“I’m sorry, that really sucks.”
I shift uncomfortably, trying to remember how normal humans usually behave in these situations. I should offer some sort of comfort, right? I awkwardly reach out and pat his shoulder.
“Thanks. Now that I’m away from the situation, I’m realizing how unhealthy it was, I guess. I shouldn’t have let him talk to me the way he did.”
I nod and let out a relieved breath. I’m glad he at least knows that wasn’t normal. “He seemed like a dick.”
Mason lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess he was,” he agrees. “He wasn’t totally wrong though...about the boring in bed stuff and the socially awkward stuff.”
“Oh.” I put my laptop aside as I try to figure out how I’m supposed to respond. I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to admit. Am I supposed to offer him advice? I can certainly give him a few pointers. “I know a bunch of porn stars. I could probably hook you up so you could brush up your skills.”
Know is a clear overstatement, but I’m sure I could make it happen for Mason if he wants.
Not taking his eyes off his computer screen, Mason wrinkles his nose. “A porn star? Isn’t that a bit skeevy?”
I snort a laugh.
“No offense, but maybe that’s the problem. You’re all repressed and shit. There’s nothing wrong with porn or porn stars. Sex is natural and fun. There’s nothing to feel weird about. Forget the porn stars, find someone to just fool around with for fun.”
Mason shrugs silently. Well, at least I tried.
“Well, if you want to come out to the club with me this weekend, you’re welcome. I always say the only way to get over one man is to get under another.” Not that I would know what it takes to get over someone. That would mean being emotionally invested, which, as we’ve already established, is not in my wheelhouse.
Mason grimaces. “Probably not this weekend, but maybe in a few months or something. And I don’t think I’ll have sex with a porn star.”
“Never say never,” I chuckle.
Mason focuses on his laptop, and the conversation seems to be over. I’m glad we cleared the air so we can focus on this project, and maybe eventually, Mason will let me help him with the whole awkward and bad in bed thing.
10
Rebel
I wholeheartedly believe in the power of intuition. It would be hard not to, considering the upbringing I had. My mom especially embraces anything and everything alternative, from talking to trees to healing stones to dolphin therapy. It’s all good with me, honestly, even though as a kid I would have appreciated a Tylenol every now and then instead of a healing massage or acupuncture.
One thing my mom stressed is that our subconscious knows things our mind can’t rationalize yet. She taught me and my sister to take our intuition seriously, and it’s one of the bits of advice I’ve always tried to follow.
And right now, my subconscious is screaming “Hell, no!” about the guy in front of me. Bear has asked me to sit in on an interview with a possible new Ballsy Boy, a six foot two guy who uses “King” as a moniker.
I’m pretty sure it’s a not-too-subtle reference to his dick size, because the guy is packing a serious tool down there. Everyone who applies and is deemed a serious candidate by Bear is asked to send in a couple of nudes and a jerk-off video. Hey, we’re a porn studio, so checking out the goods is kinda important.
I watched his video, which was a little unimaginative but impressive because of his size. That being said, size isn’t everything in porn—as pure bottoms will be happy to point out. Sure, a ten-inch cock looks great on screen, but good luck finding bottoms willing to take that up their ass for two, three hours. They’ll do it once and then kindly refuse the honor of a repeat performance.
Bear shoots King a friendly smile. “You indicated on your application that you’re a strict top. Is that a hard limit for you, because we always prefer men who are vers?”
“Yeah, definitely. I don’t take cock. I only dish it out.” King leans back in his chair, his tight jeans outlining his definitely hard dick. “And let’s be honest, with a dick like mine, bottoming would be a waste of my natural talents, right?”
“I’m vers,” I say, perhaps a little snappier than necessary.
King sends me a condescending smile. “Sure, but from what I can tell, there’s still a sizeable difference between me and you...”
I bite back the not-so-mature words on my tongue and instead go with, “Well, as any gay man will tell you, size alone is not enough. You gotta know how to use it.”
King grins. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
Somehow, I doubt that, but call me jaded. This is not a guy who knows how to bring pleasure. This is a guy who knows how to pleasure himself above all.
“That’s nice to know,” Bear says non-committedly. “If we were to give you a shot, which one of our Boys would you pick to do a first scene with?”
King rubs his chin with his right hand. “Well, your boy Brewer has a rep for being a master cocksucker, so I’d like to see him try and swallow me. But I wouldn’t mind tapping that sweet Pixie’s ass. That kid needs to be taken hard and deep by my monster cock until that tight little ass of his is overflowing with my cum.”
If his goal was dirty talk, he’s failing, ‘cause it’s more like creepy talk to me. I have to keep myself from shivering with a giant case of the heebie-jeebies. And using Pixie was a dumb move on his part; for some reason, Bear is protective of our little imp.
The smile Bear had plastered on his face until now falters. “You do realize that even as a top, there’s some reciprocity required?” he asks, his tone distinctively cold. “We like to see our tops engage in blowjobs and rimming, for instance.”
King’s cocky attitude dims. “I’m not gay. I don’t mind sticking it in someone’s ass, especially not if they’re as hot as that little twink, but I’m not doing any ass licking or shit like that.”
