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From: Mighty Aphrodite <nsaphrodite@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fic: Thicker Than Water (Celeb, MM, BDSM) I
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 Thicker than Water 
 By Aphrodite 2002
 Disclaimer:  Always, we can only dream, but it's fiction nonetheless. 
 Rating:  Typical Aphrodite NC-17
 Summary:  Two men are bound by blood...
 Author's Note:  Please buy Justin's new album, "FutureSex/LoveSounds".  Best deal on the net is BestBuy.com where you can get the album for $9.99 plus free shipping.  Now, that's dirt cheap to have Justin be your slave and letting you whip him if he misbehave:-)
 Affiliations:  Little Boy Blue at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Little_Boy_Blue/ for Justin Timberlake Slash Angst ; NSAngst at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NSAngst/ for Nsync Angst; Ndecent Pleasures at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Ndecent_pleasures/ for Nsync naughty fics. 
 Feedback:  Yes, please. For feedback whores, feedback is the fuel that feeds the fire.  In this case, let me know what you think and I'll reward you with the rest of the story. 
 
 
 
 Thicker Than Water
 
 We shouldnt be cousins, they would say. We should be brothers.  The thing is they dont know. We are brothers, bound by the common blood that coursed through our veins.  We are blood brothers. When I was 12 and he was 15, we slit our palms and our bloods blended as one. He told me although we were not true brothers, I would always be his brother and he would always be mine.
 
 We shared everything. We shared our darkest kept secrets. We shared our hopes and dreams. We shared our passion for music.  So when he called me from Florida to join a pop group assembled by some man named Lou to emulate the New Kids on the Block, I caught the first train out from Lexington to Orlando because just like him, I love music, but even more importantly, I love Kevin Richardson, my cousin, my best friend, my brother, my lover. 
 
 Everything I learned in life, I learned from Kevin. He taught me about my ever changing body. He taught me about my raging hormones. He even taught me how to kiss. In fact, he was my first kiss. It was the summer before middle school and we were playing Hide n Go Seek in the park near our house.  He closed his eyes and began chanting the numbers as I ran and hid.  
 
 Ready or not, here I come! He announced.  
 
 I giggled. I tried to stay quiet, but in all honesty, I didnt think I wanted to stay hidden forever. I jumped out from under the boulder and flung my arms around Kevin. We fell to the ground together, I on top of him, and then he rolled us over until he was on top of me. And then it happened. My first kiss.  He demonstrated how to probe the mouth, how to suck the lower lip. And when he was done, he told me to kiss him the way he kissed me. And thats when our tongues touched.
 
 The greatest lesson he taught me was how to be myself.  How to be comfortable in my own skin.  How to embrace my sexuality.  How to appreciate myself.  How to love myself because if you couldnt love yourself, how could you love another?  We stripped each other naked during the summer after freshmen year in high school. We stood before the mirror and admired out nakedness. He told me I should know that I was the most beautiful thing to walk on this earth.  He ran his fingertips lightly over my chest, tracing circles around my nipples, before running those same callous fingertips down across my abdomen, teasing my navel, and thenall the while telling me what a masterpiece God made of me.  And then that was when it happened. I turned around and I got down on my knees and took into my mouth the 7 inches of glorified meat protruding from Kevins body.  He arched his back, but stood erect like Michelangelos David, as I bobbed up and down his shaft. He grasped the back of my
 head, urging me further, massaging my sweat slicked hair.  After he erupted in my mouth and composed himself, he picked me up off the ground and turned me around. I watched in the mirror as he inserted his rod into me. He thrust in and out of me in rhythmic moves.  It was like a dance.  His hands on my hips, my arms snaked around to grip his buttocks from behind.  We connected in so many levels. It had to be it.  It was love. After we made love, he told me that although he was going to go away to college in the fall, he would always write to me. And that he did. 
 
 Kevin was everything to me.  And I was everything to him. We shared a mutual bond. We shared our blood.  We were meant to be one- separated only by death. So long as we were breathing on this earth, I belonged to him and he belonged to me.  That was our bond, only to be severed by our deaths. Still, I was convinced that not even death could part us. I would follow him through heaven and hell and back, again, just to be with my cousin, my best friend, my brother, my lover.
 
 Even when I married Leighann and he married Kristen, we still met up on Sundays for our weekly bonding sessions in our little farmhouse we grew up in Lexington. There, we would make love, reliving our childhood days.  Oh, it was still amazing. It still felt like our first time when we made love back on that hot summer day.  I had purposely abstained from anal sex just to save myself for Kevin.
 
