(no subject)
Story: Visible Chapter Eight
Summary: Five Years after Superstar (which you totally don’t have to read to get this) Justin is an art director in Hollywood and Brian is a legitimate actor. He gets a role on a new Fox series entitled “Vanished” and he and Justin are in LA together.
Warnings: NC-17 (‘cause it’s Brian and Justin.) Light BDSM (‘cause it’s Vamphile fiction)
Disclaimers: I know jack shit about making a television show, being an art director, acting, etc. Also, I don’t own these characters…I don’t even technically own my car. Oh and the real people mentioned. They're rich, and pretty, and famous. I don't know them and I’m sure this isn't at all what they do with their free time.
Based on a plot bunny by happier_bunny
Banner graphic by xie_xie_xie and a friend of hers.
It's A short chapter.
Visible
Chapter Eight
I wake up because he’s not in bed. It’s fucking weird. We go months without even being in the same state and within days I can feel his presence in bed when I’m asleep.
I turn it off when we’re apart. It’s easier. It should be difficult but it isn’t. I work. I sleep just fine, thanks. I work out. I hang out. I fuck other people. I talk to him on the phone. And then we’re together again and it’s like we’ve never been apart…well, except for the first couple of days when his hair is tickling my shoulder or his leg is over mine and I wake up wondering who the fuck I forgot to kick out. It goes away fast though. Day or two tops.
Now I know he’s not here. I walk out of the bedroom and there he is, biting his thumbnail, laptop resting on his thigh, and he’s got a piece of paper in his hand. Shit. He must have grabbed it off the fax. I knew Danny was sending it over today for my approval… I wanted to give him a little warning. Too late. He’s gearing up for a serious queen out.
I need coffee. It’s five in the morning and I have to be on set by nine. We’re not gonna be getting back to sleep anytime soon from the way he’s trying to eat his thumbnail. He’s frowning and I fucking know he knows I’m here but he’s not acknowledging.
Coffee. Then all the rest of this. Can’t do this without coffee.
I watch him while it brews. I’m not bringing him any. I’m not fueling his manic little episode. He’ll get over it. He’s strong. He gets over shit like this. But then again…what the fuck does it say? I haven’t read it yet.
I pour myself some and sit down next to him. I lean over his shoulder to read the press release and run my fingers through his hair, pulling the blonde fringe off his forehead. He doesn’t lean back into my touch. He’s so tense he’s vibrating. This. Is. Not. Good.
I read it.
Nothing we didn’t know. Chaz fixed the paperwork. I didn’t know he wasn’t twenty-one. We had an on set fling. We remained friends. Now we’re in a….
Oh shit.
“Justin.”
“Brian it can’t go out like this.”
“It has to.”
“Not this part.”
“Not my first choice either but…”
“Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor are currently living together and in a committed relationship.” He quotes
I try not to flinch. I really do. He feels it anyway.
“You can’t hear me say it. How the fuck are you going to feel when it’s everywhere, and quoted and then they have a picture of you fucking someone else and now I’m the abandoned lover and you’re back to being the asshole stud. And then…”
He’s standing now…I almost tried to hold him down… pointless. He’s pacing. He stops long enough to light a cigarette.
“Thought we weren’t supposed to smoke in the house.”
“Fuck it, you cheated on me. I can smoke.”
“When did I do that?”
“Um, every time you fucked someone else. We’re in a ‘committed relationship’.” He uses those air quotes. I’m trying not to laugh but it’s just words on paper. We know what we are.
“It doesn’t say monogamous.”
“People assume that, Brian. And they won’t accept anything else. And once you get caught fucking everything that moves you’re gonna get bullshit for being gay and having some sort of obligation to the entire gay community and letting them down by not being able to keep your dick in your pants, which, by the way, you can’t.”
I’d be really pissed at him if he weren’t right, on both counts. But I don’t need to keep my dick in my pants. That’s why we’re still together. Well, that and I kind of love this kid, but yeah, that’s another issue entirely.
“Justin.” I try to keep my voice low, soothing. He turns and glares at me. Whoops.
“Brian?” His voice is taunting. He’s waiting for me to contradict him. I can’t. “We can just lie.”
“You always said…”
“It’s not lying if they make you lie.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So we play boyfriends, committed boyfriends, for a couple of months, the world forgets and life goes on.”
“You want to be monogamous for a couple of months?”
“No.”