Bear’s face darkens even more. “Being gay or bi is kind of a requirement for this line of work,” he says curtly.
King leans forward, his eyes suddenly cold. “Yeah? You may want to ask your boy Campy about that, ‘cause he sure as shit ain’t gay.”
Campy? What the hell is this asshole talking about? I’ve done countless scenes with him, and he’s been working for us for at least two years. How can he not be into men? He may not be gay, but if not, he’s sure as shit bi. There’s no way he’s straight.
“Look, King, or whatever your real name is, I’m not discussing private issues with my boys with you. If you are unwilling to engage in mutual satisfactory sexual acts with other boys, you’re not a good fit for our studio. It’s as simple as that. If you’re straight, I’d advise you to try your luck with one of the many, many straight porn studios in town. I’m sure one of them will hire you, considering your size and body type.”
King opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, then shuts it again. I’m not surprised. Bear is generally pretty laid back, but every now and then, he gets this tone, this authoritative, deep voice that oozes dominance, and when he does, you just have to listen. It, like, reaches deep inside you or something.
The interview is done, and King leaves, shooting daggers with his eyes. “What the hell was he talking about with Campy?” Bear asks me as soon as the douchebag has left the building.
“I honestly don’t know. Does it matter?”
Bear sighs. “Maybe.”
“You think this guy has it out for him?”
“He could. The more he talked, the more my alarm bells were going off.”
“Oh, yeah, he was a total sleazebag,” I agree.
“Look, do you think you could ask Campy? Not to confront him, but just to check, out of concern? I can’t really ask as his employer.”
“Bear, if it turns out he’s straight, are you gonna fire him?”
Bear shoots me a disapproving frown. “Of course not. What the hell do I care, as long as he performs well. I just want to know so we can protect him if
need be.”
That actually makes sense. Information is power and all that shit. “I’ll ask him, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”
We discuss some upcoming shoots, and by the time I leave the studio, it’s close to dinner time. This King guy has left me highly irritated with his distaste for gay sex. Fucking asshole. Why the hell is he applying with us when he thinks gay sex is beneath him? Probably because he can’t get a job with a straight studio, I reason. Maybe because he misbehaved or something? Contrary to what many people think, most well-paying studios are quite strict in who they hire. There’s enough people willing to do porn to be selective, especially straight, vanilla porn. If you act like an asshole, they’ll toss you out. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what happened with this dude.
And now I’m getting frustrated with myself for spending way too much time and energy on this guy. I need a little pick me up, preferably in the form of a serious good fuck. I’m not scheduled for another shoot till next week, so I have to find someone willing to have a little fun with.
I have my phone in my hand before I realize it. Troy picks up on the second ring.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself.”
There’s an awkward silence before I realize that I called him, meaning I’ll have to initiate the conversation.
“You free tonight?” I ask.
“Why?”
“‘Cause I had a crappy day, and I would love to end it on a high note. With you.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Doing what exactly?”
I frown a little. Did I misinterpret his earlier signals? I thought he was up for fooling around every now and then. Admittedly, he was a bit weird after sleeping over, but that was a week ago. Surely he’s over that by now?
Still, I take the plunge. “Well, I figured I’d stop by with some food, Chinese maybe, and we could watch a movie or something. And after that, I’d very much like to fuck you, if that would be okay with you?”
Troy chuckles. “Well, you’re certainly asking nicely. Plus, paying for dinner.”
I smile, the tension in my stomach easing. “I figured that was the least I could do in return.”
“So basically, you’re paying for sex with Chinese food.”
I laugh. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t know if that makes me a cheap lay or plain stupid. My guess is you get a whole lot more to get fucked than a Sesame chicken with white rice. But I’ll meet you at your place in, say, an hour?”
“Hey, I’ll add some fortune cookies to my offer, how’s that?” I joke. He’s coming over, which means great sex, which means my mood just rapidly improved. Plus, I’m so happy to be able to joke around about my job. Troy really doesn’t have an issue with it, it seems.
Troy laughs. “Oh, why didn’t you start with that? Dude, for fortune cookies, I’ll even throw in a blowjob!”
11
Troy
My fingers fly over my computer keys as I work to finish my coding project at the last minute. I would’ve gotten it done weeks ago, but between frequent hook-ups with Rebel and working on my own game with Mason, some of my classwork has fallen a tad behind schedule.
The weird thing has been that it’s not just the sex with Rebel that seems to be taking up a large chunk of time. It’s random Tuesday nights when he wants me to come over and watch a movie with him. At first, I thought that was just code for fucking around. But it didn’t take long to realize that when Rebel wants to fuck, he says that’s what he’s calling for. And when he says he wants to watch a movie, you’d better believe he’s keeping his hands to himself, and we’re watching a movie.
It’s weird as hell, and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s also kind of nice. Not that I’ll admit that out loud, even under threat of torture. But just knowing that it’s true is enough to make me squirm.
I type out the last few lines of code and then shake out the cramps in my hands. Holy hell, I need to remember not to leave shit like this till the last minute again.
I check the time and realize I need to get to class. I close my laptop and shove it into my messenger bag along with my notebooks that I take to class even though I never handwrite notes. Then I pull on some fresh clothes and head out the door.
