Lights Never Shine as Bright as in the Movies -- part one of four
Brendon throws his arms up over his head and clings tightly to the headboard, gasping and moaning as Travis fucks him hard and deep. He's seeing stars behind his closed eyelids and his hips are rocking uncontrollably and he knows, he just fucking knows he's close. The sounds coming out of his mouth are desperate and he can't hold them back, even when he bites down on his swollen lower lip in an attempt to keep himself quiet.
"Close," he gasps, then whimpers when he feels Travis' large hand wrap around his cock and jerk him in time to his thrusts. "Oh, fuck," he chokes out as his body shudders and he comes, feeling the droplets land on his stomach and chest. Travis keeps stroking him through it, and Brendon keeps shaking, keeps arching up to meet Travis' thrusts, and he's a little disappointed when Travis pulls out and starts jerking off over him. Travis' come pelts his skin, paints him from his cock all the way up to his collarbones, and Brendon gasps for breath and covers his face with his hands and laughs softly.
"Oh, shit," says Travis, crashing down on the best next to him. "Christ, you're a hot fuck," Travis says, and Brendon grins, tipping his head to the side and opening his eyes. Travis is grinning back at him, and Brendon tips his head up for a kiss.
"And we're good," says Shane from behind the camera.
Brendon gives him a thumbs-up and doesn't move, even as Travis gets up and heads towards the shower.
"So, Brendon, this is your seventh video and you've become one of SV's favorite models. You ever think you'd come this far when you did your first solo vid a year ago?"
Brendon opens his eyes and looks at Shane. "Are you still filming?" he asks.
"I'm interviewing you."
"I just got my brains fucked out," Brendon mumbles. "I can't think enough to be interviewed right now. Did you not see the giant dick that was in my ass just a minute ago?"
Shane laughs softly, and Brendon stretches as the camera pans over his body. "How's your ass feel?"
Brendon draws one of his legs up so Shane can see his hole. He slides his fingers over it, can feel how it's stretched and used. "Feels good," he says. He lets his leg drop, then stretches and sits up. "I so need a shower," he tells the camera with a grin.
The shower's nice, but he always wants to sleep after he comes. His thighs are shaky from holding his legs up for so long and after he dries off and dresses, he shuffles into Shane's office and collapses on the black leather couch. He's teased Shane many times about how tacky a black leather couch is in a porn producer's office.
"I'm depressed," he says as Shane comes into the office, cell phone to his ear.
Shane holds up one finger to let Brendon know he needs to hang on, then continues his phone conversation, something about consent forms and the necessity of several forms of ID and blah, blah, blah. Brendon tunes him out and shifts on the couch so he's staring up at Shane's ceiling.
"I'm depressed," he says again once Shane's conversation is over.
"You're not depressed. You're never depressed."
"I'm a little depressed." He sighs to emphasize his point.
"You got home early last night and went right to your room. Date turn out to be shitty?"
Brendon sighs again.
"Do I have to find the guy and beat him up? Because I will. Well, unless he's bigger than me. Is he bigger than me?"
"A little bit, and no, you don't need to beat him up. It wasn't bad, it was just really, really boring. Like, there was no connection at all."
"I thought you said he was hot," Shane says, sitting down in front of his computer and clicking a few things.
"He was hot."
"So what's the problem?"
"You're so shallow," Brendon says.
Shane looks up at him and grins brightly. "And?"
"I want there to be an actual connection. Not just, like, a physical one. I want. I don't know. Something."
"We're gay," Shane tells him. "And you know what the best thing about being gay is? We don't have to get fucking married and have kids. We can fuck whoever we want whenever we want."
Brendon shrugs. He and Shane have had this conversation before.
"Don't let society trick you into thinking that you have to find your fucking soul mate to be happy. Soul mates don't exist or, if they do, they're your best friends, not your fucks."
"I don't have any good friends," Brendon tells him. "Except for you."
"Exactly," Shane tells him. "We're soul mates who don't fuck."
Brendon shrugs again and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn't think Shane's right, but sometimes he just gets tired of arguing with him. "Do you mind if I take a nap here?" he asks.
"You know I don't. Want me to put the TV on?"
"Please." Brendon closes his eyes as he hears Shane's television click on. It's just some stupid soap opera, but the background noise lulls him to sleep.
**********
Brendon and Shane had been roommates for over a year when Shane had said, "I think I'm going to start a porn website."
"You have fun with that," Brendon'd said, not looking up from his psychology textbook.
"No, seriously. I love making movies. I love designing websites. I love porn. I'm going to combine all my loves into the best porn site ever and live the dream."
"Mmm-hmm," had been Brendon's only response, and he'd forgotten about it after a while.
He'd forgotten it completely until one day Shane had said, "So, um, I'm going to be making porn in the living room tomorrow."
Brendon had laughed until he realized that Shane was serious. "Wait," he'd said. "You're serious? Like, really serious?"
"Yeah. I got a company set up and I've bought the domain name and I've got a crew and a startup loan."
"Wow. You're. Dude. I thought you were kidding."
Shane had grinned at him. "Serious as a heart attack. Or, really, serious as some hotass UNLV studs jerking off in the living room tomorrow. You can hang out and watch if you want."
Brendon had smirked and shook his head. "No, thanks, I think I'll just hang out at the library all day." He'd still thought it was a ridiculous idea, had thought it would be terrible until two days later when Shane said, "Will you look at a rough cut of the first video?"
Brendon had sat down in front of Shane's computer with a bowl full of veggie stir-fry and low expectations. Ten minutes into the rough cut, he'd said, "Um, yeah, that's. I think I need to go jerk off, now."
"Can I film it?" Shane had asked.
"No. Fuck you. Fuck, that's hot."
The internet had found the videos just as hot as Brendon did, and within six months Shane was doing the porn thing full time with a rotation of seven or eight guys starring in his videos.
"I just filled a void, that's all," he said to Brendon one night over vegan chili. "There just weren't any sites out there catering to guys who like to watch straight college boys fuck each other. It's so obvious, really, the whole straight thing, I'm surprised I got there first."
"It's called 'The Shane Valdes College Spectacular,'" Brendon said. "I think anything with 'spectacular' in the name is automatically queer."
After a year, Shane bought a house that he turned into a studio. He had one of the bedrooms made up to look like a locker room and one made up to look like a frat house and it was ridiculous, really, the kind of bank he was making.
"You should do a video for me," Shane said. He said it a lot, and Brendon usually ignored him. "I mean it. You've got a killer body, you love being naked, you're vocal as hell, you'd be amazing. Just a solo vid. And if you don't like the final cut, I won't put it up."
"If I do one solo vid will you stop bugging me about it?" Brendon had asked.
"Probably not," Shane admitted.
Brendon laughed and grinned at him. He did like being naked, and he liked jerking off, and he was kind of an exhibitionist, so what the hell. "One solo vid," he told Shane. "And then you stop pestering me for at least six months."
"Scout's honor," Shane had said, even though he'd never been a boy scout.
Filming the video had been easy. It was just Shane with a camera, asking Brendon questions about sex and what he liked, how he felt being naked, that sort of thing. Then Brendon had jerked off and put on a show while he did it, like he would with a boyfriend watching him touch himself. It had been easy and had taken less than an afternoon and when he watched the final cut, he'd had to admit that it was hot.
"The copy is lame," Brendon said, looking over Shane's shoulder. Brendon's the newest stud to join the SV family, and boy are we ever lucky to have him! This seemingly sweet and innocent 21 year-old is a secret horndog who loves to show off for the camera. "Horndog?" Brendon asked. "Really?"
"The copy's always lame," Shane told him. "Lame copy works on porn sites. What do you think?"
"Post it," Brendon said.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. It was kind of fun, actually. Now I can always tell people I have a dark secret life as a porn star."
All the fan mail had been a nice surprise.
**********
After Brendon wakes up from his nap in Shane's office, he heads to campus to get some practice in before his lessons. He's gone over the last two pages of the Chopin Etude he's working on before he gets distracted because there's an actual marimba in his practice room. He doesn't know whose it is or why it's there, but it's a marimba and it's got mallets just resting there across the keys, taunting him.
He finally gives up on the Chopin and starts to play around on the marimba, nothing in particular, just a sort of ragtime tune he's got in his head that seems to fit with the sound of the instrument. Then he decides to play the Chopin Etude on the marimba, even though he doesn't have all the octaves he needs. It's kind of fun to see how quickly he can rewrite the music in his head as he plays.
He looks up with a grin as the door opens, expecting it to be one of his students. He sometimes loses track of time and they have to come find him. Instead of Katie, though, it's one of the percussion graduate students. Brendon thinks his name is Bob. He's big and blonde and a little bit scary.
"Um," says Brendon, laying the mallets down gently. "So putting a marimba in my practice room? You're practically begging me to play it."
"Show off," says Bob. He says it with a grin, but Brendon's not sure if it's a real grin or the kind meant to mask annoyance. Then he shuts the door again.
Brendon looks at the marimba longingly, but he knows how percussionists are about their instruments, so he goes back to the piano and practices some more. At four o'clock he heads down to the hallway where the undergraduate practice rooms are. He peers into the window of room 131 and sees Katie, one of his freshmen, diligently practicing her sonatina, tongue between her lips.
"You're improving a lot," he tells her, because she is. He winces a little bit as he sits down on the bench next to her to demonstrate the correct fingering, but she doesn't seem to notice. Shane tells him a sore ass is just the price he has to pay for being in porn, and Brendon doesn't really mind. It's not like he's getting any anywhere else.
A little less than a month after the shoot with Travis goes up on the site, Shane says, "You interested in any more work?"
Brendon shrugs. He's got a German test in two days that he's a little worried about.
"One of William's friends is coming in from Chicago next week," Shane explains. "If his solo shoot goes well, he's agreed to try some oral."
Brendon perks up at that. "Is he actually straight or just straight on camera?"
"Actually straight. Actual girlfriend and everything, according to William. Never even gotten a handjob from a guy."
"Nice," says Brendon. He has kind of a thing for blowing straight boys, loves that moment when they stop being so nervous and just give in to how good it feels. "You can totally count me in."