“Well me neither.”
“So do I get to be the scorned housewife?”
“Pfft. They’ll call me an immature kid and think you can do better.”
“They wouldn’t be wrong.”
Good thing I saw that coming. Would have hurt if that bottle actually had hit me in the head. It clunks onto the sisal rug and I pick it up and put the almost empty SoBe on the coffee table. Fuck, it’s a SoBe power… those things are like fucking meth amphetamines to him. No wonder he’s flying. I open my mouth to say something but he’s staring at me pretty intently.
“What?”
“Let’s break up.”
“What?”
“You move out, we’re not together. Then we can fuck whomever we want and still have dinner all the time, they’ll assume we’re talking about reconciling.”
It’s not a bad plan except… “I don’t want to.”
“Yes you do.”
“Not particularly. Moving’s exhausting.”
“But…”
“We’ll fake it Justin. We’ve been discrete before.”
“When?”
Fuck. He’s got a really good point. Um, “we must have been. Once.”
“Not even when my mother wanted me to come home.”
“Well, you went home.”
He flinched, fuck. “Justin.” I’m gonna try that soothing thing again. I wish I could do it the way he does. He actually soothes. I just sound like I’m trying to fuck him.
“Brian don’t. I’m not gonna be fucked out of this mood.”
See what I mean?
“We could confuse them all.”
He’s interested now. “How?”
“Stay together. Fuck whomever we want. Not say a fucking word.”
“Won’t one, or both of us look like an asshole?”
“Aren’t we both?”
“Oh yeah.”
“So we’ll just…”
“Nothing changes.”
I nod and he’s walking towards me. He’s still wired but maybe he’s ready to be fucked out of his bad mood. I’m kissing him and his hands are running through my hair and the fax machine starts spitting out sheets of paper. He doesn’t stop kissing me but he reaches over and looks with one eye. He pulls away. Fuck.
“Um, something might change.”
“What?”
“Danny wants to know if we’ll get married.”
“To him?”
Okay, that time I deserved to get hit.
“He thinks we could make some kind of statement.
“Here’s one. Fuck. Marriage.”
He nods but he’s thinking. That’s dangerous. I take the paper from him and put it to the side. “No.”
“I know. I just… I wish there were a way out of this that didn’t involve us ending up the poster boys for bad queers.”
“Fuck it. Isn’t it time that some famous fag somewhere actually got laid?”
“Is that what you want to be. The first famous fag with a sex life?”
If I had to be famous for something… I nod and he smiles. “So nothing changes?”
“Unless you want to wear matching Vera Wangs and then die a slow death together.”
“I’ll pass. But we are gonna have to be more careful.”
“Fine. No more fucking you in the prop warehouse.”
Ouch. That one hurt. He’s been working out. “Not me you freak. The tricks.”
“Oh. Those. Yeah, I’ll go to the valley.”
“You will not. You hate driving in that traffic.”
“I’ll keep it off the lot.”
“Actually…”
The wheels are turning. He’s fucking adorable when he thinks he’s got a master plan. I’m not about to tell him that. He’s in a violent mood and he hates when I call him adorable. I’m just watching. He’s biting his lower lip, and lighting a cigarette even though there’s one burning in the ashtray. His plan has levels. He’d better check with me first this time.
Last time his plan got complicated he moved to LA. I’m waiting. He’s thinking. I’m a sick fuck, on my third cup of coffee, and I seriously want to fuck him right now. I want to stop that twisted little brain from coming up with something that’s gonna make life more difficult but then… it might work. His plans do sometimes.
“Don’t go off the lot.”
“Huh?” I know, brilliant. But I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
“The studio has a vested interest in keeping what and who their stars do quiet. You have to stick to people on the Fox lot.”
“Fuck that.”
“Brian this could work.”
“There aren’t enough hot guys on the lot. There aren’t enough guys on the lot period.”
He’s rolling his eyes and now I’m the one getting violent. Restrictions make me itchy.
“There’s plenty. But you’ve gotta stick to the stars. Crew is out.”
“Fuck that.”
“Brian, they won’t care if someone from the crew is seen with your dick in their mouth…but David Boreanez… they’re gonna hide that.”
“Like people don’t know he’s gay.”
“Keifer’s not bad.”
“You fuck him.”
“Maybe I will.”
“What about you. Do you have to stick to stars?”
“I’m not averse to going to the valley.”
