driver.

"Habla Englais?" Dave asked him.

"No," replied the Hispanic driver.

Dave smiled at me, meaning we could continue our conversation. I found myself tapping on my knee in anticipation. "So, my room or yours, stud?"

"Stud? So I'm a stud now? Nobody's at mine, and probably won't be for a little while."

"I'm pretty sure Scott's fleeing for the hotel," he replied.

"Okay, the Hanson Suite then," I said.

"You want it nice and slow, or hard and fast?" Dave was continually joking.

"Give me all you've got, you stallion, you," I joked right back. "All night long. Bonk, bonk, bonk." Before long, the cab pulled over into the hotel driveway, and Dave and I were still making horrid, lewd jokes, laden with puns and sexual references. We paid the driver and climbed out.

"Have fun tonight, boys," the driver said in his Hispanic accent as I closed the door. Dave and I looked at each other, jaws dropping.

"Oh my God, I guess he did speak English!" Dave cried.

We both busted up laughing.

Scott

I knocked on the Hansons' hotel door. Once. Once again. Yet again.

"Dammit."

I leaned forward and put my forehead on the door, cursing non-stop. I was going through serious withdrawal from being on the best drug known to man, and if I didn't talk to Taylor soon, I was going to explode. I squeezed my eyes shut and planned out my speech for the thirtieth time.

I can never really apologize for all the horrible things I said to you, but I take them all back. I was upset, and I couldn't control what I was saying. Please forgive me. I need you so bad right now, and I don't want anything to come between us. I love you. Please, don't be angry.

"God, I sound like a freaking WB show," I whispered, opening my eyes.

Suddenly, I looked up, peering down the hall. A figure stood there in dark clothing, but as soon as I laid eyes on it, it turned and disappeared down the hallway where the stairs were. Fright kicked me in the stomach.

"Hello?" I found myself calling out. I heard the doorway to the stairs open, and before I could control my body's reactions, I was slowly walking down the hallway to the branch that held the doorway. My heart pounded at my rib-cage, ready to spring out. I slipped around the corner, seeing the door close.

Why am I following this person? I wondered to myself. It was probably just a maid or something!

But my instincts were kicking in, telling me that this figure had not been a friendly non-English-speaking person. The dark clothing had looked menacing, or else I wouldn't have suddenly felt afraid, and I wouldn't be after this person.

"Oh, come on," I suddenly told myself. "I am so paranoid." I forced myself to laugh and turn back. Yeah, right . . .

I walked back to my room slowly, looking over my shoulder every once in a while, and making it without incidence, went inside. Bob was on the cell phone, speaking with someone from EMI Canada, and Clint and Dad were talking about something.

"Hey, Scott. Back so soon?" Clint asked in a sugary voice.

"Yes," I snapped.

"You mean your friend didn't invite you to stay?"

"They weren't there."

I turned and strolled into the bedroom, wondering when exactly things had gotten so messed up. Everything had been so perfect last night; all except for that roof incident. Jesus, that was only last night? I checked my watch. What the fuck ever. It was only eight-thirty in the evening. Maybe I could break my guitar over my head and go to sleep so this damn day would be over with!

I jumped as the phone on the beside table rang. I blinked. Why was it ringing? Hotel phones never rang. We hadn't given anyone our number. They all had Dad's cell phone number. Maybe a fan had found out where we were. Nobody else ever called hotel rooms. Then, my heart jumped. Maybe it was Taylor. I lunged forward and grabbed the phone.

"Taylor?"

There was a brief pause, and then a breath.

"Hello?" I asked slowly.

"Mr. Moffatt?" asked a low drawl. "I believe I have something you want."

My grip tightened on the phone, shock searing my mind. "Who is this?"

"A friend."

Click.

"Scott, who's on the phone?" Dad asked, peering into the bedroom.

Dazedly, I placed the phone back in its cradle, my heart again pounding in my ears.

"Nobody."

Zac

I reached in. My fingers slowly caressed the cold plastic before taking a grip on it and twisting.

Shhhh.

Warm - then hot - water began to flow readily from the faucet hanging a bit over our heads. Our eyes met, and an electrifying bolt riveted between us. Though our mouths remained closed, a thousand words passed between us in that moment. We both understood that the thoughts and actions that were occurring and about to occur were all big no-no's, but somehow, neither of us seemed to care, or at least let it bother us to the extent that we wouldn't permit ourselves the interlude.

Dave's face, lit with giggles and grins only moments ago, had now taken on a serious, set aura. I didn't try to shove away the thought of how he was classically, smolderingly handsome. His dark, sculpted eyebrows weren't as straight as Clint and Bob's, but not as arched as Scott's, and made him look both inquisitive and knowing at the same time. His eyes were fixed on me as mine were on him - his dark, calm eyes, darker than mine, more like fudge or sweet dark chocolate. His jaw was a delicate, well-plotted mix of Scott's and the twins' - he wasn't as skinny as the twins and his face wasn't as round as Scott's. A smile always seemed to be stuck right in the corner of his mouth, even if he looked serious.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asked me, raising his arms and shedding the blue button-up Hawaiian shirt he was wearing over the black T-shirt. His voice was amazing; so amazing, it sent shivers up my spine. The way it was tinged with just the lightest Canadian accent . . . and how soft and firm it was.