Two days later, he's sitting on one of the fake beds in Shane's house in Summerlin. Brendon fucking loves the fact that Shane's giant porno mansion is in Summerlin, a town where the fifties never ended, they just got more environmentally friendly. He loves that he grew up not ten minutes from where Shane's porn empire is thriving.
He's sitting on the bed next to a guy named Jon who's so adorable, Brendon kind of wants to keep him in his pocket. He's obviously nervous and he's blushing even though Shane's still just setting up the lights.
"So," Brendon says conversationally, lounging back on the bed and propping himself on his elbows. "Here's my advice. Take deep breaths, close your eyes, and think of England."
Jon seems startled by his own laughter. "I, um," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm a little nervous."
"Don't be," says Brendon. "It's just sex."
Jon rolls his eyes. "That's kind of the part I'm worried about."
"You guys getting started without me?" Shane asks from behind the camera.
Brendon grins at him and schools his features into his most innocent expression. "Without you? Never."
The shoot goes well. Jon really is nervous at first, and it takes a few minutes for Brendon to get him hard. Once that hurdle's out of the way, Brendon just closes his eyes and enjoys it. He loves the feel of cock heavy on his tongue, loves the soft noises Jon's trying to keep in. When Brendon takes him down to the root, Jon gasps and says, "Oh God, oh God," over and over again, and from that point his hips start to roll and that's it, the moment Brendon loves, when it stops being about getting filmed with a guy sucking your dick and just turns into Jon enjoying the way Brendon makes him feel.
Jon flies out the next week, too, just for some promo shots for the site, and Brendon's surprised to see his girlfriend smiling and cheerful off to the side, talking cameras and lighting with Shane and giving Jon the thumbs up when he and Brendon get naked in the shower for some stills of them soaping each other up.
Jon's First Oral goes live that night, and Shane takes them out for sushi to celebrate.
"Any regrets?" Brendon asks, bumping Jon's foot with his over green tea ice cream.
"Not really," Jon says. "The only thing I was worried about was Cassie, and she was totally down with it, so." He shrugs.
"My man's so hot," Cassie says, laughing, slinging her arm around Jon's shoulder and kissing him hard on the cheek.
The party continues at Shane and Brendon's house. Brendon makes amazing margaritas, if he does say so himself. He passes out on the couch as Jon and Cassie stumble up the stairs towards the guest room and Shane's disappeared off with God knows who to do God knows what.
When his alarm goes off, Brendon reaches out to hit snooze, but no matter how many times he tries to find the clock, he can't. Then he opens his eyes and realizes it's the phone, not an alarm clock at all.
"Yeah?" Brendon answers, voice thick with sleep.
"One, you're a douche for not letting us know you were coming to Vegas," says the voice on the other end of the line. "And two, you broke Spencer."
"What?" Brendon sits up and rubs his eyes. "What time's it?"
"Four."
"In the morning? Who is this?"
"This is Ryan. Who's this?"
"Brendon, why are you, oh, hey, hold on." He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at it, then laughs. "This isn't even my phone. Whose phone is this?"
"Jon Walker's. Please tell me you don’t know whose phone it is because you just woke up from a giant gay orgy in which Jon Walker participated."
"Um, no. No, I was just asleep on the couch and the phone was on the coffee table. I think Jon and Cassie are probably still asleep in the guest room."
"Cassie's there?" Ryan asks. "Does she know about the gay porn? Please tell me she knows about the gay porn."
"I'm pretty sure she knows," Brendon says. "Who is this and how do you know?"
"Oh, right. I'm Ryan. Jon and I went to DePaul together, and I know about the gay porn because my best friend Spencer is broken. He logged on to his favorite website after a month in Croatia and what does he see? Jon Walker getting a blowjob."
"That was me giving the blowjob," Brendon says brightly.
"This is the best telephone conversation I've ever had in my entire life. Hey, Spencer, I'm talking to the guy who blew Jon on camera right this very second! He's not talking to me," the guy on the phone, Ryan, explains. "I think maybe he's catatonic. It's not every day you get on the computer and find out one of your best friends does gay porn."
"Well, actually," says Brendon, "my best friend runs the website, so I've gotten kind of used to it."
"Good point."
"What was Spencer doing in Croatia?"
"He's a wilderness photographer and he got hired by some magazine to do a really in depth shoot. Apparently, Croatia's fucking gorgeous. Who knew, right?"
"Seriously," says Brendon. He doesn't even know if he's seen a single picture of Croatia.
"Eastern Europe's Florida or some shit like that. It's all tropical with waterfalls, I guess. Anyway, he got home a few days ago, but I guess he didn't really get in any serious private time until last night. I was watching reruns of America's Next Top Model--"
"Oooh, what cycle?"
"Nine."
"That one was so boring, totally not enough cat fights."
"I know, right? And you can't even tell me that Jenah didn't deserve to win. Saleshia's cute, but totally not high fashion. What was I saying? Oh, right, so I'm watching TV and Spencer comes out into the living room and he's shaking and he tells me he just watched a video of Jon, our friend Jon, getting a blowjob. So then of course I had to watch it. Nice technique, by the way."
"Thanks."
"And Spencer's pretty much just been drinking ever since."
"Are you sure he's catatonic and not just drunk?"
"Good point. Hey, Spencer, are you just really drunk or should I call in the mental health professionals?" There's silence for a moment, then Ryan laughs. "He told me there's not enough bleach in the world for his brain and then he snuggled up to my hat rack and went to sleep, so, yeah. Really drunk. Speaking of which, do you know how long Jon's going to be in Vegas?"
"I think they're heading back to Chicago Sunday afternoon."
"Awesome. We're having a party Friday night. Is that tonight or tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night."
"Good. Spencer will be sober enough by then to get drunk again. We're having a party and tell Jon if he doesn't show up I'll send the link to Pete."
"Should I know who that is?"
"No. Just that if I sent the link to Pete, within 24 hours Jon's grandma will probably have a copy of his entire porn career on VHS hand delivered to her condo in Boca Raton."
"I'll have Jon call you," Brendon says, before they say their goodbyes and Brendon goes back to sleep.
He wakes up again to the scent of coffee. "Heaven, I smell heaven," he says, heaving himself up off the couch and stumbling towards the kitchen. Cassie's standing in front of the coffee maker watching it drip and Jon's slouched at the kitchen table drinking orange juice.
"I hope you don't mind that we totally jacked your kitchen," Cassie says.
Brendon shrugs. "You're making me coffee, that's all that matters. Oh, and Ryan called. He says Jon broke Spencer and if you guys don't show up at his party tomorrow night he's going to send the porn link to Pete."
"You told him about the porn?" Jon asks, looking suddenly very awake.
"No. He called to tell you that Spencer found the porn, which is why he went catatonic and tried to bleach his brain."
"Oh, God," Jon groans, rubbing his hands over his face. "This is why I hate the internet."
"You know they all know about Bill's videos," says Cassie, snatching the coffee pot out of the maker when it's only half full and quickly filling her mug. "Stop acting like it's the end of the world. Pete puts his own amateur porn up online. Big deal."
"Coffee, coffee," Brendon says, making grabby hands for it as Jon groans again and covers his face with his hands.
Brendon's got a pop quiz in Jazz Theory that day, which he thinks he does pretty well on despite still being hungover. Shane takes Jon and Cassie out to see the strip, but Brendon just hangs out at home, fooling around on his keyboard and making a few notations that might turn into something for his composition class.
On Fridays he's got German, Jazz Keyboard, and rehearsals for both Jazz Band and the concert choir, where he's a TA. He doesn't get home until seven, but Shane's left him a bowl of pasta in the fridge and the directions to the party that night.
Brendon thinks that he probably wouldn't have even needed directions, there are so many cars parked on the street in front of Ryan's house. He doesn't know anybody when he walks in, but at least one person knows him.
"Brendon!" cries a skinny dude in a striped vintage shirt and a mustard-yellow corduroy vest. "You came! Hi!" He hugs Brendon tightly, and a pretty blonde laughs and gently tugs him away.
"Ryan's a little drunk," the pretty blonde says. "Hi. I'm Greta, Ryan's secretary."
"Hi," Brendon says, wondering if she means she's his actual secretary or if it's some sort of slang that he's never learned.
"You're not my secretary," Ryan tells her. He looks at Brendon. "She's not my secretary, she's my Greta and she's awesome."
"And you're drunk," says Greta.
"I'm so drunk," says Ryan, still leaning on Brendon for support. "I'm so glad you're here. It's my party and it's my fucking birthday and I'm drunk." He grins at Brendon like he's the happiest he's been in his life.
"I didn't get you a present," Brendon says.
"You made porn with Jon. That's, like, the best present ever. That's the present that will keep giving until the end of time. Wow. I so didn't know my hallway could spin like this. I could totally go for a burrito right now."
"I'm taking you upstairs," says Greta. "Jon and Cassie are out back," she tells Brendon before leading Ryan away.
The patio is strung with Christmas lights, but it still takes Brendon a while to find the far corner where Jon and Cassie are sharing a lounge chair. Cassie's just exhaling a long stream of marijuana smoke, and she grins when she sees Brendon and passes him the joint. Brendon doesn't smoke up on a regular basis, but he's not one to turn down free weed.
It's not until he sits down that he sees Shane in the lounge chair closest to the fence, making out with a slim brunette girl. Brendon squints and tips his head to the side. "Is Shane making out with a guy or a girl?" he asks. It's always hard to tell with Shane, and this particular query is more ambiguous than usual.
"Dude," says Jon. "They've been at it all night."
"He's in my mom's physics class!" wails a guy lying on the brick patio half beneath Jon and Cassie's lounge chair. "He's in high school!"
"I'm in college," the slim, pretty boy with girl hair breaks away from Shane long enough to say. "I graduated last year."
"You graduated from high school four months ago," the guy says. "I'm going to kill myself."
"You can't kill yourself, sweetie," says Cassie, taking the joint back from Brendon. "It's your birthday."
"My birthday's tomorrow, and what do I have to show for it, huh? I'll be twenty-two, single, living in my best friend's house. I don't even have a car."
"Why don't you have a car?" Jon asks. "You used to have a car."
"Ryan crashed it while I was in Croatia."
"Oh, hey," says Brendon. "You must be Spencer."
"Dude," says Jon. "I don't have any fucking manners. Brendon, this is my friend Spencer. Spencer, this is Brendon."