“Justin…”
“I’m serious Brian.” And he is. He’s nodding and his eyes are wide and almost innocent and how can a wide eyed innocent twink be sitting across from me and telling me that my best bet to stay low profile is to only fuck high profile network stars? How does he manage that? His nodding is hypnotic. I’m nodding back…
“But only here.”
“Huh?”
“Here or on the set. Everywhere else is too dangerous for a while.”
“Danger makes it fun.”
“Not dangerous, someone might tie you to the bed and fuck you. Dangerous, someone might film the whole thing and sell it to Extra!”
“It’s dangerous to have someone tie you to the bed and fuck you?”
Fuck. Bad move. Wrong move. Wrong words. I suck at words. I should have shut up. I should have thought about something else.
I’m still thinking this while he’s dragging me back to the bedroom. He’s rattling off a list of hot guys that are on his list of safe and acceptable options.
Safe and acceptable options for fucking should make my dick soft. His hands on my wrists pulling me. His hands on my hips pushing me back against the bed. Opposite effect.
“What about other networks?”
“Only seriously high profile shows. “You can fuck Hugh Laurie!”
“You can fuck Hugh Laurie.”
“We can both fuck him. And Patrick Sean Leonard.”
“I’m not sure he’s gay.”
“We’ll turn him.”
“I laugh and my arms are tied to the bedposts. I should probably be putting up some kind of fight. I should show some sort of token resistance but he’s still talking and his eyes are dark and narrow as he thinks of more people I’m allowed to fuck. You know, if being in a ‘committed relationship’ means there’s a hot blonde twink tying you to the bed, and listing the hot guys he’d get off on seeing you fuck… the hot guys he’s actually telling you to fuck… I can do this. I can be in a ‘committed relationship.’
“Jesse Spencer.”
“Who?”
“The Australian doctor on House.”
I nod. Not necessarily my type but I can put him on my B list.
He’s licking my neck now and whispering star names like they’re dirty words and Jesus Christ how the fuck can his brain still work when his tongue is doing that?
Oh right, it’s my brain that’s short-circuiting. I want to pull him up and kiss him but I can’t. My arms are stretched out and I’m pretty helpless. This would normally piss me off but it’s not like I don’t fucking trust him. And it’s not like he doesn’t know payback’s a bitch and…fuck it. I’m done thinking, like I have a fucking choice.
He’s crawling up my body and I fucking hate that my hands are tied. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to roll him over and cover him with my body. I’m not gonna do that though, well, because my hands are tied.
He’s kissing me and I can taste the cigarettes. He really needs to quit. So do I. That would probably kill us faster than the cigarettes though. He gets cranky when he has to deny himself something he wants. He was cranky the last year of college. He loved it but he was ready to move on. That’s when the LA plan happened.
Turned out to be good for the both of us. Could have been a fucking disaster. Almost was. Kid loves danger. Have I mentioned that? He loves trouble. Loves to just go running around in it like is a fucking summer shower. Great. I’m the one who’s always standing there with a dry towel and an umbrella though.
This plan. It might work. His plans have gotten better. He’s sucking on my neck. If he leaves a mark I will have to kill him. He moves lower. He’s not that stupid. All marks go below the neckline. And he’s biting, and I’m trying to grit my teeth and not moan. I’m better at not moaning than he is. Doesn’t mean I’m perfect. He looks up at me and smiles. He fucking loves this. I fucking love this… sometimes.
His hands are soft, gentle but each touch is deliberate. He’s sliding them up my calves now, slowly, kneading the muscles and then he does this thing, he strokes the back of my knee and it sends chills up one side of my body. Only one side, it’s fucking freakish, and hot, and he’s the only person who’s ever found that particular erogenous zone. Then again…he’s the only person who can turn my entire body into one.
He’s… Justin. There just aren’t words. He’s licking at my thighs. Nibbling the skin and I’m trying to move to direct him a little closer to my cock, or actually directly to my cock but he’s not ready and he’s running the show. My legs are longer than his. I could squeeze my things, wrap my legs around his waist and pull him up… but in the end…he’ll just tie my fucking ankles down too and then this might take longer.
So I bend my knees and wrap my legs around his waist and his smile gets almost evil as he pulls the restrains from under the bed and I groan and drop my head back to the pillow and pretend that I didn’t see that coming.
