Fletch was drunk. There was no way around it. And when you began to giggle like high-school girl, you had to face facts and stop denying it. He needn’t worry, however, as his drinking partner for that night was also suitably wrecked. “He’s just too pretty,” Matt informed his manager, gesturing wildly with his beer bottle as he did so. “No man should be that pretty.”

Fletch giggled, “I think James pulls it off very well…” Matt pulled off his looks too, he noted. Dark and handsome, with a hint of mischief lurking beneath the surface, waiting to spring upon you. It was incredibly sexy… Fletch shook his head slightly, he shouldn’t be having these thoughts. Then again… Being drunk could be the perfect excuse to stare at Matt. He could always blame it on the alcohol if Matt questioned it in the morning.

“Fletch…” Matt cooed, breaking through the older man’s thoughts. “You in there…?”

Fletch blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “Sorry, what?”

Matt laughed, “You look cute when you daydream.”

The manager had to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t still doing so. “What?” he asked again. Keeping his face deadly serious, and his eyes on Fletch, Matt leaned in and pressed his lips to Fletch’s. Under his drunken bubble, Fletch’s ‘wrong’ radar began to screech. But he ignored it. However… he mused as he found himself being sucked into the kiss. It wouldn’t hurt to ride with it for now… The kiss was far from gentle. As a matter of fact, it was rough, and needy. Fletch pulled him closer, the long hidden craving suddenly breaking free.

Matt’s tongue could make his head spin, Fletch discovered. He knew just where to apply pressure. He broke away, and opened his eyes slowly, “Fletch…”

“I’d better go,” he stammered. Matt looked shocked, and he pulled Fletch back in to kiss him again. After thirty seconds of constant battle with himself, Fletch jerked back. “I should go.”

*****

The next morning, when a groggy, probably over-caffeinated, Fletch strode into their CD:uk dressing room, Matt was already there, and he and James were playing ‘Rate it or slate it’ with the clothes rack. Charlie was sitting in the corner, pretending to ignore them, but Fletch could see an amused gleam in his hazel eyes. “This,” Matt announced, pulling forth a blue denim shirt with pink frilly cuffs and collar. “Rate it or slate it, James?”

“I’m a little insulted that you even have to ask. Clearly, that think is very sexy…” James laughed, “Slate it. Five.”

“Five? It’s not that bad. I thought four.”

“Five,” James confirmed stubbornly. “No doubt about it.”

“Are you lot even vaguely ready?” Fletch asked in exasperation as Matt set the shirt back on the rack. “You’re on in twenty minutes…”

“Calm down, Fletch,” James said easily. “We have time. I need to go get a drink, actually…”

Charlie nodded, “Yeah. I’ll go with you.” They left together. Fletch locked the door behind them.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said in response to Matt’s raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. “I just don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m saying this.”

Matt lowered himself onto the edge of the table filled with accessories, “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

He took a deep breath. “Matt, last night was…” He trailed off, at a loss for words.

“Amazing, but…” Matt prompted.

“Amazing, but…” Fletch echoed. “It can’t happen again. It just can’t. I’m your manager!”

“And is it against the law for a manager to have a love life?” he asked softly, almost threateningly.

That flustered Fletch. “Well, no. I don’t think so. But-” He broke off as Matt stood up purposefully and moved towards him, “What are you doing?”

“This ‘can’t happen’? Then stop it.” He captured Fletch’s mouth with his own, applying pressure to his bottom lip with his tongue. Fletch parted his lips without thinking, giving Matt access to his mouth. This time the kiss was soft and gentle, as opposed to the hard, needy passion that he’d encountered last night. Matt smiled, “It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you won’t.”

“Clearly you’re still half drunk,” Fletch tried. He gasped, “Matt! Get your hand away from there right now!”

“Or what?” he asked breathily, leaning into him, his hand gently rubbing his manager’s crotch. “You seem to be enjoying it…” he stated. Fletch couldn’t help it. He was getting a serious erection on account of Mat’s actions.

“Matt, stop it.” He gaped at the younger man when Matt suddenly dropped to his knees, “Oh, no. Don’t you dare!” Fletch took a step back, and found himself up against the wall. Matt shuffled forward to trap him there.

“I dare,” he told him matter-of-factly, undoing his belt.

“Get up, now,” Fletch ordered. Matt slid down his fly, and plucked open the button. “I’m serious, if you even try- Don’t!” he begged as Matt slid down his boxers.

“You gonna punish me?” Matt’s voice became a little muffled as he closed his mouth around the head of Fletch’s penis.

“Oh, God.” Fletch braced himself against Matt’s shoulders as the bassist began to move expertly up and down his length. He felt Matt shake with laughter, which just added to the waves of pleasure he was already receiving. Fletch found himself, once again, marvelling at the skill of Matt’s tongue, which- once or twice- caused him to cry out in shocked awe. Though he was sure not to be too loud, they were in a television studio after all. It didn’t take him long to reach his peak, and Matt neatly swallowed all that he gave.

Matt took great care to put all of Fletch’s lower clothing back into place before standing up. “See? That wasn’t that ba-” He was abruptly cut off when Fletch seized him and kissed him roughly. More! was all Fletch could think. He needed more. He wanted more. He cr-

“Matt?” There was a furious banging at the door. “Mate, you in there? We gotta go!”

Matt pulled back, “Charlie. Damn it! I forgot.” He ran a finger down Fletch’s nose, and smiled, “We’ll continue this later.”