Spencer lifts his head up from the patio and looks at Brendon for a moment. His eyes are startlingly blue, and Brendon thinks for the first time that beards are maybe one of his turn-ons. Then Spencer groans and drops his head back onto the patio with an audible thud.
"Ow," says Spencer. "Also, I'm killing myself as soon as I get up. I'm drowning myself in the pool."
"I hate to tell you this," says Brendon, looking over at the kidney-shaped hole in the ground. "But your pool's empty."
"I have it drained if I'm leaving town," Spencer explains. "I don't trust Ryan not to fall in."
Brendon thinks it's ridiculous to drain a pool to prevent a grown man from falling in, but neither Jon nor Cassie seem surprised, so he doesn't say anything.
"Look," Jon says, reaching down to touch Spencer's shoulder. "Look, if I'd known that you jerked off to the Shane Valdes College Spectacular on a regular basis, I never would have made a video with them, okay? I didn't try to break your brain on purpose."
"And yet, still broken," Spencer says.
"Maybe we should start a database," Cassie says, curling up against Jon's chest. "We could have everybody list their favorite porn sites and then the rest of us would vow never to work for those sites." She thinks for a moment. "Not that I ever plan on doing porn, but still. Crazier things have happened."
"I have a question," Brendon says, still looking at the empty pool. "If you're worried about Ryan falling in, wouldn't it be more dangerous for him to fall into an empty pool and, like, crack his head open?"
"Augh," Spencer groans, throwing one arm over his eyes. "Now I'm going to have to fence it in."
"Sorry," says Brendon.
"I need more booze. And maybe ice for my head. Ow." Spencer gets up and shuffles back to the house.
"Get me a beer," Jon calls after him. Spencer gives him the finger and keeps walking.
"Hey," says Brendon, squinting at the pretty boy in Shane's lap. "I know you. You're in concert choir. Holy shit, you really are only eighteen."
"Don't judge me," Shane says, running his hand up the pretty boy's leg. "I already feel guilty enough."
Brendon laughs. "No, you don't."
"You're right. I don't."
"You're not putting him in porn, are you?"
"No!" says the pretty boy. Brendon's pretty sure his name is Alex. "My best friend's already done a jerk off thingie, though."
"It's called a solo vid," Shane says.
Alex rolls his eyes. "Whatever. He's jerking off on camera for money. Like, he's my best friend and I love him, but he can be a total whore."
"Hey!" Jon and Brendon chorus.
"I..." Alex says, looking startled. "Um. Oh. Oh. You know Shane because of his company. I..." He squints at Brendon. "Holy shit. Aren't you my choir TA?"
"I think we established that a few minutes ago," Brendon says.
"My choir TA does gay porn," Alex says softly. "Holy shit. Everybody would flip out if they knew. Not that I'd tell them."
"Well," says Brendon, "gossip does cause cancer."
"Ball cancer," says Jon, sagely.
"I...that doesn't even make sense," Alex says.
"And yet, men who gossip have a 97% higher chance of getting cancer of the balls," Brendon tells him.
Shane buries his face in Alex's shoulder and laughs silently.
"What? That doesn't even. No. I'm pre-med, and that doesn't even make any sense at all," says Alex.
"No, I read that study," says Cassie. "They did it at, like, Johns Hopkins, right? Something about the hormones that lead men to gossip also give them testicular cancer."
Alex looks confused and a little stricken, and Shane squeezes his hand. "Come on, baby," he says. "Let's go get you another drink."
"That Johns Hopkins shit was golden," Brendon says after Shane and Alex are gone. "Ten bucks he Googles gossip and ball cancer tomorrow."
"Sucker's bet," says Jon. "Spencer's not coming back with my beer, is he?"
"Probably not," says Cassie.
"I'm heading in to get a drink," Brendon says. "I'll bring you one back."
"You're a gentleman and a scholar, sir," says Jon, offering his fist for Brendon to bump.
In the house, Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough is bumping on the stereo and Brendon gets distracted from his quest for liquor by young Michael Jackson's dulcet tones. He dances with two girls for a while, then a relatively cute guy who turns out to have really terrible teeth. He's still bopping along, sliding through the crowd and getting his groove on, when he sees Spencer sitting alone on the far edge of a sofa, drink in hand.
"Keep on with the force don't stop," Brendon sings, shimmying his way over to Spencer. "Don't stop 'til you get enough." He feels a little responsible for Spencer's broken brain, since he was the one in the video with Jon. He thinks maybe a dance or two will get Spencer's mind off it. "How are you not dancing?" he asks. "Dude. Michael Jackson before he went batshit and named his kid Blanket."
Spencer looks up at him with a confused grin. "He named his kid Blanket? Like, like Blanket?"
Brendon nods. "Not officially. Officially I think he's Michael Junior or something, but everybody calls him Blanket."
"Like he wasn't already going to need a shit ton of therapy."
"Come on," Brendon says, offering his hand. "It's your birthday party. You should be dancing."
"I don't really dance," Spencer tells him. Just then, the beginning beats of Bobby Brown's My Prerogative start up, and Brendon grabs Spencer's hand.
"You're officially not allowed to sit out any song that falls into the genre of New Jack Swing," Brendon tells him. "It's, like, a law."
Spencer's smiling, which Brendon totally takes as a win, even if he does still look a little confused and suspicious. He lets Brendon pull him to his feet, though, and he kind of hunches his shoulders in like he's self-conscious, but he, well, not quite dances, but he does move along to the beat.
"Come on," Brendon says, putting his hands on Spencer's hips. "Let your backbone slip."
"That sounds like something you'd need to see a doctor about."
Brendon uses his hands to move Spencer's hips, tugs him forward so they move further into the crowd on the makeshift dance floor in what Brendon assumes is the dining room. Every now and then, Spencer forgets to be self-conscious and he actually has good rhythm. Then he seems to remember that he's dancing in public, and he freezes up again. Still, Brendon gets him to dance through Bobby Brown, David Bowie, and even Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers' Islands in the Stream.
When he's not being shy about it, Spencer's actually a pretty good dancer. He's also got an amazing smile, the most brilliant smile Brendon's ever seen in his life. When Brendon spins him, he tosses his head back and laughs and his cheeks are pink and it kind of takes Brendon's breath away.
Brendon's totally ready to grind up against him when Missy Elliott's Get Ur Freak On comes on, but Spencer's being self-conscious again and he shakes his head and pulls away, muttering something about a headache.
Brendon reaches around to touch the back of Spencer's head, to make sure he doesn't have a goose egg from when he'd bumped it earlier. Then Spencer tips his head down and Brendon's fingers tangle in Spencer's hair and the kiss is gentle, but Brendon can feel the heat behind it.
Spencer's hands are strong against Brendon's back as he pulls him close. He can feel Spencer's cock half-hard against his hip and Brendon's stomach drops and fills with need.
Spencer's breath is ragged as he presses their foreheads together. "We could," he whispers. "I want..."
Brendon slides his hands beneath the hem of Spencer's shirt. "Me, too. Somewhere private."
"Come on." Spencer takes Brendon's hand and leads him through the party. It's totally obvious what they're going upstairs to do, but Brendon doesn't even care. He just wants Spencer's strong hands on him again.
They get to a bedroom and Spencer shuts the door, then presses Brendon up against it. His beard tickles a little bit as they kiss, but it's not bad. "Kinda soft, actually," Brendon murmurs as he slides his fingers over Spencer's cheek.
Spencer growls a little bit and shoves his thigh between Brendon's legs, and that is most definitely not soft at all. Brendon's hands fist in Spencer's shirt as their mouths meet over and over again. He thinks about saying that they're both wearing too many clothes, but then Spencer's pulling his shirt up and off and kissing at his neck and collarbone and Brendon leans hard against the door for support. He finds Spencer's belt and manages to unbuckle it, and then they're both stumbling towards the bed and getting naked and then kissing again and Spencer's hard cock feels amazing rubbing against his own.
When they fall onto the bed, Spencer turns to catch himself and the strong expanse of his back is too much for Brendon to resist. He kisses the nape of Spencer's neck, then down his spine, nips at his shoulder blades.
"God, oh God," Spencer says over and over again.
Brendon kisses his way down Spencer's back, slides his hands over Spencer's pale, round ass. It feels so good in his hands that he leans down to kiss it, and Spencer shudders. Brendon grins and kisses the top of Spencer's crack, bites down on his left cheek, then kisses the place where he bit. Spencer's hips are rocking against the mattress, but when Brendon spreads his ass and dips his tongue down to flick against his hole, he freezes. He freezes, then he shudders and arches back and groans, "Oh, God," deep in his throat.
Brendon knows encouragement when he hears it, so he positions himself a little better between Spencer's legs and leans down. He licks at Spencer's hole for a while, flat laps of his tongue alternated with little flicks of the tip and the sounds Spencer's making are amazing. He's totally pliant as Brendon shoves one thigh up a little bit for better access. Spencer's moans are soft and desperate, and he turns his face into the mattress to muffle it.
"Don't," Brendon says, sliding his thumb over Spencer's hole. "Wanna hear you."
Spencer gasps when the tip of Brendon's thumb presses inside. "I want," he whispers, arching back into Brendon's touch. "Want you to."
"Mmm, yeah." Brendon kisses the base of Spencer's spine again. "Supplies?"
Spencer props himself up on his elbows, pushes himself forward enough to reach his beside table. He tosses Brendon a full box of condoms and a mostly empty bottle of lube.
What Brendon really wants is to roll on a condom and shove right into Spencer's tight ass. What he does instead, though, is slick his fingers up and slide two inside. Spencer's so hot, so tight around his fingers, it makes Brendon want so much his mouth waters. He tries not to think about what it's going to feel like when he gets his cock inside because Spencer really is tight, probably hasn't had anyone inside him for a while, and Brendon wants to make it just as good for him.
He fucks Spencer with his fingers, licks around them, until Spencer's moaning steadily and rocking his hips in time. Then Brendon pulls away and reaches for the condoms. "Over," he says, one hand on Spencer's hip as he lifts the condom packet to his mouth. He tears it open with his teeth, presses on Spencer's hip again. "On your back. Wanna see your face."