He’s walking around the bed now. Running a hand along my side. I’m spread-eagled and I can’t do this to him. The bed’s too big. He wouldn’t reach… but we have other ways and it works and I’m still thinking and he can see that. He’s sort of standing over me and he looks like he’s trying to decide what to do next. He’s such a lousy actor. He’s known what he was gonna do since before he pulled me into the bedroom. I’ll let him pretend. He’s cute when he thinks he’s in charge.
He turns off the lights and then blindfolds me and this I DID NOT see coming. And now I can’t see a thing. I feel him again. He’s on top of me. I can smell him. I can still taste him. I can’t fucking see him. He’s straddling my waist. His weight resting on his knees, not my stomach. His ass is too far away from my dick. He needs to fix that.
“Your ass is too far away from my dick. You need to fix that.”
He laughs and I know I’m totally fucked. He’s pissed off about Danny’s proposal of a proposal. He’s worried that I’m gonna get seriously bored if I have to go low profile and he’s horny. Oh, and hopped up on that SoBe shit. I feel him shimmy up my torso. His thighs are on either side of my chest and he’s leaning in.
His cock drips a little onto my lips and I run my tongue out to taste it. To taste him.
“Open up for me.”
He’s pressed against my lips now and I keep them closed just to play with him.
He slides the head along my mouth and I want to taste him. I want to suck him. I want to fucking see him. I can’t and I’ll be dammed if I’m gonna ask him to take the damn things off. I’m hard and I swear I’m gonna come just from the feel of him brushing against my lips. I open my mouth and he slides into it. He’s being careful and I don’t want him to be right now. I suck harder, giving him the go ahead and he’s fucking my mouth, thrusting into me. Hitting the back of my throat and I have a single mission in life at the moment and that is to make him come.
I feel it building. I feel the rhythm change. I can hear his breathing. I think he’s gripping the back of the headboard over my head and I close my lips tight and flatten my tongue as he pulls out and he’s moaning and I make sure to press hard on the slit before he pulls out completely. He almost loses it. I felt it. I heard it in his gasp. But now he’s moved back to my waist. His hands are running along my chest. He’s twisting my nipples hard.
I arch into his touch. My entire body is sensitized to his touch and nothing else. And then I smell leather. God I want to be able to see. It’s soft. It’s that stupid useless cat that I sent him as a joke once. It’s a heady smell though and he’s running it along my chest, and then he’s running it along my thighs. And then he’s moving. He’s turned around and his ass is hovering over my face. He’s still hard and I want my hands back so much I think I might break the headboard. I want to grab his hips and plunge my tongue into him. I’m bucking up towards the soft feel of leather running over my leaking cock. And I can smell him and I feel the warmth of his body as he lowers himself over my face.
My tongue reaches out to taste him and he moans as I lick at him. It’s not the leather that’s tickling me now. It’s his hair.
I inhale sharply and keep licking at his hole while he makes small swirls on the head of my cock with his tongue.
I want to thrust up and fuck his face but I can’t. He’s leaning over my chest, his hands pressing against my thighs and he lowers himself onto my tongue. Fucking himself on it while he sucks hard at the head of my cock and I’m gonna come down his throat in a second and then he better untie me because I’m going to fuck him into the mattress until we’re both too sore to think about working…and then we’ll go to work and face the rest of the bullshit but first…I need to come.
He’s deep throating me now and he’s thrusting his ass into my face. He’s jerking himself off, I can feel his hand move against my chest and it starts. I don’t to hold back. I don’t want to wait. I want to feel him gasping his own pleasure onto me while I’m coming. And he does. And I do. And then he’s laying on me. His feet are on my shoulders and his face is on my thigh and while it’s not uncomfortable…my arms are still tied and I can’t see anything. He moves his foot flicking the blindfold off with his toe. I hate when he does monkey shit with his toes. I’d tickle his foot… if I could use my fucking hands.
He takes another minute. I feel his breath start to slow and then he’s pulling off of me. Our sweat making both of us sticky. He unties my ankles first. And then my wrists and then I’m holding him. I kiss him and taste myself. His smile is like a fucking beacon in the dark room.
I’m running my hands down his back and then they’re on his ass and his head is resting on my shoulder. He’s grinding against me and we’re gearing up for round two.
“So”, I whisper in his ear, “what’s the verdict on stars from other networks?”
He laughs into my neck and he’s getting hard again. I’m not even gonna look at the clock but I know we’re gonna be late getting to work this morning.
