by Max Hudson
My lips slipped down his neck and hovered near his collar bone.
“Don’t leave marks. I don’t have anything to cover it with on the flight,” he whispered, tipping his head back. His eyes were closed, back arched and his fingers gripped my forearms lightly. He looked like perfect surrender.
Lust electrified the space between us, filling the air with a hum that radiated through my teeth and into my bones. I gripped his neck, my thumb rubbing against the throbbing pulse, watching with strange fascination as his skin grew flush, and then taut as his body flexed in anticipation. It was too much of a temptation. I hesitated to regain control of my impulses.
I crowded him, pushing him back onto the bed. He flopped down willingly and looked up at me with wide, guileless eyes. I followed him down, running my fingers along the skin down the inside of his arms. Doug opened his arms wide, leaving nothing obstructed from my view. He closed his eyes as I lowered my lips to his chest, tasting the skin and searching for hidden sensations. He made soft sighs as I took my time playing across his skin. I moved farther out, running my fingers along the side of his body and he chuckled. Something deep in the pit of my stomach clenched tight in response and a hot need surged through my veins.
I let myself play, using my teeth and my nails to score his skin in places I knew would be raw once we were done, and concealed under the smart uniform. The thought of him moving about in the cabin of that plane with my marks on his skin, or brushing past a colleague with the patches of newly sensitized skin sending tingles down his spine was enough of a turn on to make me lose my shit.
“No fair,” he whined as I ate away at the crevice along his hip, my hand stroking his cock.
“Who said anything about fair?”
He pushed my head away, kicking at me until I stood over him, naked and panting. I looked down at him, hormones and confusion clouding my mind. He propped himself up on his elbows and let his legs fall open wantonly, giving me an unobstructed view of his body. I touched the tip of my tongue to my lip and gripped my balls hard. He smiled. Shit, who wasn’t playing fair now?
He palmed his cock and began to stroke it vigorously, pleasure written all over his face. He was teasing me and the look on his face told me he was enjoying my frustration. And yet, I had no intention to make him stop. It was a war of wills and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking me.
That was, until his eyes rolled into his head and a soft sigh escaped his inflamed lips. I dropped to my knees and touched the tip of my tongue to the base of his shaft, lapping at his balls and slowly making my way down to his virgin sphincter. He jumped and shuddered, but didn’t push away. He moaned, and his hips bucked as the tip of my tongue made contact with its target, but he didn’t run away.
I licked at it until it began to give way. He moaned loudly and plopped back on the mattress, his hands between his thighs, stroking his cock and gripping his balls as I tortured his puckered entrance. Satisfied that he was ready, I slipped my finger into his body. He accepted it easily with a soft hissing sound. His face was drenched in ecstasy. I sat back on my heels to watch. As much as I enjoyed performing, I loved to watch, especially when it wasn’t a performance. Those moments when the script went out of the window and it was just two people pleasing each other were magic for me.
I pressed my advantage, stimulating him with my finger. I saw him wrestle with his impulses, his face clouding over as I drove him closer and closer to his climax.
“Don’t get shy now. You wanted to play, let’s play,” I growled, slipping a second finger inside. He cried out as I continued my onslaught. A jet of hot, thick cum spewed from his distended cock and he gasped for breath. The vision of him, collapsed on the bed, stained by his own semen was enough to send me over the edge. I barely touched my cock before the familiar tension in my balls seeped into my bloodstream and sent me tumbling over right behind him. I gasped for breath and jerked my cock aggressively as I came.
“Not too shabby after a night out,” I said, sitting on the floor with my back against the mattress. He rolled over and threw his arms around my neck, resting his head on my shoulder.
“Not bad at all,” he said, kissing the side of my face.
“Next time, let’s just stay in and do this instead.”
He shook his head. “Next time I’ll be more careful, and so will you. I’m not ashamed of you and I don’t want you to become my private play thing. If this is going to be a real relationship then we are just going to have to figure out how to be together in public, and watch each other’s back.”
“You shouldn’t have to watch your back.”
“Life ain’t fair,” he said with a shrug, hugging me tighter.
“True. So, boyfriends, huh? I’m still getting used to it, but I like it more and more each day.”
“Good, because I like you more and more every day. Now,” he sat up, “feed me.”
Chapter Eight
I felt like I’d been in a marathon, despite the paltry number of hours I actually worked today. It was normal. Today I’d filmed a scene that ended up taking much longer than anticipated and was much less enjoyable than I expected.
“You’re getting old,” I told myself. I looked up at the clock. Doug was due back at any minute. Tonight, I was looking forward to holding him. I just wanted his body close to mine. I wanted to feel something after a long day of meaningless intimacy.
I retrieved an old leather notebook from my bag and flipped to the page I’d bookmarked. I recorded the names of my scene partners along with the date, what acts we performed, whether or not we used protection. This time it was just fetish stuff. No penetration, but I still kept track. It was a little juvenile. I had a manager, and he kept records of all of my on-screen work, but there was something satisfying about having that “little black book” as proof that Max Lover was a virile beast, even when Max Glover didn’t feel that way. I put the book back into my bag and slipped into some underwear just as Doug walked through the door.