Spencer rolls onto his back, and he's gorgeous, skin flushed pink, sheen of sweat just barely covering his brow. Brendon grins at him as he slides the condom on, and as he presses inside, Spencer's back arches and his eyes close.
Brendon shakes and Spencer says, "It's good. Don't hold back." So Brendon doesn't, fucks into Spencer until they're both trembling and moaning and when Brendon comes, it's so hard that his vision whites out.
He comes to after a moment, less than a minute, belly sticky with Spencer's come, and they lie there panting and gazing at each other for a long time. "Hi," Brendon says eventually, and he knows he's smiling like an idiot but he can't help it.
"Hey," Spencer says softly, reaching out to brush Brendon's hair off his sweaty forehead.
Brendon knows most guys don't like to snuggle after sex, but he moves forward anyway and Spencer doesn't seem to mind, slides his arm over Brendon's shoulders and lets Brendon press up close.
"I'm probably going to sleep for a little while," Brendon says.
"Okay."
Brendon closes his eyes and smiles against Spencer's shoulder as Spencer's fingers trace round, gentle shapes on his skin. He dozes for a little while, never really falling asleep, just drifting in and out. "You're really comfortable," he murmurs, stretching his leg up to drape over Spencer's hips.
"Lots of padding," Spencer says. He sounds sleepy, too.
Brendon turns and bites at Spencer's collarbone to show his disapproval of Spencer's self-deprecation. Then he kisses Spencer's neck, trails the tip of his nose up the beard on Spencer's jaw. "Fuzzy," he murmurs.
"I, uh, I just. I thought I'd try it for a while. I've only had it a few months."
"Sexy," Brendon tells him. They kiss lazily for a while and Brendon's turned on again, but he's not frantic with it. It feels nice to kiss Spencer, to stroke his arms and his back and his ass, to feel Spencer's dick swelling just a little bit against his thigh.
"Can't keep my hands off you," Spencer whispers, and it's true. He never stops touching Brendon, touches his face as they kiss, runs his fingers through Brendon's hair, grips Brendon's hip to pull him closer.
"It's nice," Brendon admits. He loves the way Spencer's hands feel on him.
"How'd you get this?" Spencer asks as his thumb travels over the scar that cuts through Brendon's eyebrow.
"Flipped off a trampoline when I was eleven."
Spencer kisses the scar gently.
"I should probably come up with a cooler story for it, say I almost got eaten by one of the tigers at the Mirage or something."
Spencer smiles sleepily and shakes his head.
"What about you? Got any cool scars?"
"Not cool ones," Spencer says. He stops touching Brendon long enough to show him a jagged line on the heel of his palm. "Tripped over a curb when I lived in Chicago, landed on broken glass. I wasn't even drunk. Just clumsy."
Brendon slides his fingers over the smooth skin of Spencer's scar, then laces their fingers together.
"Do you want to go back to the party?" Spencer asks softly.
Brendon shakes his head. "Not really."
Spencer smiles, then, sleepy and pleased, and Brendon's chest feels tight at the sight of it. He kisses Spencer over and over again, gasps against his mouth and grinds against Spencer's hip. "What do you want?"
"Anything," Spencer whispers. "Doesn't matter."
"Tell me." Brendon kisses Spencer's mouth, his jaw, down his neck. "Tell me what you want."
"Your mouth. Want your mouth on me."
He smiles against Spencer's skin, kisses his collarbones and the hollow of his throat. "Like this? You want my mouth here?"
Spencer sighs brokenly, but he says, "Yeah, I. Anything. Whatever you want to do."
Brendon surges up, kisses Spencer hard and slides his fingers through Spencer's hair. "Tell me," he says again. "Tell me where you want my mouth."
"On my cock," Spencer whispers, eyes closed. He's blushing and Brendon thinks he's so, so beautiful. "Want your mouth on my cock."
"You want me to kiss it?" Brendon asks as he slides slowly downwards. "Lick it? You want me to suck it?"
"Yes. All of that. God."
Spencer's thighs tremble as Brendon takes him in, and he moans softly into his fist until Brendon lifts his head up and whispers, "Want to hear you." Spencer's still quiet after that, but he doesn't try to muffle his moans. Brendon surges up at the last moment to kiss him, and they come nearly simultaneously, rubbing their cocks together.
After that, Brendon sleeps, hard and dreamless, until the early morning, gray light just starting to come in through the curtains. He wakes up a little confused as to why he's got a warm body curled along the length of his back, but as Spencer's fingers stroke lazily over his hip, he remember and smiles. He arches back into Spencer's touch and twists his head back hoping for a kiss. Spencer makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat as Brendon rubs his ass against Spencer's dick, then lifts up and leans down to kiss him.
"Want you to fuck me," Brendon murmurs against Spencer's mouth.
"Yeah," Spencer whispers, fingers tightening on Brendon's hip as he kisses him sleepy slow.
Brendon's entire body aches, his muscles sore and pushed nearly to the point of exhaustion, but he still arches back into every one of Spencer's thrusts, still claws at the sheets and groans steadily as Spencer fucks him, gentle and deliberate.
The next time Brendon wakes up, he's alone. He sits up slowly, rubbing his face, then rakes his hands through his hair and smiles, thinking of the way Spencer had kissed him to sleep after the third time. He finds his clothes strewn around Spencer's room and cautiously opens the bedroom door. On his way to find the stairs, he stops into the bathroom and rinses his mouth out with cool water, tries to smooth his hair down the best he can.
Brendon pauses in the hallway to look at the photographs there. He'd been a little distracted the night before, hadn't even noticed there were pictures on the wall, let alone what they were. There's a photograph of a dark, mossy forest, the face of a barred owl just barely visible, staring straight at the camera from behind moss-covered branches. There's a photograph of a sunrise over a thick pine forest. There's a photograph of a baby gorilla just hanging out on the top of her mother's head, one of trees and a slow moving stream shrouded in mist.
The photographs are all over the house, and Brendon stops to look at most of them as he follows the scent of coffee. "Dude," he says to Cassie, who's standing in front of the coffee maker, watching it drip. "Okay, first of all, I think you might have a caffeine addiction."
"I'm a junkie," Cassie says with a shrug, not taking her eyes off the pot.
"Well, as long as you admit it, I guess. Have you seen the pictures in this place? They're fucking badass."
"Mmm," says Cassie with a nod. "Spencer's amazing."
"Spencer took them? Like, all of them?"
"That's his job. He does wilderness photography for a couple of magazines, does freelance work for conservation companies. Come on, come on," she says to the coffee pot.
"But there was, like, a picture of a fucking cheetah back there. Like, a cheetah looking right at the fucking camera, right at Spencer, and he just. He just goes out and chills with vicious carnivores?"
"Mmm," she says with a nod. "And where were you all night? We totally thought you hooked up with somebody when you never came back with Jon's beer."
"Oh. I, um." Despite the fact that he does porn a couple times a year, Brendon's not the type to kiss and tell. "I crashed here."
Just then, the sliding glass door opens and Jon, Ryan, and Spencer stumble in from the back patio. Spencer looks warm and sleep-rumpled and it's been so long since Brendon felt like this, since his heart actually sped up at just the sight of someone. He smiles when he realizes that he has actual butterflies in his stomach.
"Hey," Jon says with a sleepy, stoned smile. "I didn't know you were here, Bden. You totally could have wake and baked with us."
"Oh, my God," says Cassie. "It's like college all over again."
Brendon bites his lip as he looks over at Spencer. He kind of wants to kiss him, at least wants to snuggle up to him or hold his hand or something, but with Jon and Cassie and Ryan there, he's not sure if he should. "Hey," he says softly.
Spencer tugs on his hair and pointedly doesn't look at Brendon. "I'll catch you guys later," he says. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on."
"No, hey," says Jon, reaching out to bat at Spencer's arm. "Dude, we need to hang out. Weren't you going to take me and Cassie to that sushi place you like?"
"Yeah, I, uh, I've got some contracts I need to look over or whatever so, um." He shrugs and leaves the kitchen. Brendon looks down at the floor as he hears Spencer's keys jingle, as he hears the front door open and close. The butterflies have turned to a stone in the pit of his stomach and he tries to swallow to make it go away. It doesn't matter. Spencer's just a guy and Brendon will be fine.
"What the fuck was that about?" Jon asks. "Like, two minutes ago we were making plans to hang out today."
"It's probably Brendon," Ryan says easily, and Brendon hates him a little bit. "You know he's totally Spencer's favorite porn star in the history of, like, ever."
"Really?" Jon asks.
"Oh, yeah. Like I'll ask him to come hang out with me at a book signing and he'll be all, 'Oh, I can't, there's a new Brendon video up on the site.'"
"Huh," says Jon. "You sure he just doesn't want to come to your book signings? They're kind of dull, man."
Ryan shrugs. "He usually comes when I ask him. He's just, seriously. You should hear him talk about you, 'Oh, Brendon's so gorgeous, oh, Brendon's perfect mouth, oh, why can't I meet a guy like Brendon?' It was fucking hilarious when he saw the video of you with Jon, like, I've never seen him so pale."
"Yeah, hilarious," Brendon whispers. He swallows hard again and tells himself that he only feels like shit because he's hungover, even though he hasn't had anything to drink in over twenty-four hours.
"Ryan," Cassie says softly, ignoring the coffee maker completely in order to put her hand on Ryan's arm. "Hey."
"What?" Ryan asks.
"Remember last year when we had that conversation about you being insensitive?"
"Spencer's not even here," Ryan says. "And if he's going to be such a pussy that he can't even be in the same room with the guy he's jerked off to, like, a million times, then he deserves the shit talk he gets."
"Insensitive," Cassie says again. She cuts a glance towards Brendon and he can tell that she knows. The pity in her eyes just makes him want to die a little bit more. He's had one-night stands before, but this is the first time he's ever been somebody's trophy fuck.
Ryan rolls his eyes. "I'll apologize to Spencer later, okay? Who wants waffles?"
"Waffles," says Jon happily. "Brendon, waffles?"
"Not very hungry," says Brendon, patting his pockets. He's got his phone and his wallet and his keys. "You guys have fun, though."