*****

Fletch did his best to avoid Matt from then on, to ensure ‘later’ never arrived. A week had passed before his doorbell rang. Fletch pulled it open. “Matt!” He tried to shut it again, but a Conversed foot slid between the frame and the door, preventing the door from closing.

“Fletch… You’re not normally this rude.”

Fletch backed off, “You’re not normally this bad at taking no for an answer, doesn’t seem to be stopping you.”

Matt stepped inside and closed the door. Fletch’s heart sank as he heard the snib click into place. That cut off the front door as a method of escape, then. “I won’t take no for an answer, because it’s not what you want to say.”

Fletch back-stepped into the living room, “I think I’m pretty sure of what I want, Matt.”

“I disagree…” Matt said conversationally, following him. “I think it terrifies you that you want what you believe you shouldn’t, so therefore you deny those feelings.”

“That’s pretty deep for someone who was complaining last month that they didn’t put enough fruit in the pastille.” Fletch skirted round behind the sofa to put a solid object between them.

Matt laughed softly, “What can I say? I can be very persuasive when it comes to what I want.” He jumped over the back of the sofa suddenly, sending Fletch scrambling for somewhere else to hide. Matt managed to grasp his wrist firmly, heaving him back so they ended up nose-to-nose again.

“Don’t fuck with me, Matt,” Fletch warned.

“You’re not easily fucked.” Matt stopped and considered, “In either sense.” He slid an arm round Fletch’s waist, to anchor him into place so he couldn’t run away again. He kissed him softly, and Fletch responded, before breaking away.

“Matt,-” Another kiss. “-this-” Another. “-can’t-” And another. “-happen.” Yet another.

Matt nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, pulling Fletch backwards into the bedroom.

*****

When Fletch woke up the next morning, the bed next to him was empty. He sat up slowly and frowned. He could hear the shower going. He stood up and headed through to the bathroom. The door was unlocked, and the curtain pulled, so he snuck in. “You still here?”

He had the satisfaction of hearing Matt yelp in surprise. It was a few seconds before he regained his composure enough to speak: “That depends… Are you still naked?”

Fletch glanced down, as if clothes could’ve magically sprung onto his body without him realising, “Yes.”

The curtain drew back, and a very wet Matt grinned out at him. “Then I’m still here.” He pulled Fletch into the shower with him. The warm water hit Fletch’s skin, making him squeak in protest.

“So I see,” he remarked, moving his mouth to meet Matt’s. His target, wet and warm, came down to cut the journey short.

There was a cheeky grin on Matt’s face when they broke away, “You ever done it in a shower, Fletch?”

The reply he got was a dropped jaw. “You- You’re sex obsessed!”

Matt nipped the soft flesh of his manager’s neck with his teeth, “With you, anyone would be.”

*****

Matt strode into the foyer approximately ten minutes after Fletch had for the photo shoot they were due for. “Morning,” he said cheerfully, even though it was only half an hour off noon.

James rounded on him straight away, “You got laid last night.”

“May have done,” Matt said with a shrug. He was grinning, but that was partly because of the look of pure terror that had materialised on Fletch’s face over his band mate’s shoulder.

“Who is she?” James asked curiously.

Another shrug. “No-one. Just this bird I picked up in the bar last night. Complete and utter slut, but she put out,” he remarked, watching with amusement as a look of insult crept into his lover’s features.

“She stay the night?”

Matt met Fletch’s eye directly, “Hell, yeah.” Fletch flushed and looked down at his feet. “She stayed the night, all right. Did it again in the shower this morning.”

“That does it. I’m not touching you at all today,” James vowed.

“Shame. I was hoping for a hug...”

“Don’t you-” James broke off with a shriek as Matt extended his arms and lurched towards him. “No! Leave me alone!” he squawked, running to hide behind a plant pot. Matt seized him in a giant bear hug. “No!” James shouted, now half-collapsed with laughter, trying to fight him off. “Matt!”

*****

“Okay, ten minute break,” the photographer called. Matt could almost hear the hallelujah chorus. His bladder had been screaming in protest for the last three quarters of an hour.

“I’m going to the loo,” he told James, who nodded. Matt power-walked out the room. Two minutes later he stepped back from the urinal in relief, and turned to wash his hands at the sink. He prodded at the corners of his eyes, “Man! I did not get enough sleep last night…”

Fletch appeared in the mirror behind him, “You complaining, Willis?”

Matt spun round, “Definitely not.” He cupped the back of Fletch’s neck and quickly pulled him in for a kiss.

“Matt! Not here! Anyone could walk in!”

Matt sighed, looked decidedly grumpy, “You’re right. I’ll see you later!" He walked over to the door, but- instead of opening it- Fletch heard a snap. Matt turned back, a wicked gleam in his eyes, “No-one can walk in now.”

*****

James hammered on the bathroom door with his fists. Where the hell was he? How long did it take to piss? And why was the door locked?! “Matt! You’re five minutes late back! Are you constipated in there, or something?! What are you doing?!”

The door opened and Matt stepped out, looking perfectly normal, if a little irritated. “I’m fucking Fletch,” was all he said.

James snorted with laughter, “Whatever. Come on. The photographer’s pissed. And I bet your fuck-buddy is, too. You know how he is about punctuality.”

“He should be fine. The reason I am late is because I just did him on the bathroom floor.”

“Sure… Well, let’s hope that works in our favour…” James led the way into the room, not seeing Matt glance back at the man who slid out the bathroom door slyly along the corridor. Matt smirked to himself before following James in. Some people didn’t hear the truth even when it was said right to their face…