by Damon Suede
When Griff and the waitress had finished figuring out their meal (noodles, squid, pork buns), Dante raised his Kingfisher beer in a toast, but he didn’t say any of the things he could. He didn’t have to; they were thinking the same thing:
things he could. He didn’t have to; they were thinking the same thing:
Thank you, buddy…. Nearly home free and out of the crazy…. Nothing’s been wrecked beyond salvage…. Everything is what and where and when it needs to be…. And oh yeah, you are my favorite fucking person on this earth.
Griff raised his own beer, readier than he’d ever been in his entire life to laugh about nothing special with the only person who would always be special to him.
- Clink -
The dinner almost lived up to the company.
Chapter 13
DANTE was practicaly chipper when they met Alek that Wednesday. He ambled inside the HotHead studio like an old friend and greeted Alek with a backslapping hug.
Griff folowed close behind, the duffel ful of gear slung over one shoulder. Half of him wanted the day to be over already; half never wanted the day to end.
Alek was as polite as always, apologizing for the cold temperatures and offering drinks.
Griff didn’t have a shot of whiskey, but only because it was 11 a.m. and he was starting to feel like a boozer. He opted for a bottle of water. The cold air was actualy nice against his hot skin. In truth, the lights in the sitting room studio were warm, and Griff knew it would get sweaty before the day was done.
Alek was shifting furniture and setting equipment. He circled back with the clipboards so the two friends could sign their agreements for the day. He nodded his approval. “And your lab work?”
Dante snapped his fingers and dug around in the duffel, puling out two wrinkled medical forms.
Griff blushed. He and Dante had gone and sat in a clinic in Chelsea to get swabs and blood drawn, like an engaged couple applying for a marriage license.
They were sexualy active men, so they were just keeping an eye out. It was overkil anyway; they were both tested regularly for the FDNY. Part of the job.
Nevertheless, when they’d booked today’s shoot, Alek had been insistent about it—for his records, he’d said. Those pieces of paper said they were free of HIV and hepatitis and the clap and SARS and whatever-the-hel else—squeaky clean and ready to rumble. Alek nodded at the forms and took them back to his desk.
While they were waiting for Alek to finish at the desk, Dante nudged Griff. “So we’re good with whatever. I mean, like, you don’t have to worry if you happen to get anything on your skin or in your mouth.” Dante fake grimaced, like he was making a joke. He wasn’t. “I don’t want you to get freaked out.”
“I won’t get freaked, D. I’m a big boy.”
“No shit.” Dante squatted next to the duffel and puled out their turnout gear. He muttered under his breath to Griff. “The whole thing today is those extended activities. For the bonuses. Folow my lead.”
“Yeah. It’s fine, D. Whatever you think. Let’s get this shit done.” Griff accepted his folded pants, trying to look like he didn’t want Dante extended and active on him.
“Okay. Cool.” Dante puled his T-shirt off, mussing his black hair. He shook his head and squinted an eye at Griff.
Griff squinted back. “You got a plan, right? You know the things you want us to do.” Dante nodded. “Al set. Al of it’s pretty harmless; I don’t want to freak you out.”
Griff realized that Dante thought his resistance was revulsion. That would help. “No freaking. Let’s just get it done, man.”
“I picked out the stuff that pays good-sized bonuses… without us, you know, having to completely queer out on each other.” God forbid.
“Sure.” Griff puled off his own shirt and pants, standing there in his boxer briefs. This seemed almost natural now. Amazing how things started to seem normal over time. This HotHead crap had loosened him up so much. That’s something, I guess. Maybe when this was over, Griff would be able to figure out how to meet a guy who actualy wanted him back.
Dante shook out his wadded bunker pants. “Whatever I do, just act like you realy, realy like it.”
“Not a problem.” And it certainly wasn’t.
“Thanks, man. I’l make it up to you. I swear.”
That’ll be the day.
Griff caled across the room to Alek. “What do you want us wearing?”
Alek looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Hmm. Just the pants, I think. Suspenders over your bare chests. Maybe your boots?”
“Helmets?” Dante bent and grabbed their helmets, holding them up on his two hands like hard puppets. “I finaly remembered to grab them.”
