This is the forty-sixth story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Absolute Beginners.

This is pure fluff. The angst monster took off for the holiday weekend. :evil :lol There is hot, grab you by the you know what, sex here, so be warned. :lol And finally, Jack demonstrates once more how politically incorrect he can be when he puts his mind to it. So please don't stone me if you're a Doors fan. (You'll see what I mean when you read it.) My thanks to Mali for major hand-holding and inspiring Jack to be even more naughty than usual. :)

Warnings: m/m, AU, humor, bad language, graphic sex. No spoilers for the movie.

~Silk

*****

Quadrant 44


By Silk


Curt fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Brian. As much as he wanted to be buried deep inside his lover, as much as he craved that sense of connection with a ferocity he couldn't even put into actual words, he knew they couldn't make love. Not here. Not now.

His earlier brash remarks to the contrary, Curt didn't want anyone eavesdropping on him anymore. Gone were the days when he could blithely fuck or be fucked without a care for who or what might be listening or even watching. He must have been seriously fucked in the head, or doped up to the eyeballs, or both, to have lived the way he did. Because it wasn't him. Not really.

When he had first fallen in love with Brian, his first glimpse of what it could be like with the press monitoring their every movement was brought back to him with a vengeance. The Kiss. He had scowled at the reporters because it was an intrusion on a very private moment. And it was never going to be happen that way again.

That kiss had changed his life and Brian's. And from now on, he was saving all of his kisses for when they were alone. It wasn't that he objected to public displays of affection when they were with friends like Jack and Arthur. But now that they were on tour, he was determined to be more careful than ever.

He would guard their hearts with the fervor of a zealot now. He had good reason. He had love. In the form of the bright angel who shared his pillow and his innermost feelings...and who even now drove him to an aching hardness with the slightest flicker of an eyelash against his cheek or a puff of breath on his lips.

He rolled over onto his stomach and smiled in his sleep when Brian's leg slid between his, effectively trapping him. He was holding onto him even when he slept. How could he not cherish a beautiful soul like that?

It was going to be different this time. Because no matter what...Brian wasn't letting go of Curt.

*****

"Jack!" Arthur chirped loudly in his lover's ear.

"Arthur..." Jack replied drowsily, not even opening his eyes. "Go play in traffic. There's a good boy."

"No one will let me interview them," the younger man said plaintively.

Jack opened one eye and peeked at his lover. He couldn't bear to hear that note in Arthur's voice. "Well...that's not what they're here for, sweetness."

Arthur sniffed and lay his head on Jack's shoulder. He wouldn't beg Jack to use his influence. That wouldn't be right. But he wished he would. He just wanted a little practice, that's all.

"Jack?"

Jack heaved a great sigh. It didn't take a mind reader to figure out what Arthur wanted. "Yes, my earnest little teddy bear, you can practice on me."

Arthur beamed, and Jack couldn't resist stealing a kiss. That made Arthur blush, but that, too, was cute enough that it earned the younger man yet another tender caress.

"I don't think I'm supposed to get involved with the people I interview," Arthur said tentatively. Jack wasn't sure if he was teasing or not. But it didn't matter. "You'd better not. Or I shall flog you."

"I don't think flogging is quite the done thing anymore, Jack."

Now Jack knew that Arthur was being cheeky. "Stop that at once. Or I'm going to spank you."

Arthur's dark eyes gleamed. "Would you, Jack? Would you really? No one's ever spanked me before. It might be...um...exciting."

Jack leaned forward and kissed him, slowly, lingering on his lips long enough to make a lasting impression. "My dear boy, if you got any more excited than you already are, there wouldn't be enough room on this bus to contain you."

Arthur reached out and grasped Jack's hand. With tantalizing slowness, he guided Jack's hand down the front of his body, stopping only when Jack's palm was directly over his groin. Not a word passed between them, but Jack used his other hand to pull his blanket over both of them, covering their laps.

"Jack!" Arthur uttered huskily when he finally found his voice.

Then Jack's fingers were in his long brown hair and Arthur completely forgot about lessons in the art of interviewing.

*****

When they resurfaced, it was near evening. Jack peered out the window. It looked like they were coming into the town where they were going to play. "We're almost there."

"You're telling me," Arthur whispered, cuddling closer.

"No, I meant the concert," Jack said with a kind smile. He could get used to being the center of someone's universe, especially when that someone was as dear as his Arthur.

"Can I play with you now?"

"But darling, I thought you were," Jack replied drolly.

Arthur colored again, almost as furiously as before. "I meant the interview."

"Very well. I did promise."

"What's your name?"

"I'm sorry, love, but if you don't know who you're interviewing, it's a pretty sad state of affairs."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Your real name."

"Why don't we skip that one?"

"No," Arthur said firmly. He was going to learn not to take 'no' for an answer if it killed him. And from the look on Jack's face, it might.

"All right, you tenacious little sprat, Jack is my real name."