He ignores Cassie's soft, "Brendon, hey," and heads out the front door. His little red Yaris is the only car still parked on the street, and in the midst of so many giant houses it looks completely out of place. His sunglasses are, thankfully, on the passenger seat, and he slides them on as he starts his car. He can't wait to get back to his neighborhood of normal-sized houses and cookie-cutter apartments, can't wait to shower and get the smell of Spencer off his skin.
part two
"Close," he gasps, then whimpers when he feels Travis' large hand wrap around his cock and jerk him in time to his thrusts. "Oh, fuck," he chokes out as his body shudders and he comes, feeling the droplets land on his stomach and chest. Travis keeps stroking him through it, and Brendon keeps shaking, keeps arching up to meet Travis' thrusts, and he's a little disappointed when Travis pulls out and starts jerking off over him. Travis' come pelts his skin, paints him from his cock all the way up to his collarbones, and Brendon gasps for breath and covers his face with his hands and laughs softly.
"Oh, shit," says Travis, crashing down on the best next to him. "Christ, you're a hot fuck," Travis says, and Brendon grins, tipping his head to the side and opening his eyes. Travis is grinning back at him, and Brendon tips his head up for a kiss.
"And we're good," says Shane from behind the camera.
Brendon gives him a thumbs-up and doesn't move, even as Travis gets up and heads towards the shower.
"So, Brendon, this is your seventh video and you've become one of SV's favorite models. You ever think you'd come this far when you did your first solo vid a year ago?"
Brendon opens his eyes and looks at Shane. "Are you still filming?" he asks.
"I'm interviewing you."
"I just got my brains fucked out," Brendon mumbles. "I can't think enough to be interviewed right now. Did you not see the giant dick that was in my ass just a minute ago?"
Shane laughs softly, and Brendon stretches as the camera pans over his body. "How's your ass feel?"
Brendon draws one of his legs up so Shane can see his hole. He slides his fingers over it, can feel how it's stretched and used. "Feels good," he says. He lets his leg drop, then stretches and sits up. "I so need a shower," he tells the camera with a grin.
The shower's nice, but he always wants to sleep after he comes. His thighs are shaky from holding his legs up for so long and after he dries off and dresses, he shuffles into Shane's office and collapses on the black leather couch. He's teased Shane many times about how tacky a black leather couch is in a porn producer's office.
"I'm depressed," he says as Shane comes into the office, cell phone to his ear.
Shane holds up one finger to let Brendon know he needs to hang on, then continues his phone conversation, something about consent forms and the necessity of several forms of ID and blah, blah, blah. Brendon tunes him out and shifts on the couch so he's staring up at Shane's ceiling.
"I'm depressed," he says again once Shane's conversation is over.
"You're not depressed. You're never depressed."
"I'm a little depressed." He sighs to emphasize his point.
"You got home early last night and went right to your room. Date turn out to be shitty?"
Brendon sighs again.
"Do I have to find the guy and beat him up? Because I will. Well, unless he's bigger than me. Is he bigger than me?"
"A little bit, and no, you don't need to beat him up. It wasn't bad, it was just really, really boring. Like, there was no connection at all."
"I thought you said he was hot," Shane says, sitting down in front of his computer and clicking a few things.
"He was hot."
"So what's the problem?"
"You're so shallow," Brendon says.
Shane looks up at him and grins brightly. "And?"
"I want there to be an actual connection. Not just, like, a physical one. I want. I don't know. Something."
"We're gay," Shane tells him. "And you know what the best thing about being gay is? We don't have to get fucking married and have kids. We can fuck whoever we want whenever we want."
Brendon shrugs. He and Shane have had this conversation before.
"Don't let society trick you into thinking that you have to find your fucking soul mate to be happy. Soul mates don't exist or, if they do, they're your best friends, not your fucks."
"I don't have any good friends," Brendon tells him. "Except for you."
"Exactly," Shane tells him. "We're soul mates who don't fuck."
Brendon shrugs again and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn't think Shane's right, but sometimes he just gets tired of arguing with him. "Do you mind if I take a nap here?" he asks.
"You know I don't. Want me to put the TV on?"
"Please." Brendon closes his eyes as he hears Shane's television click on. It's just some stupid soap opera, but the background noise lulls him to sleep.
**********
Brendon and Shane had been roommates for over a year when Shane had said, "I think I'm going to start a porn website."
"You have fun with that," Brendon'd said, not looking up from his psychology textbook.
"No, seriously. I love making movies. I love designing websites. I love porn. I'm going to combine all my loves into the best porn site ever and live the dream."
"Mmm-hmm," had been Brendon's only response, and he'd forgotten about it after a while.
He'd forgotten it completely until one day Shane had said, "So, um, I'm going to be making porn in the living room tomorrow."
Brendon had laughed until he realized that Shane was serious. "Wait," he'd said. "You're serious? Like, really serious?"
"Yeah. I got a company set up and I've bought the domain name and I've got a crew and a startup loan."
"Wow. You're. Dude. I thought you were kidding."
Shane had grinned at him. "Serious as a heart attack. Or, really, serious as some hotass UNLV studs jerking off in the living room tomorrow. You can hang out and watch if you want."
Brendon had smirked and shook his head. "No, thanks, I think I'll just hang out at the library all day." He'd still thought it was a ridiculous idea, had thought it would be terrible until two days later when Shane said, "Will you look at a rough cut of the first video?"
Brendon had sat down in front of Shane's computer with a bowl full of veggie stir-fry and low expectations. Ten minutes into the rough cut, he'd said, "Um, yeah, that's. I think I need to go jerk off, now."
"Can I film it?" Shane had asked.
"No. Fuck you. Fuck, that's hot."
The internet had found the videos just as hot as Brendon did, and within six months Shane was doing the porn thing full time with a rotation of seven or eight guys starring in his videos.
"I just filled a void, that's all," he said to Brendon one night over vegan chili. "There just weren't any sites out there catering to guys who like to watch straight college boys fuck each other. It's so obvious, really, the whole straight thing, I'm surprised I got there first."
"It's called 'The Shane Valdes College Spectacular,'" Brendon said. "I think anything with 'spectacular' in the name is automatically queer."
After a year, Shane bought a house that he turned into a studio. He had one of the bedrooms made up to look like a locker room and one made up to look like a frat house and it was ridiculous, really, the kind of bank he was making.
"You should do a video for me," Shane said. He said it a lot, and Brendon usually ignored him. "I mean it. You've got a killer body, you love being naked, you're vocal as hell, you'd be amazing. Just a solo vid. And if you don't like the final cut, I won't put it up."
"If I do one solo vid will you stop bugging me about it?" Brendon had asked.
"Probably not," Shane admitted.
Brendon laughed and grinned at him. He did like being naked, and he liked jerking off, and he was kind of an exhibitionist, so what the hell. "One solo vid," he told Shane. "And then you stop pestering me for at least six months."
"Scout's honor," Shane had said, even though he'd never been a boy scout.
Filming the video had been easy. It was just Shane with a camera, asking Brendon questions about sex and what he liked, how he felt being naked, that sort of thing. Then Brendon had jerked off and put on a show while he did it, like he would with a boyfriend watching him touch himself. It had been easy and had taken less than an afternoon and when he watched the final cut, he'd had to admit that it was hot.
"The copy is lame," Brendon said, looking over Shane's shoulder. Brendon's the newest stud to join the SV family, and boy are we ever lucky to have him! This seemingly sweet and innocent 21 year-old is a secret horndog who loves to show off for the camera. "Horndog?" Brendon asked. "Really?"
"The copy's always lame," Shane told him. "Lame copy works on porn sites. What do you think?"
"Post it," Brendon said.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. It was kind of fun, actually. Now I can always tell people I have a dark secret life as a porn star."
All the fan mail had been a nice surprise.
**********
After Brendon wakes up from his nap in Shane's office, he heads to campus to get some practice in before his lessons. He's gone over the last two pages of the Chopin Etude he's working on before he gets distracted because there's an actual marimba in his practice room. He doesn't know whose it is or why it's there, but it's a marimba and it's got mallets just resting there across the keys, taunting him.
He finally gives up on the Chopin and starts to play around on the marimba, nothing in particular, just a sort of ragtime tune he's got in his head that seems to fit with the sound of the instrument. Then he decides to play the Chopin Etude on the marimba, even though he doesn't have all the octaves he needs. It's kind of fun to see how quickly he can rewrite the music in his head as he plays.
He looks up with a grin as the door opens, expecting it to be one of his students. He sometimes loses track of time and they have to come find him. Instead of Katie, though, it's one of the percussion graduate students. Brendon thinks his name is Bob. He's big and blonde and a little bit scary.
"Um," says Brendon, laying the mallets down gently. "So putting a marimba in my practice room? You're practically begging me to play it."
"Show off," says Bob. He says it with a grin, but Brendon's not sure if it's a real grin or the kind meant to mask annoyance. Then he shuts the door again.
Brendon looks at the marimba longingly, but he knows how percussionists are about their instruments, so he goes back to the piano and practices some more. At four o'clock he heads down to the hallway where the undergraduate practice rooms are. He peers into the window of room 131 and sees Katie, one of his freshmen, diligently practicing her sonatina, tongue between her lips.
"You're improving a lot," he tells her, because she is. He winces a little bit as he sits down on the bench next to her to demonstrate the correct fingering, but she doesn't seem to notice. Shane tells him a sore ass is just the price he has to pay for being in porn, and Brendon doesn't really mind. It's not like he's getting any anywhere else.
A little less than a month after the shoot with Travis goes up on the site, Shane says, "You interested in any more work?"
Brendon shrugs. He's got a German test in two days that he's a little worried about.
"One of William's friends is coming in from Chicago next week," Shane explains. "If his solo shoot goes well, he's agreed to try some oral."
Brendon perks up at that. "Is he actually straight or just straight on camera?"
"Actually straight. Actual girlfriend and everything, according to William. Never even gotten a handjob from a guy."
"Nice," says Brendon. He has kind of a thing for blowing straight boys, loves that moment when they stop being so nervous and just give in to how good it feels. "You can totally count me in."
Two days later, he's sitting on one of the fake beds in Shane's house in Summerlin. Brendon fucking loves the fact that Shane's giant porno mansion is in Summerlin, a town where the fifties never ended, they just got more environmentally friendly. He loves that he grew up not ten minutes from where Shane's porn empire is thriving.