“Absolutely!” Alek beamed his approval. “You can discard them whenever you like, but helmets to start, definitely.” Griff took his; Dante had taped over anything identifiable. Standing in his pants and helmet and bare chest looked exactly like—
“’S’like posing for the calendar.” Dante chuckled and shot him a look.
“I wouldn’t know.” Griff shrugged, unsure how to defuse the situation.
“Wel, except for the cocksucking.”
Griff grimaced and ducked his head. He focused on getting undressed.
“Hey, Alek, you want us to, you know, weed-whack at al?” Dante tugged at his pubic hair. “Clip the curlies.”
“Uh, no. Our members prefer natural hair. Are both of you…?”
“Manscaped?” Dante smiled. “I’m fucking Italian; I been mowing my lawn since I was thirteen. My brothers taught me.” Jesus. “I’m not.” Griff’s eyes bulged. He’d never thought about trimming down there.
Dante gave his crotch a once over. “Griff’s pretty neat on his own. Scottish hedge!” He snorted.
Griff did not.
Once they were in their half-gear and helmets, Alek gestured them onto the set; he was already snapping stils and filming them from a tripod. He’d done this the last time for legal purposes, filming their signed contracts and their ID. Then he had them face the lens to state their names and ages and their permission to be filmed. “Have either of you been coerced or threatened in any way?”
Griff chuckled. “Hardly.”
Dante spoke up. “Nope. We’re here to shoot a blowjob scene for HotHead. And we’re psyched.” Whoo-hoo!
Griff had a sudden uncanny feeling that he was a game piece on an enormous, ridiculous board game with house fires and bar fights and cum-shots. He tried to think back over the steps that had led them to this room on this day doing these things for this website.
Life is so weird.
Alek looked over the paperwork. “And you have agreed to perform felatio on Mr. Muir?” Dante nodded and tapped a page of his contract. “Uh. Yeah. And we’re gonna try to do a little more too, if that’s okay.”
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Anastagio. As long as you both feel comfortable.”
Griff cracked his neck and tried to relax his shoulders. In a couple hours this would be over and Dante’s house would be safe and things would go back to normal, if that was even possible.
In the sitting room set, the coffee table was gone and the carpet area was bare. Alek snapped more pictures.
“I wanted to give you space to move around: seats, floor, wal.” Alek pointed at two cameras on high stands aimed down. “Those wil run the whole time, and I’l be walking through with this.” He held up his own compact video camera.
Alek gestured at a pile of slick magazines, women spread and pert and airbrushed. “If you need magazines. To keep yourselves hard.” Dante roled his eyes. “You kidding? My junk’s like iron, man. Once it’s up it won’t go down.”
“Often when straight models are asked to work together, it can be a problem.” Alek was giving them permission to lose their erections.
Griff decided right then to try and lose his erection at some point if it was possible. Fat fucking chance. He adjusted the helmet on his head.
“The main thing is to stay relaxed
as possible. We’l take it in stages. When either of you needs a break, let me know.” Alek looked between them. Griff nodded. “Speak to me at any point. Feel free to shift position or make suggestions. I can edit around anything but your ejaculations.” Alek climbed on a short ladder to adjust a foil square bouncing light at the set. He snapped a couple shots from up there, then resumed taping.
Dante leaned over. “Hey, G. You gotta talk as much as possible. Okay? Dirty talk gives us a bump.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you want me to…?”
“Whatever feels good, tel me. Real nasty. Tel me how to suck it. Talk to me.”
Griff nodded. “I’l try.”
“Dirty as you want, man. Don’t be gentle; don’t be nice. I can take it. It’s al good, yeah?” Even in his helmet and worn bunker pants, Dante looked like a prince: the perfect profile, the soft waves of his hair.
Griff swalowed. “You got it.”
Dante stepped closer, so they were almost face to face in their pants and suspenders. “I don’t know how far I can go, but if you make me, I bet I can go further. And that’s more cash. I want to, okay? Far as you can push me.”
“I feel strange doing that, forcing you to do stuff.” Like Tommy.