Summary: Five Years after Superstar (which you totally don’t have to read to get this) Justin is an art director in Hollywood and Brian is a legitimate actor. He gets a role on a new Fox series entitled “Vanished” and he and Justin are in LA together.
Warnings: NC-17 (‘cause it’s Brian and Justin.) Light BDSM (‘cause it’s Vamphile fiction)
Disclaimers: I know jack shit about making a television show, being an art director, acting, etc. Also, I don’t own these characters…I don’t even technically own my car. Oh and the real people mentioned. They're rich, and pretty, and famous. I don't know them and I’m sure this isn't at all what they do with their free time.
Based on a plot bunny by happier_bunny
Banner graphic by xie_xie_xie and a friend of hers.
It's A short chapter.
Visible
Chapter Eight
I wake up because he’s not in bed. It’s fucking weird. We go months without even being in the same state and within days I can feel his presence in bed when I’m asleep.
I turn it off when we’re apart. It’s easier. It should be difficult but it isn’t. I work. I sleep just fine, thanks. I work out. I hang out. I fuck other people. I talk to him on the phone. And then we’re together again and it’s like we’ve never been apart…well, except for the first couple of days when his hair is tickling my shoulder or his leg is over mine and I wake up wondering who the fuck I forgot to kick out. It goes away fast though. Day or two tops.
Now I know he’s not here. I walk out of the bedroom and there he is, biting his thumbnail, laptop resting on his thigh, and he’s got a piece of paper in his hand. Shit. He must have grabbed it off the fax. I knew Danny was sending it over today for my approval… I wanted to give him a little warning. Too late. He’s gearing up for a serious queen out.
I need coffee. It’s five in the morning and I have to be on set by nine. We’re not gonna be getting back to sleep anytime soon from the way he’s trying to eat his thumbnail. He’s frowning and I fucking know he knows I’m here but he’s not acknowledging.
Coffee. Then all the rest of this. Can’t do this without coffee.
I watch him while it brews. I’m not bringing him any. I’m not fueling his manic little episode. He’ll get over it. He’s strong. He gets over shit like this. But then again…what the fuck does it say? I haven’t read it yet.
I pour myself some and sit down next to him. I lean over his shoulder to read the press release and run my fingers through his hair, pulling the blonde fringe off his forehead. He doesn’t lean back into my touch. He’s so tense he’s vibrating. This. Is. Not. Good.
I read it.
Nothing we didn’t know. Chaz fixed the paperwork. I didn’t know he wasn’t twenty-one. We had an on set fling. We remained friends. Now we’re in a….
Oh shit.
“Justin.”
“Brian it can’t go out like this.”
“It has to.”
“Not this part.”
“Not my first choice either but…”
“Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor are currently living together and in a committed relationship.” He quotes
I try not to flinch. I really do. He feels it anyway.
“You can’t hear me say it. How the fuck are you going to feel when it’s everywhere, and quoted and then they have a picture of you fucking someone else and now I’m the abandoned lover and you’re back to being the asshole stud. And then…”
He’s standing now…I almost tried to hold him down… pointless. He’s pacing. He stops long enough to light a cigarette.
“Thought we weren’t supposed to smoke in the house.”
“Fuck it, you cheated on me. I can smoke.”
“When did I do that?”
“Um, every time you fucked someone else. We’re in a ‘committed relationship’.” He uses those air quotes. I’m trying not to laugh but it’s just words on paper. We know what we are.
“It doesn’t say monogamous.”
“People assume that, Brian. And they won’t accept anything else. And once you get caught fucking everything that moves you’re gonna get bullshit for being gay and having some sort of obligation to the entire gay community and letting them down by not being able to keep your dick in your pants, which, by the way, you can’t.”
I’d be really pissed at him if he weren’t right, on both counts. But I don’t need to keep my dick in my pants. That’s why we’re still together. Well, that and I kind of love this kid, but yeah, that’s another issue entirely.
“Justin.” I try to keep my voice low, soothing. He turns and glares at me. Whoops.
“Brian?” His voice is taunting. He’s waiting for me to contradict him. I can’t. “We can just lie.”
“You always said…”
“It’s not lying if they make you lie.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So we play boyfriends, committed boyfriends, for a couple of months, the world forgets and life goes on.”
“You want to be monogamous for a couple of months?”
“No.”
“Well me neither.”