He's sitting on the bed next to a guy named Jon who's so adorable, Brendon kind of wants to keep him in his pocket. He's obviously nervous and he's blushing even though Shane's still just setting up the lights.
"So," Brendon says conversationally, lounging back on the bed and propping himself on his elbows. "Here's my advice. Take deep breaths, close your eyes, and think of England."
Jon seems startled by his own laughter. "I, um," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm a little nervous."
"Don't be," says Brendon. "It's just sex."
Jon rolls his eyes. "That's kind of the part I'm worried about."
"You guys getting started without me?" Shane asks from behind the camera.
Brendon grins at him and schools his features into his most innocent expression. "Without you? Never."
The shoot goes well. Jon really is nervous at first, and it takes a few minutes for Brendon to get him hard. Once that hurdle's out of the way, Brendon just closes his eyes and enjoys it. He loves the feel of cock heavy on his tongue, loves the soft noises Jon's trying to keep in. When Brendon takes him down to the root, Jon gasps and says, "Oh God, oh God," over and over again, and from that point his hips start to roll and that's it, the moment Brendon loves, when it stops being about getting filmed with a guy sucking your dick and just turns into Jon enjoying the way Brendon makes him feel.
Jon flies out the next week, too, just for some promo shots for the site, and Brendon's surprised to see his girlfriend smiling and cheerful off to the side, talking cameras and lighting with Shane and giving Jon the thumbs up when he and Brendon get naked in the shower for some stills of them soaping each other up.
Jon's First Oral goes live that night, and Shane takes them out for sushi to celebrate.
"Any regrets?" Brendon asks, bumping Jon's foot with his over green tea ice cream.
"Not really," Jon says. "The only thing I was worried about was Cassie, and she was totally down with it, so." He shrugs.
"My man's so hot," Cassie says, laughing, slinging her arm around Jon's shoulder and kissing him hard on the cheek.
The party continues at Shane and Brendon's house. Brendon makes amazing margaritas, if he does say so himself. He passes out on the couch as Jon and Cassie stumble up the stairs towards the guest room and Shane's disappeared off with God knows who to do God knows what.
When his alarm goes off, Brendon reaches out to hit snooze, but no matter how many times he tries to find the clock, he can't. Then he opens his eyes and realizes it's the phone, not an alarm clock at all.
"Yeah?" Brendon answers, voice thick with sleep.
"One, you're a douche for not letting us know you were coming to Vegas," says the voice on the other end of the line. "And two, you broke Spencer."
"What?" Brendon sits up and rubs his eyes. "What time's it?"
"Four."
"In the morning? Who is this?"
"This is Ryan. Who's this?"
"Brendon, why are you, oh, hey, hold on." He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at it, then laughs. "This isn't even my phone. Whose phone is this?"
"Jon Walker's. Please tell me you don’t know whose phone it is because you just woke up from a giant gay orgy in which Jon Walker participated."
"Um, no. No, I was just asleep on the couch and the phone was on the coffee table. I think Jon and Cassie are probably still asleep in the guest room."
"Cassie's there?" Ryan asks. "Does she know about the gay porn? Please tell me she knows about the gay porn."
"I'm pretty sure she knows," Brendon says. "Who is this and how do you know?"
"Oh, right. I'm Ryan. Jon and I went to DePaul together, and I know about the gay porn because my best friend Spencer is broken. He logged on to his favorite website after a month in Croatia and what does he see? Jon Walker getting a blowjob."
"That was me giving the blowjob," Brendon says brightly.
"This is the best telephone conversation I've ever had in my entire life. Hey, Spencer, I'm talking to the guy who blew Jon on camera right this very second! He's not talking to me," the guy on the phone, Ryan, explains. "I think maybe he's catatonic. It's not every day you get on the computer and find out one of your best friends does gay porn."
"Well, actually," says Brendon, "my best friend runs the website, so I've gotten kind of used to it."
"Good point."
"What was Spencer doing in Croatia?"
"He's a wilderness photographer and he got hired by some magazine to do a really in depth shoot. Apparently, Croatia's fucking gorgeous. Who knew, right?"
"Seriously," says Brendon. He doesn't even know if he's seen a single picture of Croatia.
"Eastern Europe's Florida or some shit like that. It's all tropical with waterfalls, I guess. Anyway, he got home a few days ago, but I guess he didn't really get in any serious private time until last night. I was watching reruns of America's Next Top Model--"
"Oooh, what cycle?"
"Nine."
"That one was so boring, totally not enough cat fights."
"I know, right? And you can't even tell me that Jenah didn't deserve to win. Saleshia's cute, but totally not high fashion. What was I saying? Oh, right, so I'm watching TV and Spencer comes out into the living room and he's shaking and he tells me he just watched a video of Jon, our friend Jon, getting a blowjob. So then of course I had to watch it. Nice technique, by the way."
"Thanks."
"And Spencer's pretty much just been drinking ever since."
"Are you sure he's catatonic and not just drunk?"
"Good point. Hey, Spencer, are you just really drunk or should I call in the mental health professionals?" There's silence for a moment, then Ryan laughs. "He told me there's not enough bleach in the world for his brain and then he snuggled up to my hat rack and went to sleep, so, yeah. Really drunk. Speaking of which, do you know how long Jon's going to be in Vegas?"
"I think they're heading back to Chicago Sunday afternoon."
"Awesome. We're having a party Friday night. Is that tonight or tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night."
"Good. Spencer will be sober enough by then to get drunk again. We're having a party and tell Jon if he doesn't show up I'll send the link to Pete."
"Should I know who that is?"
"No. Just that if I sent the link to Pete, within 24 hours Jon's grandma will probably have a copy of his entire porn career on VHS hand delivered to her condo in Boca Raton."
"I'll have Jon call you," Brendon says, before they say their goodbyes and Brendon goes back to sleep.
He wakes up again to the scent of coffee. "Heaven, I smell heaven," he says, heaving himself up off the couch and stumbling towards the kitchen. Cassie's standing in front of the coffee maker watching it drip and Jon's slouched at the kitchen table drinking orange juice.
"I hope you don't mind that we totally jacked your kitchen," Cassie says.
Brendon shrugs. "You're making me coffee, that's all that matters. Oh, and Ryan called. He says Jon broke Spencer and if you guys don't show up at his party tomorrow night he's going to send the porn link to Pete."
"You told him about the porn?" Jon asks, looking suddenly very awake.
"No. He called to tell you that Spencer found the porn, which is why he went catatonic and tried to bleach his brain."
"Oh, God," Jon groans, rubbing his hands over his face. "This is why I hate the internet."
"You know they all know about Bill's videos," says Cassie, snatching the coffee pot out of the maker when it's only half full and quickly filling her mug. "Stop acting like it's the end of the world. Pete puts his own amateur porn up online. Big deal."
"Coffee, coffee," Brendon says, making grabby hands for it as Jon groans again and covers his face with his hands.
Brendon's got a pop quiz in Jazz Theory that day, which he thinks he does pretty well on despite still being hungover. Shane takes Jon and Cassie out to see the strip, but Brendon just hangs out at home, fooling around on his keyboard and making a few notations that might turn into something for his composition class.
On Fridays he's got German, Jazz Keyboard, and rehearsals for both Jazz Band and the concert choir, where he's a TA. He doesn't get home until seven, but Shane's left him a bowl of pasta in the fridge and the directions to the party that night.
Brendon thinks that he probably wouldn't have even needed directions, there are so many cars parked on the street in front of Ryan's house. He doesn't know anybody when he walks in, but at least one person knows him.
"Brendon!" cries a skinny dude in a striped vintage shirt and a mustard-yellow corduroy vest. "You came! Hi!" He hugs Brendon tightly, and a pretty blonde laughs and gently tugs him away.
"Ryan's a little drunk," the pretty blonde says. "Hi. I'm Greta, Ryan's secretary."
"Hi," Brendon says, wondering if she means she's his actual secretary or if it's some sort of slang that he's never learned.
"You're not my secretary," Ryan tells her. He looks at Brendon. "She's not my secretary, she's my Greta and she's awesome."
"And you're drunk," says Greta.
"I'm so drunk," says Ryan, still leaning on Brendon for support. "I'm so glad you're here. It's my party and it's my fucking birthday and I'm drunk." He grins at Brendon like he's the happiest he's been in his life.
"I didn't get you a present," Brendon says.
"You made porn with Jon. That's, like, the best present ever. That's the present that will keep giving until the end of time. Wow. I so didn't know my hallway could spin like this. I could totally go for a burrito right now."
"I'm taking you upstairs," says Greta. "Jon and Cassie are out back," she tells Brendon before leading Ryan away.
The patio is strung with Christmas lights, but it still takes Brendon a while to find the far corner where Jon and Cassie are sharing a lounge chair. Cassie's just exhaling a long stream of marijuana smoke, and she grins when she sees Brendon and passes him the joint. Brendon doesn't smoke up on a regular basis, but he's not one to turn down free weed.
It's not until he sits down that he sees Shane in the lounge chair closest to the fence, making out with a slim brunette girl. Brendon squints and tips his head to the side. "Is Shane making out with a guy or a girl?" he asks. It's always hard to tell with Shane, and this particular query is more ambiguous than usual.
"Dude," says Jon. "They've been at it all night."
"He's in my mom's physics class!" wails a guy lying on the brick patio half beneath Jon and Cassie's lounge chair. "He's in high school!"
"I'm in college," the slim, pretty boy with girl hair breaks away from Shane long enough to say. "I graduated last year."
"You graduated from high school four months ago," the guy says. "I'm going to kill myself."
"You can't kill yourself, sweetie," says Cassie, taking the joint back from Brendon. "It's your birthday."
"My birthday's tomorrow, and what do I have to show for it, huh? I'll be twenty-two, single, living in my best friend's house. I don't even have a car."
"Why don't you have a car?" Jon asks. "You used to have a car."
"Ryan crashed it while I was in Croatia."
"Oh, hey," says Brendon. "You must be Spencer."
"Dude," says Jon. "I don't have any fucking manners. Brendon, this is my friend Spencer. Spencer, this is Brendon."
Spencer lifts his head up from the patio and looks at Brendon for a moment. His eyes are startlingly blue, and Brendon thinks for the first time that beards are maybe one of his turn-ons. Then Spencer groans and drops his head back onto the patio with an audible thud.