“Honey. I’m home,” he said, kissing me on the cheek and slapping me on the ass as he dropped his bag.
“Had a good flight?”
“As good as can be expected,” he stripped off the jacket and vest and hung them neatly in the closet.
“I ordered dinner, it should be here soon. I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food. Why don’t you get a shower?”
He nodded and went into the bathroom. My phone rang on the nightstand.
“Hi, did you order from GrabNGrub? I’m looking for the address, but I think I’m a little lost.”
I rolled my eyes. After nearly a month here, it seemed that owners had built the most inconspicuous residential hotel in the country. Everybody seemed to recognize the building, but nobody knew what it was. I slipped into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
“Meet me at the corner of Lake and Donovan,” I said, referring to the intersection just outside the building.
I knocked on the door of the bathroom.
“I’m going to the corner, I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Do you have an extra deodorant. I think I forgot mine?” he said, popping his head out of the shower.
“It’s in my bag,” I said, turning to leave.
Slipping my keys into my pocket, I made my way downstairs in my thong sandals. The driver was parked with the characteristic orange vest with the delivery service logo in silver reflective material on the back.
“Sorry about this, man. I ride up and down this street a million times a day and I never knew there was a hotel,” the kid on the bike said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.” I tried to be cordial, but the fatigue in my body, and an unsettled feeling in my chest, made my words come out with a bite that I hadn’t intended. Annoyed by me and him, I shoved the money into his hands. “Keep the change,” I said over my shoulder and I turned around and charged back into the building.
When I got back to the suite, Doug was crouched over my bag, deep in thought.
“Found something interesting?” I set the food on the counter and fished around for some plastic flatware.
“Maybe.”
His tone of voice brought me up short. I took another, closer look at what he was doing and all the blood in my body reversed direction as I saw the beat-up black leather notebook in his hand.
“What you got there?” I struggled to keep my voice from climbing an octave.
“You tell me. There are a lot of names in here, and a lot of shit… I don’t even know what half of this shit is.”
“It’s nothing. Just work. I like to keep track.”
I watched his face carefully. He was good at hiding his first reaction. That was what made him a great flight attendant. Even if he was disgusted, he wouldn’t let it show. But, if you watched his eyes carefully, his true feelings were discernable for just a second. Maybe a tenth of a second. You’d miss it if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but it was enough to let you know how much shit you were really in.
This time there was barely any reason for me to panic. The look in his eyes was the same one on his face. Disbelief.
“How many of these do you have?”
“I’ve been in this business for a few years, Doug.” I had at least one for every year, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that.
“Jesus, Max. There weren’t this many kids in my high school’s graduating class. And, if this guy on page 67 is who I think he is, he was in my graduating class!”
“I never record stage names or aliases. It makes it easier to find somebody if you have to,” I mumbled as if that little detail was helpful at all.
“What are you even doing here with me?” He stood up, his hair still wet and hanging in his face. He looked lost and as unsure of himself as I was feeling at the moment.
“What do you mean?”
He picked up the notebook and shook it in front of my face.
“Look at this. And this is just from the last few months. You could be here with anybody. You could have anybody. You’ve had all of these guys. Why are you here playing footsie with somebody like me?” He folded his arms across his chest.
“I like you.”
“Why?” He lifted his chin and met my eyes. His body language was defiant, but his eyes gave him away. In reality, he was looking for a reason to stay, praying that whatever I said next was going to be the magic bullet that finally put his insecurities to rest. This relationship depended on my next move and I had no idea what to say.
“You make me nervous,” I sat down on the loveseat in the living area that separated us. “All of those guys in there, I wasn’t nervous at all. I knew exactly what I was doing. I had a good time, most of the time, but I knew that even if it wasn’t great, everybody was going to act like it was. It was work. I was in control. Nobody took anything personally. We were professional and courteous, and we did great fucking work. With you it's different. Every time we’re together I am completely out of control and I have no fucking idea how to control you. And, I don’t even want to. When I’m with you I feel things and it’s fucking amazing. I feel like I’m a kid again, only this time when I feel butterflies in my stomach or my heart pounding in my chest, it doesn’t trigger shame and self-loathing. I get to enjoy falling in love with you. And it’s uncomplicated and unchoreographed and everything in that book you’re holding is the exact opposite of that. Every moment with those guys was scripted, choreographed, rehearsed, and done in front of a live audience.”
He walked over to where I was sitting and leaned one hip against the arm of the loveseat.
“That sounds awful,” he said.
“It's not. I swear. But it's not as glamorous as people think. And this,” I took the book from his hand. “This is proof of how glamorous it's not. If I don’t write it down, it all turns into a blur. I didn’t set out to be like this, you know.”