“So do I get to be the scorned housewife?”
“Pfft. They’ll call me an immature kid and think you can do better.”
“They wouldn’t be wrong.”
Good thing I saw that coming. Would have hurt if that bottle actually had hit me in the head. It clunks onto the sisal rug and I pick it up and put the almost empty SoBe on the coffee table. Fuck, it’s a SoBe power… those things are like fucking meth amphetamines to him. No wonder he’s flying. I open my mouth to say something but he’s staring at me pretty intently.
“What?”
“Let’s break up.”
“What?”
“You move out, we’re not together. Then we can fuck whomever we want and still have dinner all the time, they’ll assume we’re talking about reconciling.”
It’s not a bad plan except… “I don’t want to.”
“Yes you do.”
“Not particularly. Moving’s exhausting.”
“But…”
“We’ll fake it Justin. We’ve been discrete before.”
“When?”
Fuck. He’s got a really good point. Um, “we must have been. Once.”
“Not even when my mother wanted me to come home.”
“Well, you went home.”
He flinched, fuck. “Justin.” I’m gonna try that soothing thing again. I wish I could do it the way he does. He actually soothes. I just sound like I’m trying to fuck him.
“Brian don’t. I’m not gonna be fucked out of this mood.”
See what I mean?
“We could confuse them all.”
He’s interested now. “How?”
“Stay together. Fuck whomever we want. Not say a fucking word.”
“Won’t one, or both of us look like an asshole?”
“Aren’t we both?”
“Oh yeah.”
“So we’ll just…”
“Nothing changes.”
I nod and he’s walking towards me. He’s still wired but maybe he’s ready to be fucked out of his bad mood. I’m kissing him and his hands are running through my hair and the fax machine starts spitting out sheets of paper. He doesn’t stop kissing me but he reaches over and looks with one eye. He pulls away. Fuck.
“Um, something might change.”
“What?”
“Danny wants to know if we’ll get married.”
“To him?”
Okay, that time I deserved to get hit.
“He thinks we could make some kind of statement.
“Here’s one. Fuck. Marriage.”
He nods but he’s thinking. That’s dangerous. I take the paper from him and put it to the side. “No.”
“I know. I just… I wish there were a way out of this that didn’t involve us ending up the poster boys for bad queers.”
“Fuck it. Isn’t it time that some famous fag somewhere actually got laid?”
“Is that what you want to be. The first famous fag with a sex life?”
If I had to be famous for something… I nod and he smiles. “So nothing changes?”
“Unless you want to wear matching Vera Wangs and then die a slow death together.”
“I’ll pass. But we are gonna have to be more careful.”
“Fine. No more fucking you in the prop warehouse.”
Ouch. That one hurt. He’s been working out. “Not me you freak. The tricks.”
“Oh. Those. Yeah, I’ll go to the valley.”
“You will not. You hate driving in that traffic.”
“I’ll keep it off the lot.”
“Actually…”
The wheels are turning. He’s fucking adorable when he thinks he’s got a master plan. I’m not about to tell him that. He’s in a violent mood and he hates when I call him adorable. I’m just watching. He’s biting his lower lip, and lighting a cigarette even though there’s one burning in the ashtray. His plan has levels. He’d better check with me first this time.
Last time his plan got complicated he moved to LA. I’m waiting. He’s thinking. I’m a sick fuck, on my third cup of coffee, and I seriously want to fuck him right now. I want to stop that twisted little brain from coming up with something that’s gonna make life more difficult but then… it might work. His plans do sometimes.
“Don’t go off the lot.”
“Huh?” I know, brilliant. But I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
“The studio has a vested interest in keeping what and who their stars do quiet. You have to stick to people on the Fox lot.”
“Fuck that.”
“Brian this could work.”
“There aren’t enough hot guys on the lot. There aren’t enough guys on the lot period.”
He’s rolling his eyes and now I’m the one getting violent. Restrictions make me itchy.
“There’s plenty. But you’ve gotta stick to the stars. Crew is out.”
“Fuck that.”
“Brian, they won’t care if someone from the crew is seen with your dick in their mouth…but David Boreanez… they’re gonna hide that.”
“Like people don’t know he’s gay.”
“Keifer’s not bad.”
“You fuck him.”
“Maybe I will.”
“What about you. Do you have to stick to stars?”
“I’m not averse to going to the valley.”