"Ow," says Spencer. "Also, I'm killing myself as soon as I get up. I'm drowning myself in the pool."
"I hate to tell you this," says Brendon, looking over at the kidney-shaped hole in the ground. "But your pool's empty."
"I have it drained if I'm leaving town," Spencer explains. "I don't trust Ryan not to fall in."
Brendon thinks it's ridiculous to drain a pool to prevent a grown man from falling in, but neither Jon nor Cassie seem surprised, so he doesn't say anything.
"Look," Jon says, reaching down to touch Spencer's shoulder. "Look, if I'd known that you jerked off to the Shane Valdes College Spectacular on a regular basis, I never would have made a video with them, okay? I didn't try to break your brain on purpose."
"And yet, still broken," Spencer says.
"Maybe we should start a database," Cassie says, curling up against Jon's chest. "We could have everybody list their favorite porn sites and then the rest of us would vow never to work for those sites." She thinks for a moment. "Not that I ever plan on doing porn, but still. Crazier things have happened."
"I have a question," Brendon says, still looking at the empty pool. "If you're worried about Ryan falling in, wouldn't it be more dangerous for him to fall into an empty pool and, like, crack his head open?"
"Augh," Spencer groans, throwing one arm over his eyes. "Now I'm going to have to fence it in."
"Sorry," says Brendon.
"I need more booze. And maybe ice for my head. Ow." Spencer gets up and shuffles back to the house.
"Get me a beer," Jon calls after him. Spencer gives him the finger and keeps walking.
"Hey," says Brendon, squinting at the pretty boy in Shane's lap. "I know you. You're in concert choir. Holy shit, you really are only eighteen."
"Don't judge me," Shane says, running his hand up the pretty boy's leg. "I already feel guilty enough."
Brendon laughs. "No, you don't."
"You're right. I don't."
"You're not putting him in porn, are you?"
"No!" says the pretty boy. Brendon's pretty sure his name is Alex. "My best friend's already done a jerk off thingie, though."
"It's called a solo vid," Shane says.
Alex rolls his eyes. "Whatever. He's jerking off on camera for money. Like, he's my best friend and I love him, but he can be a total whore."
"Hey!" Jon and Brendon chorus.
"I..." Alex says, looking startled. "Um. Oh. Oh. You know Shane because of his company. I..." He squints at Brendon. "Holy shit. Aren't you my choir TA?"
"I think we established that a few minutes ago," Brendon says.
"My choir TA does gay porn," Alex says softly. "Holy shit. Everybody would flip out if they knew. Not that I'd tell them."
"Well," says Brendon, "gossip does cause cancer."
"Ball cancer," says Jon, sagely.
"I...that doesn't even make sense," Alex says.
"And yet, men who gossip have a 97% higher chance of getting cancer of the balls," Brendon tells him.
Shane buries his face in Alex's shoulder and laughs silently.
"What? That doesn't even. No. I'm pre-med, and that doesn't even make any sense at all," says Alex.
"No, I read that study," says Cassie. "They did it at, like, Johns Hopkins, right? Something about the hormones that lead men to gossip also give them testicular cancer."
Alex looks confused and a little stricken, and Shane squeezes his hand. "Come on, baby," he says. "Let's go get you another drink."
"That Johns Hopkins shit was golden," Brendon says after Shane and Alex are gone. "Ten bucks he Googles gossip and ball cancer tomorrow."
"Sucker's bet," says Jon. "Spencer's not coming back with my beer, is he?"
"Probably not," says Cassie.
"I'm heading in to get a drink," Brendon says. "I'll bring you one back."
"You're a gentleman and a scholar, sir," says Jon, offering his fist for Brendon to bump.
In the house, Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough is bumping on the stereo and Brendon gets distracted from his quest for liquor by young Michael Jackson's dulcet tones. He dances with two girls for a while, then a relatively cute guy who turns out to have really terrible teeth. He's still bopping along, sliding through the crowd and getting his groove on, when he sees Spencer sitting alone on the far edge of a sofa, drink in hand.
"Keep on with the force don't stop," Brendon sings, shimmying his way over to Spencer. "Don't stop 'til you get enough." He feels a little responsible for Spencer's broken brain, since he was the one in the video with Jon. He thinks maybe a dance or two will get Spencer's mind off it. "How are you not dancing?" he asks. "Dude. Michael Jackson before he went batshit and named his kid Blanket."
Spencer looks up at him with a confused grin. "He named his kid Blanket? Like, like Blanket?"
Brendon nods. "Not officially. Officially I think he's Michael Junior or something, but everybody calls him Blanket."
"Like he wasn't already going to need a shit ton of therapy."
"Come on," Brendon says, offering his hand. "It's your birthday party. You should be dancing."
"I don't really dance," Spencer tells him. Just then, the beginning beats of Bobby Brown's My Prerogative start up, and Brendon grabs Spencer's hand.
"You're officially not allowed to sit out any song that falls into the genre of New Jack Swing," Brendon tells him. "It's, like, a law."
Spencer's smiling, which Brendon totally takes as a win, even if he does still look a little confused and suspicious. He lets Brendon pull him to his feet, though, and he kind of hunches his shoulders in like he's self-conscious, but he, well, not quite dances, but he does move along to the beat.
"Come on," Brendon says, putting his hands on Spencer's hips. "Let your backbone slip."
"That sounds like something you'd need to see a doctor about."
Brendon uses his hands to move Spencer's hips, tugs him forward so they move further into the crowd on the makeshift dance floor in what Brendon assumes is the dining room. Every now and then, Spencer forgets to be self-conscious and he actually has good rhythm. Then he seems to remember that he's dancing in public, and he freezes up again. Still, Brendon gets him to dance through Bobby Brown, David Bowie, and even Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers' Islands in the Stream.
When he's not being shy about it, Spencer's actually a pretty good dancer. He's also got an amazing smile, the most brilliant smile Brendon's ever seen in his life. When Brendon spins him, he tosses his head back and laughs and his cheeks are pink and it kind of takes Brendon's breath away.
Brendon's totally ready to grind up against him when Missy Elliott's Get Ur Freak On comes on, but Spencer's being self-conscious again and he shakes his head and pulls away, muttering something about a headache.
Brendon reaches around to touch the back of Spencer's head, to make sure he doesn't have a goose egg from when he'd bumped it earlier. Then Spencer tips his head down and Brendon's fingers tangle in Spencer's hair and the kiss is gentle, but Brendon can feel the heat behind it.
Spencer's hands are strong against Brendon's back as he pulls him close. He can feel Spencer's cock half-hard against his hip and Brendon's stomach drops and fills with need.
Spencer's breath is ragged as he presses their foreheads together. "We could," he whispers. "I want..."
Brendon slides his hands beneath the hem of Spencer's shirt. "Me, too. Somewhere private."
"Come on." Spencer takes Brendon's hand and leads him through the party. It's totally obvious what they're going upstairs to do, but Brendon doesn't even care. He just wants Spencer's strong hands on him again.
They get to a bedroom and Spencer shuts the door, then presses Brendon up against it. His beard tickles a little bit as they kiss, but it's not bad. "Kinda soft, actually," Brendon murmurs as he slides his fingers over Spencer's cheek.
Spencer growls a little bit and shoves his thigh between Brendon's legs, and that is most definitely not soft at all. Brendon's hands fist in Spencer's shirt as their mouths meet over and over again. He thinks about saying that they're both wearing too many clothes, but then Spencer's pulling his shirt up and off and kissing at his neck and collarbone and Brendon leans hard against the door for support. He finds Spencer's belt and manages to unbuckle it, and then they're both stumbling towards the bed and getting naked and then kissing again and Spencer's hard cock feels amazing rubbing against his own.
When they fall onto the bed, Spencer turns to catch himself and the strong expanse of his back is too much for Brendon to resist. He kisses the nape of Spencer's neck, then down his spine, nips at his shoulder blades.
"God, oh God," Spencer says over and over again.
Brendon kisses his way down Spencer's back, slides his hands over Spencer's pale, round ass. It feels so good in his hands that he leans down to kiss it, and Spencer shudders. Brendon grins and kisses the top of Spencer's crack, bites down on his left cheek, then kisses the place where he bit. Spencer's hips are rocking against the mattress, but when Brendon spreads his ass and dips his tongue down to flick against his hole, he freezes. He freezes, then he shudders and arches back and groans, "Oh, God," deep in his throat.
Brendon knows encouragement when he hears it, so he positions himself a little better between Spencer's legs and leans down. He licks at Spencer's hole for a while, flat laps of his tongue alternated with little flicks of the tip and the sounds Spencer's making are amazing. He's totally pliant as Brendon shoves one thigh up a little bit for better access. Spencer's moans are soft and desperate, and he turns his face into the mattress to muffle it.
"Don't," Brendon says, sliding his thumb over Spencer's hole. "Wanna hear you."
Spencer gasps when the tip of Brendon's thumb presses inside. "I want," he whispers, arching back into Brendon's touch. "Want you to."
"Mmm, yeah." Brendon kisses the base of Spencer's spine again. "Supplies?"
Spencer props himself up on his elbows, pushes himself forward enough to reach his beside table. He tosses Brendon a full box of condoms and a mostly empty bottle of lube.
What Brendon really wants is to roll on a condom and shove right into Spencer's tight ass. What he does instead, though, is slick his fingers up and slide two inside. Spencer's so hot, so tight around his fingers, it makes Brendon want so much his mouth waters. He tries not to think about what it's going to feel like when he gets his cock inside because Spencer really is tight, probably hasn't had anyone inside him for a while, and Brendon wants to make it just as good for him.
He fucks Spencer with his fingers, licks around them, until Spencer's moaning steadily and rocking his hips in time. Then Brendon pulls away and reaches for the condoms. "Over," he says, one hand on Spencer's hip as he lifts the condom packet to his mouth. He tears it open with his teeth, presses on Spencer's hip again. "On your back. Wanna see your face."
Spencer rolls onto his back, and he's gorgeous, skin flushed pink, sheen of sweat just barely covering his brow. Brendon grins at him as he slides the condom on, and as he presses inside, Spencer's back arches and his eyes close.