"And?"

Jack sighed and counted to ten silently. "Morrison. Okay?"

" Jack Morrison?"

"Yes. But Morrison is a name you could never get famous with...so you can see why I changed it."

Arthur's eyes grew big and round. "Um...Jack...you never heard of Jim Morrison? From the Doors?"

"Isn't he dead?"

"Well...yeah. But Jack-"

"It's a little difficult to be famous when you're dead, darling."

Arthur frowned hard. "Tell that to all the fucking people camped out on his grave in Paris."

"Really? Hmm...I never cared for his music, but he did wear leather rather well."

"Jack, he's a fucking legend."

"Yes, but when it comes down to it...he's still dead, isn't he?"

"Jack, you wouldn't want people to say such stuff about you."

"My dear angel, I could hardly object if I were dead, could I?"

"I don't think you understand the whole concept of being interviewed," Arthur said between clenched teeth.

Jack leaned forward until they were nose to nose. "I don't think you understand that the interviewer is always at the mercy of the interviewee."

"So...what's your favorite color, Jack?"

Jack smiled graciously as he sat back in his seat. "Magenta."

"Jesus," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"I heard that. Don't ever let the subject rattle you, my love."

"Would it be too much to bloody ask for you to bloody behave?" Arthur snapped, his dark eyes throwing sparks.

To his amazement, Jack began to clap slowly. "Very good. You're learning."

"You mean this was all a test?"

"Possibly."

"Don't you ever speak plain English, Jack?"

"Whatever for?"

*****

Jack regarded his two favorite people, aside from Arthur, of course, with a fond smile. "Curt," he called softly. "It's time."

Curt woke fairly quickly, but Brian clung to him, making a delicious little noise that sent shivers up and down Curt's spine. "Baby, wake up."

"Do I have to?" Brian asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Well, everyone else is already inside. Unless you plan on missing your first show..."

"Okay, okay," Brian said, pulling himself into a sitting position. "I'm up."

"So am I," Curt said, trying in vain not to feel aroused by the sight of sleep-rumpled hair and love-bitten lips.

"Now, Curt."

"God, you're prickly when you're not getting any, Jack."

Jack gave his friend a bemused look. " I'm not the one who's not getting any, Curt."

"Bastard."

"Bum."

"Hey, that's Mr. Bum to you. And at least I come by it naturally."

Suddenly they all burst out laughing, the tension that they hadn't even realized was there quickly dissipated. "Thanks, that helped, Jack."

"My pleasure. Now get the hell out of bed."

"Slave driver."

*****

Brian and Curt were forced to share a dressing room. Space was at a premium within the confines of the relatively small venue. Jack was in the room next door, graciously allowing Arthur to act as his dresser.

That alone was enough to make both of them roll their eyes.

"Do you think they're doing it?"

"I'm strung out enough as it is without you putting that lovely image in my head, thank you very much," Curt retorted.

"Want me to rub your shoulders?" Brian offered, the tip of his tongue barely protruding between his teeth.

Jesus. "You're trying to kill me, right?"

"You're tense, Curt. You need to relax."

"There's a name for what you're doing, babe."

Brian opened his mouth and rubbed his bottom lip with his index finger. Curt could feel himself starting to break out in a sweat.

"I am not a cock tease," Brian whispered. "I always deliver."

"You're going to ruin a perfectly good pair of leathers, um, Tommy."

"Then I'll just have to take them off."

"Oh, my God."

Curt panted, his breath coming harsher and harsher as he grew hard in Brian's hand. Brian gave him a crooked little half-smile before swallowing him whole. "Briannnn..." Curt hissed, his mind too heated to register his mistake. His fingers clutched at Brian's hair, sinking deep into his scalp to hold him there.

"It's Tommy, you prat," Brian chuckled, his accent becoming more pronounced.

"Listen, you poofy little Irish bitch, I know who you are. I-Oh, God, you're the crazy little fucker sucking my cock."

Brian flicked his tongue over the tip of Curt's dick and felt it throb in response. He was close, damn close. Already on his knees, Brian leaned forward, his palms resting on Curt's muscular thighs. Some men were pretty funny looking with their pants down around their ankles. But Curt...Curt was his fucking god.

Brian pressed Curt back against the wall, his tongue licking up and down the length of the massive arousal between his legs. Curt's ass clenched and unclenched, the coolness of the paneling behind him adding an extra bit of stimulation. Curt shuddered without any warning at all, hot sticky fluid splashing his lover's face and mouth.

After he came, he pulled Brian to his feet and kissed him, tasting himself on that swollen, reddened mouth. "Oh, baby..." he sighed. "What you do to me."

Brian grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do you have a tissue?"

Curt kissed him again, winding his hands through that long, dark hair.

Suddenly the door opened. There stood Jack, resplendent in a bright red sequined gown. "I'm doing my damnedest to bring back glitter. What do you think?"

"It's dead, Jack."

End