“Justin…”
“I’m serious Brian.” And he is. He’s nodding and his eyes are wide and almost innocent and how can a wide eyed innocent twink be sitting across from me and telling me that my best bet to stay low profile is to only fuck high profile network stars? How does he manage that? His nodding is hypnotic. I’m nodding back…
“But only here.”
“Huh?”
“Here or on the set. Everywhere else is too dangerous for a while.”
“Danger makes it fun.”
“Not dangerous, someone might tie you to the bed and fuck you. Dangerous, someone might film the whole thing and sell it to Extra!”
“It’s dangerous to have someone tie you to the bed and fuck you?”
Fuck. Bad move. Wrong move. Wrong words. I suck at words. I should have shut up. I should have thought about something else.
I’m still thinking this while he’s dragging me back to the bedroom. He’s rattling off a list of hot guys that are on his list of safe and acceptable options.
Safe and acceptable options for fucking should make my dick soft. His hands on my wrists pulling me. His hands on my hips pushing me back against the bed. Opposite effect.
“What about other networks?”
“Only seriously high profile shows. “You can fuck Hugh Laurie!”
“You can fuck Hugh Laurie.”
“We can both fuck him. And Patrick Sean Leonard.”
“I’m not sure he’s gay.”
“We’ll turn him.”
“I laugh and my arms are tied to the bedposts. I should probably be putting up some kind of fight. I should show some sort of token resistance but he’s still talking and his eyes are dark and narrow as he thinks of more people I’m allowed to fuck. You know, if being in a ‘committed relationship’ means there’s a hot blonde twink tying you to the bed, and listing the hot guys he’d get off on seeing you fuck… the hot guys he’s actually telling you to fuck… I can do this. I can be in a ‘committed relationship.’
“Jesse Spencer.”
“Who?”
“The Australian doctor on House.”
I nod. Not necessarily my type but I can put him on my B list.
He’s licking my neck now and whispering star names like they’re dirty words and Jesus Christ how the fuck can his brain still work when his tongue is doing that?
Oh right, it’s my brain that’s short-circuiting. I want to pull him up and kiss him but I can’t. My arms are stretched out and I’m pretty helpless. This would normally piss me off but it’s not like I don’t fucking trust him. And it’s not like he doesn’t know payback’s a bitch and…fuck it. I’m done thinking, like I have a fucking choice.
He’s crawling up my body and I fucking hate that my hands are tied. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to roll him over and cover him with my body. I’m not gonna do that though, well, because my hands are tied.
He’s kissing me and I can taste the cigarettes. He really needs to quit. So do I. That would probably kill us faster than the cigarettes though. He gets cranky when he has to deny himself something he wants. He was cranky the last year of college. He loved it but he was ready to move on. That’s when the LA plan happened.
Turned out to be good for the both of us. Could have been a fucking disaster. Almost was. Kid loves danger. Have I mentioned that? He loves trouble. Loves to just go running around in it like is a fucking summer shower. Great. I’m the one who’s always standing there with a dry towel and an umbrella though.
This plan. It might work. His plans have gotten better. He’s sucking on my neck. If he leaves a mark I will have to kill him. He moves lower. He’s not that stupid. All marks go below the neckline. And he’s biting, and I’m trying to grit my teeth and not moan. I’m better at not moaning than he is. Doesn’t mean I’m perfect. He looks up at me and smiles. He fucking loves this. I fucking love this… sometimes.
His hands are soft, gentle but each touch is deliberate. He’s sliding them up my calves now, slowly, kneading the muscles and then he does this thing, he strokes the back of my knee and it sends chills up one side of my body. Only one side, it’s fucking freakish, and hot, and he’s the only person who’s ever found that particular erogenous zone. Then again…he’s the only person who can turn my entire body into one.
He’s… Justin. There just aren’t words. He’s licking at my thighs. Nibbling the skin and I’m trying to move to direct him a little closer to my cock, or actually directly to my cock but he’s not ready and he’s running the show. My legs are longer than his. I could squeeze my things, wrap my legs around his waist and pull him up… but in the end…he’ll just tie my fucking ankles down too and then this might take longer.
So I bend my knees and wrap my legs around his waist and his smile gets almost evil as he pulls the restrains from under the bed and I groan and drop my head back to the pillow and pretend that I didn’t see that coming.