I shook my head mutely, and went for slowly taking off my shirt. It wasn't that I felt self-conscious, but I just had that unsure feeling of now knowing exactly what to do, like there were instructions I didn't read or there were unspoken rules to how one was to go about this experimentation.

Dave let out a sigh as he took off his black T-shirt, too.

"This feels awkward," he lamented.

"Yeah, I know," I yelped. "I have no idea what to do."

"I guess - just . . . do whatever comes to your mind," he offered me, trying to appease the shy side of me enough to get out the extrovert that suddenly decided to hide.

"I think just about the only thing in mind is panic."

"Panic? We don't have to do this."

Dave looked ready to pick up his clothes and scamper from the bathroom with his tail between his legs, and I wondered if Dave actually wanted to do this or if he was just offering to help me, personally. I was leaning towards the latter, at that moment. I shook my head demurely.

"That's not it. I want to . . . I'm just at a loss. I guess I need a clarification. What exactly are we doing?"

"I don't know, I was going to get in the shower, since it's running, and I was only assuming you were going to join me . . . and we can take it from there."

His fingers unfastened the button at the top of his blue jeans. I nodded eagerly, and mimicked him, quickly unsnapping my green cargos and sliding them down my legs. I felt his eyes on me, and it kind of felt like I was butter and he was a hot knife. I straightened my body, and eyed him too - he was standing likewise in his boxers. I smiled.

"Star Wars?"

Dave grinned and nodded, informing me, "Darth Vader."

I laughed, and it was wonderful to feel some of the pent-up tension escape.

"Check it out," he added, and turned around. On the ass of his boxers, it said in big white lettering, "It Is Useless To Resist." I cracked up, not only because of the pun, but, his ass was kind of irresistible. Then, as it became apparent to us both that after the boxers were removed we'd both be naked, and after that, who knew, and we fell silent, and he turned around again.

Dave

"You first," Zac said, gesturing to me as if he were a gentleman holding a door open for me. His blond hair fell over his shoulders like a wheat-colored curtain.

"Same time," I suggested. Zac agreed. I slid my thumbs into the waistband of my boxer-shorts and watched as he hiked in his fingers, too, and quickly, we both yanked them down to our feet, standing naked as the day we were born in the noisy, warm bathroom. He shamelessly lowered his eyes to my half-hardened dick. "Why, Dave, you seem to have an excited friend."

"He's a fan of you," I shot back sarcastically.

"You don't say! I'm charmed." Then, Zac hushed for a moment as he realized I was again looking at his body, too. Soft, wispy hair had only begun to gather around the base of his cock, and also just a little tuft right beneath his little innie belly button. He, like me, was semi-erect in the anticipation of our shower.

"You're long," he observed, and then blushed. His blush caused me to smile broadly.

"Not really."

"Longer than me," he shrugged.

"Well, you're wider."

Zac smiled, too.

"Let's get in."

We both slid the shower curtain aside, and climbed in at the same time, on opposite sides of the bathtub, feeling the steam of the hot water blasting against our bodies. It was darker in the secluded area behind the curtain, and we both felt more comfortable. As before, Zac was under the shower head and got hit with all the water. His light blond hair became dark and dense as the water pelted it flat against his head. I noticed his little nipples standing out hard from his chest, and felt a head rush of excitement.

"Cool!" Zac said, and I realized he was talking about the bottle of complimentary body wash sitting on the soap dish, next to a little bunched-up wad of netting used for a sponge. "My mom always gets things like this in the mail."

"Cool, give me some," I said, and I fear I sounded a little desperate, but I was starting to feel light-headed and horny. Zac flipped open the lid and I held out my hand for him to squeeze some into. He awarded me with a quarter-sized droplet of the gooey white soap stuff, and chortled.

"You know what that looks like? . . ."

I smiled at Zac's allusion. "Yup." I snatched the bottle from him and aimed for his chest. Squeezing, I drew a little swirly pattern on his chest with the pearly white body wash. "Now it looks even more like it."

"Hehe," Zac giggled, grabbing my hand and smacking it onto my own chest, so I, too, was beginning to drip with soap that looked amazingly like cum.

I rubbed it around on my skin a little bit. "Yuck, it even feels like it."

Zac mimicked me. "You're right. I hope it isn't what it looks like."

We both made a face, then burst into laughter. A fine film of lather was worked up over my skin, and it felt great, and I was dying just to take my hard cock in hand and use the slippery substance there, but decided to hold off a little longer. Zac's skin was beginning to shine with all the soap on his chest. He smiled at himself as he used both hands to rub his pectorals firmly. He suddenly looked up at me from beneath his lashes and the sexiness of his stare almost knocked me over. My hand that had been working on my chest stopped completely.

"Dave, you retard, can't you even wash yourself anymore?" Zac teased. To my surprise, he reached one of his bubbly hands forward and gently began to massage my chest. I couldn't speak for shock, but my dick reacted promptly, jumping up a bit into a larger erection. Oh my God . . . his fingers . . .

I gasped in for a breath, realizing I'd also stopped breathing a moment before, and let out an aroused grunt. Zac's grin melted off into an expression of both concentration and wonderment at my reaction.