“I’m asking you to.” Dante looked awkward.
Then Alek stepped close and turned them loose on the set. He welcomed them to the site and asked them to introduce themselves.
“’S’up, guys!” Dante hammed it up for the camera, leaning down into frame. He was straddling the arm of the overstuffed chair where Griff was sitting so their legs overlapped. He squeezed Griff’s shoulder roughly. “My buddy’s got a problem.” Griff knew his mouth was a tight, uncomfortable line, but he waved.
Alek knelt for a side view of the chair and signaled Dante down.
Dante waved as wel and set the scene for the fans, perched on the arm of Griff’s chair. “Uhh, hi guys. So, Duff’s girlfriend has been holding out, but he can’t cheat with some broad. Not how he rols, right? And since we’re buddies….” Dante slid off the chair arm and down to the floor. “I thought maybe I could, ya know, help out.”
His shoulders looked olive under the stark red suspenders. Then he was crouched between Griff’s spread thighs, looking up through his lashes with a bad-boy twinkle as he took off the helmet. He gingerly rested his hands on Griff’s knees and waited for permission. “This okay, man?” Griff gave a grunt of assent and then realized Alek wanted him to use words. “Fucking great.” He licked his dry lips.
Dante leaned forward over his torso, close enough that warmth bounced between them.
With half-lidded eyes, Griff watched Dante lift a hand and run it over his rust-furred chest, brushing the pink nipples so that they tightened and peaked. He could feel Dante’s breath on his colarbone. He felt drugged by the spiraling pleasure, like he was bound to the chair, Dante’s captive. His cannon surged inside his bunker pants. He shifted his butt in the chair, enjoying the delicious ache. There wasn’t even whiskey in his veins to blame.
“That feels fuckin’ crazy,” Griff murmured.
Dante looked up at him, surprised, and then hooked his mouth into a dirty smile. He nodded and leaned over to suck lightly on Griff’s tit.
Alek stepped around to the side, camera angled down at Dante grazing over the chiseled slope of Griff’s pectorals. He gave them a thumbs-up.
Ka-ching! Griff practicaly heard Alek’s thumb jingle like a cash register. Dirty talk would mean a bigger bonus. Everybody would get something they wanted if Griff just fucking gave in to temptation.
Be with him. Be grateful. Be brave.
So Griff held Dante’s head with his wide hand, threading his fingers through the curls to tug that wine-stain mouth to his other pale pec. He thought about Tommy being manhandled in that aley and squeezed tighter, yanking Dante’s hair.
Groaning at the pressure, Dante nuzzled and nursed hungrily at him, biting and licking at both sensitive nubs until they stood hard and rosy under the red suspenders. Griff let Dante raise his arm and lick his pit. Dante pushed his face right into the bright hairs buried there and licked the sensitive skin hard.
Griff shivered. “Different than a chick, huh?” Dante’s mouth made him jerk pleasurably like he was having a seizure.
Dante nuzzled and sucked at his pit until Griff yanked his head to the other side and raised that arm, offering the other muscular holow for the same treatment.
Dante dove in hungrily. When he raised his dark eyes, Dante was panting and his swolen mouth was wet. “So different. So fucking strong.” Alek pushed in close, zooming in on Dante’s wet tongue as it slicked the bright hair under Griff’s massive arms, then over the swolen biceps.
Griff watched his friend act hungry. “You’re eating it, man. Does it taste good?”
Dante pushed his wet face back into his friend’s brawny chest, rubbing against the crisp red hair like a cat. He was talking under his breath. “I thought about it. At the firehouse. In the shower, in the bunk, in the damn rig….”
More porn bulshit. Griff could almost hear the invisible bonus meter roling: ka-ching, ka-jing-ching.
He moaned anyway. He didn’t care if it was a lie, and his dick didn’t know the difference. He took hold of Dante’s hand roughly, dragging it back to the wad of meat flaring his zipper.
Griff’s voice was hoarse and urgent. “I’m right here, man. You don’t have to think about it.” Then he stood over his best friend, forcing his head back, and recited state capitals silently to keep himself from getting hard too fast.