I rested my forehead against his body and he ran a hand through my hair.
“I know. Nobody ever does. We all just end up where we are. But this is a lot to take in, Max. How am I supposed to take this?”
“I don’t know. I told you, this is virgin territory for me too. What do you want to do?”
“I want to not feel like there is a huge list of random guys who’ve all had sex with you standing between us.”
“I don’t know how to make that happen for you. But I know one list that you are on that is very exclusive.”
“And what’s that?”
“The list of people who have had any part of my heart. You’ve got my whole heart, kid. Did you know that? Did you know, I couldn’t wait for you to get back today? All I wanted to do was lie in bed next to you and cuddle. I swear to fucking God, Doug, there are days that I wish this was about sex. Like, at all. I can handle that. I can make you come without busting a sweat. But this right here scares the shit out of me. I am so afraid of losing you. And I’m fucked up because I fucking love it. It’s like sky diving or bungee jumping. You either love it, or you hate it and you never fucking do it again, and every time I get you alone behind closed doors I know I’m going to fucking jump. I’m addicted.”
He ran his hands through my hair and cradled my head against his chest, and I let him because I was shaking, and I felt like I wanted to cry, and I couldn’t figure out why.
“You’re the most fucked up adrenaline junkie I’ve ever met.”
“Is that a good thing?”
He leaned over and kissed the top of my head softly.
“It’s probably the best thing. But we have to do something about this, Max. I can let the past be the past. I can live with that. But I don’t want this to be the future.”
“This is my career.”
“But I thought you said that most of your money doesn’t come from porn.”
“It doesn’t, but it helps and it keeps me relevant,” I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. “I can meet you halfway. I can be more specific about who I perform with and what I do. I can slow it down. But this is part of the gig, Doug. I’m not planning to do this forever. I have an exit strategy, but I’m not ready to quit yet. I really enjoy my work and I’m not ready to give it up.”
“Not even for me?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t make me choose. We made it this far because you never made me choose.”
“Okay, then what’s your exit strategy?”
“Marijuana.”
He burst into laughter, throwing his head back and letting the sound ripple up through his body. It was the best sound.
“You just jump from the pan into the fire, don’t you?”
“It’s legal and it’s lucrative,” I argued, feeling the knots in my stomach begin to melt away.
“So is porn, but it’s very controversial. You are just hell bent and determined to make it hard for me to introduce you to friends and family, aren’t you?”
“Well, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” I said, turning my face up to his and watching his easy smile.
“I do, don’t I.”
I took the book from his hands and laid it on the table.
“Now, about dinner.”
“It's probably cold by now.”
“I wasn’t very hungry in the first place,” I shrugged.
“I had a late lunch. But I could eat.”
“Fine, it's settled, we’ll eat later.”
He laughed again. “How is that settled?”
“On to the next point of order. Back to this cuddling thing. Since I’m in the dog house you get to decide. Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”
“What?”
I stood up and pulled him to his feet.
“Also, shirts or skins. Although I can’t promise you that we’ll stay dressed until morning. But you get to decide how we proceed,” I teased, pulling at his robe.
“Oh goody!” he clapped his hands like a three-year-old and jumped into my arms. “I choose skins, and I get to be the big spoon.”
His eyes washed my face
in their warmth and I felt the weight of the day dissipate, and the fatigue in my bones disappeared.
“You got it. Anything you want, kid,” I said, kissing his smiling lips. The sweetness of the moment exploded in my mouth and my hands made short work of the strips of cloth separating our bodies. We crawled into bed and he pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair and nuzzling my neck. The smell of his skin was soothing and the sound of his heart beating under my ear was the last thing I remember hearing before the sun poured in through the window.
Chapter Nine
Every entertainer has a route; a set of clubs where they know they can make good money on a regular basis. This was one of mine. Cheetah’s was one of those fixtures in the community where everybody knew they could come and have a good time. It hosted all kinds of events, from birthday parties to hen-nights, and when the right names were on the marquee, it wasn’t hard to have the house packed until dawn.
Tonight, I’d been booked to host and to perform. I did my job, the same as always, and had more fun than I thought I would. Ever since my last video shoot, I’d been taking a lot of personal inventory. What parts of my job did I enjoy most? What was I willing to give up? How could I trim the fat to make more time for my personal life?
I’d been talking to my manager, trying to work out how we were going to handle my career, especially if I was going to slow down on the porn side of things. I still had contractual obligations for promotional events, but I told him not to book me for any more shoots until I was ready. And I was beginning to think that I would never be ready.
“I just don’t want to be a one trick pony. It’s better to leave them wanting more, right?” I’d said to Sean. He didn’t look convinced. He’d been in this business long enough and managed enough performers to know the signs.
“I keep trying to tell you, don’t get too deeply involved. I know you are feeling this guy, and he might even be into you, but in a few years, you’re going to break up and then you are going to want to come back. Only then you have to start at the bottom and work your way back up.”