 Then, suddenly, everything stopped. The world seemed to have stopped spinning. Everything halted. While we were fooling around in his car, I found a lose strand of dirty blonde curls. Silky curls. Not like mine. Mine were soft. These were silky.  That was only the beginning.  I started to find more and more things that did not belong to me in our house, the house we bought together as a reflection of our commitment to each other.  Sure he had a house a couple of blocks away as did I, but this was our house.  I was furious when I found a pair of size 13 sneakers.  Sneakers! I stopped wearing sneakers in the ninth grade.  And I most definitely do not wear size 13 shoes.  I wanted to confront him, to demand the name of the whore he was bringing home.  I marched up the stairs and flung the door open. I stomped to the second floor, to the third door on the left and kicked open the door. That was when I saw a glimpse of his whores fingers under the bed as Kevin sat so casually
 waiting for me. I told him I just wanted to tell him that the new Arena Homme Plus magazine that he had been fussing about was now out and then I left. I saw what I came to see.  As soon as I got to my place down the street, I made a few quick phone calls, hired some high-priced detectives. I was determined to find out who Kevins whore was. I already had a few suspects lined up.
  
 
 For the next few weeks, nothing happened. No sneaking around. No unanswered phone calls. All appeared normal, again. And then, it happened.  Kevin Richardson missed the first Sunday in June, then the second, then the third. He missed the entire month of July, August, and September.  What could have changed in his life to make him miss our weekly bonding days?  It wasnt the fact that Kristen was pregnant, right? Afterall, she, like Leighann, was merely a ploy to get the media off our backs. He didnt love her as much as I didnt love Leighann.  He nor I would ever have sex with our wives. Since it wasnt her, it had to be him.
 
 The detectives videotaped my Kevin dining with his whore in a downtown café.  I could see it in their eyes. Hear it in their laughs. This was no ordinary love affair. It went beyond sex and lust. It ran deeper than any artificial relationship he or I had experienced. Still, it was no match for our brotherly bond.
 
 The self-centered prick of a whore, Justin Timberlake, who was my arch nemesis, gave me yet another reason to pound his sorry ass. As if fuckin his bandmates wasnt enough, he had to seduce Kevin, too. Justin Timberlake, the all American boy, the Golden Child, with honey golden curls, and deep intense blue eyes, and that fuckin grin, was now my lovers whore and now Brian Littrells public enemy number one. 
 
 For the next few weeks, I followed the self-centered prick everywhere from his hotel room to the public mens restroom in Saks Fifth Avenue.  Wherever he went, I followed, knowing that one day his path would cross Kevins and then I would catch them in the act, the conniving assholes.
 
 His cell phone rang and from the one-ended conversation I had eavesdropped in, I could tell that they had planned on meeting somewhere this weekend.  I knew this was my chance so when the weekend arrived, I followed the whore in my car. He was as dumb as a stick and never even noticed the flaming red convertible following him from Memphis to Lexington.  When the little farmhouse came into view in the corner of my eyes, my heart sank. 
 
 Damn son of bitch. Just as I expected, he was going to take his new whore to our secret haven. He was going to fuckin bed Justin Timberlake in our fuckin bed. The mere thought of that boys cum intermixed with ours on our sheets was enough to repulse me.
 
 I made my move as soon as he got out of the car. I came up behind him and placed a knife to his neck.
 
 Dont turn around or Ill fuckin carve out the Backstreet Boys on your face. I threatened. 
 
 The threat worked, of course, because everyone in the whole fuckin world knew that Justin was a vain, self-centered prick.  I took a thick fabric and wrapped it around his head, blinding him.  We stumbled over to my car where I had stashed the rope under the seats. I retrieved the rope and bound his hands together at the front.  We made our way across the field and into the farmhouse.  I opened the door and shoved him in roughly.  I grabbed the rope and dragged him into the bedroom. Once inside, I pushed him onto the bed. When his body hit the silky satin sheets underneath, he began to panic, pushing himself off the bed, begging me not to hurt him. I slapped him across the face and pounced on top of him.  I gripped the end of the rope and looped another rope around it and tied it to the bedpost, stretching his long arms above his head.  
 
 Shh I cooed, all the while slowly tearing away his clothes with the knife,  Dont struggle. And I wont hurt.  You hear? He nodded, immediately, and I had to reward him with a quick slap on the thighs.  
 
 I successfully removed all his clothes save for his boxer-briefs.  I really didnt want to see his sausage meat anyways. I drifted away and looked at my masterpiece. There was Justin Timberlake, blindfolded, practically naked in only his skin-tight boxer-briefs, bound by the wrists to the headboard.  The sight was definitely arousing. The kid was gorgeous. I had to admit. But there was something missing.  Something wasnt there. Oh, yes. I reached for the bag I had stuffed under the bed and retrieved his fuckin bandana I had found in our fuckin laundry basket a month ago. Using his signature bandana, I silenced him. 
 
 Perfect. Once everything was set, I stepped away. I found the closet and returned to the closet, closing the door behind me, but leaving a small aperture for which I could peek through.  Now it was just a matter of waiting and wondering.  
 
tbc...
 
 Closing Notes:  Don't forget to buy Justin's new album on Sept. 12, "FutureSex/LoveSounds". 
 		
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