Think about anything else. Don’t watch him. Don’t shoot in sixty seconds.
Dante squeezed his basket carefuly, mapping it through the quilted fabric. His eyes were locked below the curl of cinnamon that circled Griff’s navel and plunged out of sight. “Fuck, dude. Meat and potatoes.”
Alek knelt to get a tight profile of Dante worshipping the monster.
I can do this.
Griff’s blush washed hot across his shoulders and chest, thankfuly out of frame, baking his face with excruciating shyness. “C’mon, buddy. Don’t be shy.” Dante popped a button with shaking fingers.
“Not like that. Use your fucking mouth.” Again he puled at Dante’s head.
Dante’s eyes flicked up to his. An imperceptible nod told Griff he was playing this exactly right.
Good boy.
Dante pressed his Roman profile into the crotch of the pants, searching for the zipper with his tongue. He caught it and bit down, tugging it between his gleaming teeth. The thick, hooded shaft sprang forward, dabbing Dante’s cheek.
“Good boy….” Griff dropped one of his suspenders so only one strap, his erection, and the high curve of his asscheeks were holding his pants up.
A purring sound below him. Dante was making a low rumble of pleasure in his chest. Then, without warning, Dante pushed him hard so that he fel back onto the leather throne, knees splayed, his bals pooling on the leather. His helmet was knocked loose and spun on the carpet like an upended turtle.
“Hey!”
“Yeah, right.” Dante sank to his knees and snorted. “Like you can’t take it. Like I can’t.” Griff stroked his wide erection. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“You have no idea, man.”
Somewhere behind Dante, Alek shifted position, but everything had telescoped to the two of them. Just them. Griff gripped the arms of the chair.
Dante reached out and squeezed Griff’s boner til the veins stood out in blue relief. He opened his mouth and went for it, his dark head bobbing at Griff’s lap.
I wish I could see his eyes.
For a minute the only noise was the lights humming and the muffled suckling that sounded as good as it felt. Griff’s eyes and mouth opened in warning. Dante began to turn red, struggling to breathe around the intruder.
Griff pushed him back, glaring at Alek. “Wait. Wait. Time! Time out.”
Just like that, Dante coughed and puled off and looked up, blinking. He rocked
back on his heels, drooling and eyes wild. He stood, rocking his weight.
Griff sighed in relief. He’d been close. Too close. He shrugged out of the other suspender and caught his breath.
Dante paced around the room. He looked a little skeeved and panicky.
Uhh, duh?
Dante unbuttoned his own turnout pants and tugged the zipper down. His own dick was half-hard. He strode back to Griff and sank to his knees again between the beefy thighs. He nodded at Alek to continue and puled off Griff’s heavy boots. He shucked the pants too, stripping Griff buck-ass naked on the black chair.
“Roling.” Alek was keeping quiet and giving them plenty of space, like they were an endangered species visiting his zoo.
Griff squinted a silent question at Dante. You okay?
Dante reached for Griff’s freckled hands, puling them to the back of his own curly head.
What was he doing? What did he want?
In reply, Dante pushed Griff’s fingers into his hair around the back of his head and strained forward, forcing the rosy cock into his face.
He wants me to fuck his mouth. To force him.
Griff blushed and looked down at his friend. His Neanderthal dick had no problem with the idea.
Down on the floor, Dante was waiting for him to take charge, suckling at Griff’s meat with wet abandon… but he needed Griff to make him take it.
Griff squeezed Dante’s head with spread hands, lacing his broad fingers through the scorched silk of his wavy hair.
Dante gave a little nod and took a breath. Like he was getting ready to run into a blaze.
Griff flexed his heavy arms and puled Dante’s handsome face toward his fiery pubes. He driled into slippery heat.
A gasp to the side made him glance over at Alek holding the camera on his knees trying to cover what was happening. The Russian had a boner in his chinos.
Griff shook his head and tried to ignore the other man’s presence the way Dante obviously could. He hunched deeper.
Dante gave a grunt of approval, and the vibration shivered along the fat shaft straining inside his mouth. He breathed through his nostrils and seemed fine until the wide head nudged the back of his throat. He jerked in surprise and puled off.