He’s walking around the bed now. Running a hand along my side. I’m spread-eagled and I can’t do this to him. The bed’s too big. He wouldn’t reach… but we have other ways and it works and I’m still thinking and he can see that. He’s sort of standing over me and he looks like he’s trying to decide what to do next. He’s such a lousy actor. He’s known what he was gonna do since before he pulled me into the bedroom. I’ll let him pretend. He’s cute when he thinks he’s in charge.
He turns off the lights and then blindfolds me and this I DID NOT see coming. And now I can’t see a thing. I feel him again. He’s on top of me. I can smell him. I can still taste him. I can’t fucking see him. He’s straddling my waist. His weight resting on his knees, not my stomach. His ass is too far away from my dick. He needs to fix that.
“Your ass is too far away from my dick. You need to fix that.”
He laughs and I know I’m totally fucked. He’s pissed off about Danny’s proposal of a proposal. He’s worried that I’m gonna get seriously bored if I have to go low profile and he’s horny. Oh, and hopped up on that SoBe shit. I feel him shimmy up my torso. His thighs are on either side of my chest and he’s leaning in.
His cock drips a little onto my lips and I run my tongue out to taste it. To taste him.
“Open up for me.”
He’s pressed against my lips now and I keep them closed just to play with him.
He slides the head along my mouth and I want to taste him. I want to suck him. I want to fucking see him. I can’t and I’ll be dammed if I’m gonna ask him to take the damn things off. I’m hard and I swear I’m gonna come just from the feel of him brushing against my lips. I open my mouth and he slides into it. He’s being careful and I don’t want him to be right now. I suck harder, giving him the go ahead and he’s fucking my mouth, thrusting into me. Hitting the back of my throat and I have a single mission in life at the moment and that is to make him come.
I feel it building. I feel the rhythm change. I can hear his breathing. I think he’s gripping the back of the headboard over my head and I close my lips tight and flatten my tongue as he pulls out and he’s moaning and I make sure to press hard on the slit before he pulls out completely. He almost loses it. I felt it. I heard it in his gasp. But now he’s moved back to my waist. His hands are running along my chest. He’s twisting my nipples hard.
I arch into his touch. My entire body is sensitized to his touch and nothing else. And then I smell leather. God I want to be able to see. It’s soft. It’s that stupid useless cat that I sent him as a joke once. It’s a heady smell though and he’s running it along my chest, and then he’s running it along my thighs. And then he’s moving. He’s turned around and his ass is hovering over my face. He’s still hard and I want my hands back so much I think I might break the headboard. I want to grab his hips and plunge my tongue into him. I’m bucking up towards the soft feel of leather running over my leaking cock. And I can smell him and I feel the warmth of his body as he lowers himself over my face.
My tongue reaches out to taste him and he moans as I lick at him. It’s not the leather that’s tickling me now. It’s his hair.
I inhale sharply and keep licking at his hole while he makes small swirls on the head of my cock with his tongue.
I want to thrust up and fuck his face but I can’t. He’s leaning over my chest, his hands pressing against my thighs and he lowers himself onto my tongue. Fucking himself on it while he sucks hard at the head of my cock and I’m gonna come down his throat in a second and then he better untie me because I’m going to fuck him into the mattress until we’re both too sore to think about working…and then we’ll go to work and face the rest of the bullshit but first…I need to come.
He’s deep throating me now and he’s thrusting his ass into my face. He’s jerking himself off, I can feel his hand move against my chest and it starts. I don’t to hold back. I don’t want to wait. I want to feel him gasping his own pleasure onto me while I’m coming. And he does. And I do. And then he’s laying on me. His feet are on my shoulders and his face is on my thigh and while it’s not uncomfortable…my arms are still tied and I can’t see anything. He moves his foot flicking the blindfold off with his toe. I hate when he does monkey shit with his toes. I’d tickle his foot… if I could use my fucking hands.
He takes another minute. I feel his breath start to slow and then he’s pulling off of me. Our sweat making both of us sticky. He unties my ankles first. And then my wrists and then I’m holding him. I kiss him and taste myself. His smile is like a fucking beacon in the dark room.
I’m running my hands down his back and then they’re on his ass and his head is resting on my shoulder. He’s grinding against me and we’re gearing up for round two.
“So”, I whisper in his ear, “what’s the verdict on stars from other networks?”
He laughs into my neck and he’s getting hard again. I’m not even gonna look at the clock but I know we’re gonna be late getting to work this morning.