Brendon shakes and Spencer says, "It's good. Don't hold back." So Brendon doesn't, fucks into Spencer until they're both trembling and moaning and when Brendon comes, it's so hard that his vision whites out.
He comes to after a moment, less than a minute, belly sticky with Spencer's come, and they lie there panting and gazing at each other for a long time. "Hi," Brendon says eventually, and he knows he's smiling like an idiot but he can't help it.
"Hey," Spencer says softly, reaching out to brush Brendon's hair off his sweaty forehead.
Brendon knows most guys don't like to snuggle after sex, but he moves forward anyway and Spencer doesn't seem to mind, slides his arm over Brendon's shoulders and lets Brendon press up close.
"I'm probably going to sleep for a little while," Brendon says.
"Okay."
Brendon closes his eyes and smiles against Spencer's shoulder as Spencer's fingers trace round, gentle shapes on his skin. He dozes for a little while, never really falling asleep, just drifting in and out. "You're really comfortable," he murmurs, stretching his leg up to drape over Spencer's hips.
"Lots of padding," Spencer says. He sounds sleepy, too.
Brendon turns and bites at Spencer's collarbone to show his disapproval of Spencer's self-deprecation. Then he kisses Spencer's neck, trails the tip of his nose up the beard on Spencer's jaw. "Fuzzy," he murmurs.
"I, uh, I just. I thought I'd try it for a while. I've only had it a few months."
"Sexy," Brendon tells him. They kiss lazily for a while and Brendon's turned on again, but he's not frantic with it. It feels nice to kiss Spencer, to stroke his arms and his back and his ass, to feel Spencer's dick swelling just a little bit against his thigh.
"Can't keep my hands off you," Spencer whispers, and it's true. He never stops touching Brendon, touches his face as they kiss, runs his fingers through Brendon's hair, grips Brendon's hip to pull him closer.
"It's nice," Brendon admits. He loves the way Spencer's hands feel on him.
"How'd you get this?" Spencer asks as his thumb travels over the scar that cuts through Brendon's eyebrow.
"Flipped off a trampoline when I was eleven."
Spencer kisses the scar gently.
"I should probably come up with a cooler story for it, say I almost got eaten by one of the tigers at the Mirage or something."
Spencer smiles sleepily and shakes his head.
"What about you? Got any cool scars?"
"Not cool ones," Spencer says. He stops touching Brendon long enough to show him a jagged line on the heel of his palm. "Tripped over a curb when I lived in Chicago, landed on broken glass. I wasn't even drunk. Just clumsy."
Brendon slides his fingers over the smooth skin of Spencer's scar, then laces their fingers together.
"Do you want to go back to the party?" Spencer asks softly.
Brendon shakes his head. "Not really."
Spencer smiles, then, sleepy and pleased, and Brendon's chest feels tight at the sight of it. He kisses Spencer over and over again, gasps against his mouth and grinds against Spencer's hip. "What do you want?"
"Anything," Spencer whispers. "Doesn't matter."
"Tell me." Brendon kisses Spencer's mouth, his jaw, down his neck. "Tell me what you want."
"Your mouth. Want your mouth on me."
He smiles against Spencer's skin, kisses his collarbones and the hollow of his throat. "Like this? You want my mouth here?"
Spencer sighs brokenly, but he says, "Yeah, I. Anything. Whatever you want to do."
Brendon surges up, kisses Spencer hard and slides his fingers through Spencer's hair. "Tell me," he says again. "Tell me where you want my mouth."
"On my cock," Spencer whispers, eyes closed. He's blushing and Brendon thinks he's so, so beautiful. "Want your mouth on my cock."
"You want me to kiss it?" Brendon asks as he slides slowly downwards. "Lick it? You want me to suck it?"
"Yes. All of that. God."
Spencer's thighs tremble as Brendon takes him in, and he moans softly into his fist until Brendon lifts his head up and whispers, "Want to hear you." Spencer's still quiet after that, but he doesn't try to muffle his moans. Brendon surges up at the last moment to kiss him, and they come nearly simultaneously, rubbing their cocks together.
After that, Brendon sleeps, hard and dreamless, until the early morning, gray light just starting to come in through the curtains. He wakes up a little confused as to why he's got a warm body curled along the length of his back, but as Spencer's fingers stroke lazily over his hip, he remember and smiles. He arches back into Spencer's touch and twists his head back hoping for a kiss. Spencer makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat as Brendon rubs his ass against Spencer's dick, then lifts up and leans down to kiss him.
"Want you to fuck me," Brendon murmurs against Spencer's mouth.
"Yeah," Spencer whispers, fingers tightening on Brendon's hip as he kisses him sleepy slow.
Brendon's entire body aches, his muscles sore and pushed nearly to the point of exhaustion, but he still arches back into every one of Spencer's thrusts, still claws at the sheets and groans steadily as Spencer fucks him, gentle and deliberate.
The next time Brendon wakes up, he's alone. He sits up slowly, rubbing his face, then rakes his hands through his hair and smiles, thinking of the way Spencer had kissed him to sleep after the third time. He finds his clothes strewn around Spencer's room and cautiously opens the bedroom door. On his way to find the stairs, he stops into the bathroom and rinses his mouth out with cool water, tries to smooth his hair down the best he can.
Brendon pauses in the hallway to look at the photographs there. He'd been a little distracted the night before, hadn't even noticed there were pictures on the wall, let alone what they were. There's a photograph of a dark, mossy forest, the face of a barred owl just barely visible, staring straight at the camera from behind moss-covered branches. There's a photograph of a sunrise over a thick pine forest. There's a photograph of a baby gorilla just hanging out on the top of her mother's head, one of trees and a slow moving stream shrouded in mist.
The photographs are all over the house, and Brendon stops to look at most of them as he follows the scent of coffee. "Dude," he says to Cassie, who's standing in front of the coffee maker, watching it drip. "Okay, first of all, I think you might have a caffeine addiction."
"I'm a junkie," Cassie says with a shrug, not taking her eyes off the pot.
"Well, as long as you admit it, I guess. Have you seen the pictures in this place? They're fucking badass."
"Mmm," says Cassie with a nod. "Spencer's amazing."
"Spencer took them? Like, all of them?"
"That's his job. He does wilderness photography for a couple of magazines, does freelance work for conservation companies. Come on, come on," she says to the coffee pot.
"But there was, like, a picture of a fucking cheetah back there. Like, a cheetah looking right at the fucking camera, right at Spencer, and he just. He just goes out and chills with vicious carnivores?"
"Mmm," she says with a nod. "And where were you all night? We totally thought you hooked up with somebody when you never came back with Jon's beer."
"Oh. I, um." Despite the fact that he does porn a couple times a year, Brendon's not the type to kiss and tell. "I crashed here."
Just then, the sliding glass door opens and Jon, Ryan, and Spencer stumble in from the back patio. Spencer looks warm and sleep-rumpled and it's been so long since Brendon felt like this, since his heart actually sped up at just the sight of someone. He smiles when he realizes that he has actual butterflies in his stomach.
"Hey," Jon says with a sleepy, stoned smile. "I didn't know you were here, Bden. You totally could have wake and baked with us."
"Oh, my God," says Cassie. "It's like college all over again."
Brendon bites his lip as he looks over at Spencer. He kind of wants to kiss him, at least wants to snuggle up to him or hold his hand or something, but with Jon and Cassie and Ryan there, he's not sure if he should. "Hey," he says softly.
Spencer tugs on his hair and pointedly doesn't look at Brendon. "I'll catch you guys later," he says. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on."
"No, hey," says Jon, reaching out to bat at Spencer's arm. "Dude, we need to hang out. Weren't you going to take me and Cassie to that sushi place you like?"
"Yeah, I, uh, I've got some contracts I need to look over or whatever so, um." He shrugs and leaves the kitchen. Brendon looks down at the floor as he hears Spencer's keys jingle, as he hears the front door open and close. The butterflies have turned to a stone in the pit of his stomach and he tries to swallow to make it go away. It doesn't matter. Spencer's just a guy and Brendon will be fine.
"What the fuck was that about?" Jon asks. "Like, two minutes ago we were making plans to hang out today."
"It's probably Brendon," Ryan says easily, and Brendon hates him a little bit. "You know he's totally Spencer's favorite porn star in the history of, like, ever."
"Really?" Jon asks.
"Oh, yeah. Like I'll ask him to come hang out with me at a book signing and he'll be all, 'Oh, I can't, there's a new Brendon video up on the site.'"
"Huh," says Jon. "You sure he just doesn't want to come to your book signings? They're kind of dull, man."
Ryan shrugs. "He usually comes when I ask him. He's just, seriously. You should hear him talk about you, 'Oh, Brendon's so gorgeous, oh, Brendon's perfect mouth, oh, why can't I meet a guy like Brendon?' It was fucking hilarious when he saw the video of you with Jon, like, I've never seen him so pale."
"Yeah, hilarious," Brendon whispers. He swallows hard again and tells himself that he only feels like shit because he's hungover, even though he hasn't had anything to drink in over twenty-four hours.
"Ryan," Cassie says softly, ignoring the coffee maker completely in order to put her hand on Ryan's arm. "Hey."
"What?" Ryan asks.
"Remember last year when we had that conversation about you being insensitive?"
"Spencer's not even here," Ryan says. "And if he's going to be such a pussy that he can't even be in the same room with the guy he's jerked off to, like, a million times, then he deserves the shit talk he gets."
"Insensitive," Cassie says again. She cuts a glance towards Brendon and he can tell that she knows. The pity in her eyes just makes him want to die a little bit more. He's had one-night stands before, but this is the first time he's ever been somebody's trophy fuck.
Ryan rolls his eyes. "I'll apologize to Spencer later, okay? Who wants waffles?"
"Waffles," says Jon happily. "Brendon, waffles?"
"Not very hungry," says Brendon, patting his pockets. He's got his phone and his wallet and his keys. "You guys have fun, though."
He ignores Cassie's soft, "Brendon, hey," and heads out the front door. His little red Yaris is the only car still parked on the street, and in the midst of so many giant houses it looks completely out of place. His sunglasses are, thankfully, on the passenger seat, and he slides them on as he starts his car. He can't wait to get back to his neighborhood of normal-sized houses and cookie-cutter apartments, can't wait to shower and get the smell of Spencer off his skin.
part two