I slip into my usual seat in the back of the classroom only a few minutes after the bell rings, so more or less the same time I usually make it. Mason shoots me a look I’ve come to expect each time I’m late for class. The strange thing is, I kind of like having someone I can count on for something. Even if the thing I’m counting on is for him to be annoyed at me.
I’m trying to listen to my monotone professor when an iMessage pops up from Rebel.
Rebel: I’m horny
Troy: Lol, stop the presses. I’m in class, dude.
Rebel: Oh shit lol, sorry.
Rebel: So I guess it would be rude of me to send you a pic of my epic erection right now?
Troy: It seems rude to your erection to not let the little guy out to play
Rebel: Little????
Troy: Lol, I misspoke, not little. My ass can attest to that. Now, let’s see it
I wait with baited breath, unsure if he’s actually going to send me a dick pic while I’m in class. It’s a ballsy move, and Rebel’s just the kind of guy who would do it.
Seconds later, an image pops up, and I have to stifle a laugh at the sheer audacity of it. Rebel wasn’t wrong; this erection appears particularly epic, and I’m kind of bummed I’m in class and can’t help him take full advantage of it.
“Dude, are you looking at porn in class?” Mason whispers.
“Technically? I’m not exactly sure,” I answer with a chuckle.
Troy: Is it technically porn when you send me a dick pic?
Rebel: Dictionary definition yes because porn is any image or explicit description used for a sensual purpose (says Google). But in a colloquial sense, I’d say no because we don’t usually consider dick pics porn, we consider them “sexting”.
Troy: Is it weird that I’m even more turned on by how smart you sound right now than by your dick pic?
Rebel: Not to make this weird, and I know you’re allergic to emotions and shit, but that really means a lot to me to hear you say.
Troy: Yup, you made it weird. Lol.
Rebel: Asshole
Troy: You like my asshole, dick.
Rebel: You like my dick
Troy: We seem to be at an impasse here. Maybe your dick and my asshole can work this out later.
Rebel: Count on it ;)
I close the chat window with one last longing look at the dick pic and once again try to focus on class.
* * *
I lift my fist to the door and deliver a few quick raps. I glance down at the paper clutched in my other fist and cringe inwardly. I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve read the note the guy gave me ahead of time.
The door swings open, and I brace myself for whatever I’m about to face. “Karen?” I check.
“Yeah, why?”
“Ryan has a message for you. I’m really sorry, these are his words, not mine,” I explain before lifting the paper up and reading from it. “Ten reasons I’m dumping your ass: One, you never go down on me…” I flinch as the words leave my lips. Oh damn, yeah, I really should’ve read this beforehand.
Karen gasps, and her face turns bright red.
“I don’t think you need to hear the rest of this.” I start to shove the paper into my pocket, but Karen stops me.
“No, tell me what it says,” she demands.
With extreme reluctance, I pull the paper back out and continue reading. “Two, you’ve got a fat ass...not in a good way.”
Her fists ball, and her eyes flash with rage.
“Three, I already fucked all your friends, so there’s not much reason to hang around anymore.”
I don’t see her fist coming, but as it crunches against my nose. I can’t even say I bl
ame her. There’s no doubt in my mind I would’ve punched me too, if the situations were reversed.
“Fuck,” I yell, clutching my nose as blood pours through my fingers. The hateful list falls somewhere, and the door slams loudly in my face. I whip my shirt over my head and press it against my nose as I pull my phone out of my pocket.
That’s when I realize there’s no one I can call to take me to the hospital. My heart sinks at that thought. I probably have a broken nose, and I’m going to have to take an Uber to the hospital because I don’t have any friends. How pathetic am I?
I awkwardly try to wipe off some of the blood on my hand onto the t-shirt crumpled against my face. Then I pull out my phone and order a car. The driver gives me a dirty look when he notices I’m shirtless and bloody, but he doesn’t say anything for which I am grateful.
It takes ages for us to get to the hospital, because this is LA, and traffic is basically the tenth circle of hell. The bleeding slows by the time I get out of the car, but I can already feel my face swelling. There’s no doubt she broke my nose. I should have just handed her that mean-as-hell list and walked away.
Luckily, the emergency room is quiet tonight, so I only end up waiting with my t-shirt pressed to my face for about an hour before a nurse takes me to the back.
“I’m pretty sure my nose is broken. Do you need to take X-rays or something?”
“Actually, we don’t usually X-ray for a broken nose. If there’s been a recent trauma and the nose is swollen and bleeding, there’s a good bet it’s broken. So, what we’ll do is put you under a mild anesthesia, and one of our surgeons will be in to set and splint it. Now, I understand you came in alone. Is there someone who will be able to pick you up? You won’t be able to drive after the mild anesthetic.”
“Um…” I cast around my mind fruitlessly, trying to come up with a solution. I could order another Uber, but I doubt any of them would appreciate my drugged-up ass.
Mason would be a good option, but I don’t have his number. The only person I can think of who I sort of consider a friend and whose number I also have is Rebel. But he’s not exactly the type of friend I need to be calling when I need a favor.
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