“Can I stay here and sleep it off?” I ask in desperation.
The nurse gives me a skeptical look. “We don’t exactly have extra beds to offer up for outpatient procedures.”
“Fuck,” I sigh. Looks like I’m going to have to bite the bullet and call Rebel.
“Why don’t you sit tight, make some calls if you need to, and the doctor will be in shortly to get you taken care of.”
As soon as I’m alone, I call Rebel before I can chicken out.
“Hey, sexy,” Rebel greets in a playful tone. “Already dying for my cock in your ass again?”
In spite of the shame and pain currently burying me, my dick manages to take interest, hardening against my leg at the memory of Rebel’s erection stretching me wide and pounding me without mercy.
“Uh...” I clear my throat and try to conjure actual words and sentences. “This is really fucking embarrassing, but I need a favor, and I had literally no one else to call.”
“Is everything okay?” His tone has done a rapid one-eighty and is now full of concern.
“Kind of. I’m at the hospital, and I need a ride home in like an hour or two.”
“Oh my god, what happened? Is it serious? Which hospital?” Rebel asks, and I hear shuffling and keys jangling in the background. I tell him which hospital and that it’s only a minor injury. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” And then the phone goes dead.
I shove my phone in my pocket and lay back in the stiff hospital bed. As embarrassing as it is that I had to call Rebel, it’s kind of sweet that he was so willing to drop everything to come pick me up.
A few minutes later the nurse is back, with the doctor this time, and they’re shooting me up with the good stuff. I have no idea how long it takes them to fix my nose, but I do know I’m not feeling any pain as they do. When it’s over, there’s a big ass splint on my nose, and the drugs are just starting to wear off a little.
“Heeeeey,” I greet Rebel in a goofy, excited voice when I see him waiting for me. “You’re really hot.”
Rebel’s already blindingly handsome face lights with a smile, and I almost have to shield my eyes from his perfection.
“They gave you some good drugs, huh?”
“Yeah, I can’t feel my face,” I agree.
“Okay, let me figure out what we need to do to get you squared away, and then I’ll take you home.”
“Kay,” I mumble, slouching back on the bed where the nurse put me to wait until I could be discharged.
As the drugs continue to fade, and the quiet of the room starts to feel like an oppressive force, it hits me again how pathetic it was that I had to call a fuck buddy to pick me up from the hospital. Who knows what kind of plans Rebel had to cancel to come pick my sorry ass up. He probably thinks I’m a total loser with no friends, which is entirely accurate.
Rebel returns a few minutes later with a handful of paperwork. “You’re all set. Let me help you.”
He comes around to the side of the bed and helps me up. The nurse enters the room with a wheelchair seconds later and insists I ride it to the exit.
“Oh wait, doesn’t he have a shirt?” Rebel asks the nurse.
“Got all bloody,” I answer.
“Hold on, it’s a little chilly out.” Rebel takes his jacket and puts it over my shoulders. A strange warmth spreads out from my chest and to the tips of my fingers and toes. Those drugs must’ve been really good.
“It’s not chilly; we live in LA,” I argue half-heartedly.
Outside, Rebel opens the car door for me for some reason. It’s nice, but weird as hell.
“So who punched you?” he asks as soon as he’s in the driver seat.
“Some chick I was paid to dump. I deserved it.”
Rebel makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat that sends a little thrill through me.
Aside from the directions I give him to my place, Rebel and I don’t talk on the way there. I expect him to pull up in front of my building and let me out, but he insists on finding a parking spot.
“I’m fine, you don’t have to walk me in.”
“You’re drugged up and injured. I’m going to come in and make sure you’re settled. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”
“I don’t have tea.”
“Really? Why don’t you have tea? Isn’t that a staple?”
“No, because I’m not British.”
Rebel chuckles. “My mom always makes me tea when I’m not feeling well.”
My heart gives a little squeeze at the fondness in his tone when he mentions his mother. I wonder what it’s like to have someone in the world care about you that deeply. Someone who worries about your comfort and happiness. It seems like it would be nice…
But that’s for other people, not for me. Maybe I was a warlord or an asshole in a past life. Maybe there’s something ingrained in my DNA that makes me undesirable. Whatever the reason, I am unlovable. That’s life, and there’s no point dwelling on it.
“You really don’t have to come up. I have a shitty little apartment. It’s nothing like your place,” I tell him. “Plus, I’m obviously not up for fooling around.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
I scoff and shake my head but don’t argue further. If we keep hanging out without fucking around, what does that make us? Friends? Something else?
In my apartment, I cringe inwardly, imagining what Rebel must be thinking as he steps into the one room that holds my whole life. Usually when I have a guy in here, we’re too busy getting naked for me to worry what they think of my living space. And, beyond that, I can’t imagine I’d care what any of those randoms think anyway.
“If you don’t have tea, how about I make you some soup or something?”
“Why are you doing this?” I eye him skeptically.
“What? Do you want something more substantial? I can make a sandwich.”
“No, I mean why are you being so nice?”
Rebel’s eyebrows furrow, and the corners of his lips tug down in a frown. There’s a sharp sadness in his striking blue eyes that makes me want to shove him away or crawl into bed and hide for a week, anything to get away from the pity.
“We’re friends, right?” Rebel asks.
“You’ve had your dick in both my mouth and my ass.”
“So...best friends?”
I want to laugh, but the pain meds are starting to wear off, and my nose is starting to throb. “I’m not usually friends with guys I fuck around with,” I explain for what I feel like is the hundredth time since meeting Rebel.
“Then who are you usually friends with?”
My mouth opens and closes like a dumbass fish. I’m not sure if he was trying to throw shade, but damn if he didn’t get me. “I don’t have friends,” I finally admit with a little bite in my tone. I don’t want friends, and I don’t need friends.
“We’re friends; deal with it. Now, soup?” He skirts around me into my kitchen, leaving me at a loss for words. “Why don’t you lay down on the couch and find something for us to watch? I’ll bring you some food, and we’ll get a dose of the painkillers the ER prescribed into you, and you can sleep through the worst of the pain.”
I almost ask again why he’s doing this, but decide that whatever his motivation, it feels nice to be taken care of for a change. I settle onto the couch and put on the second season of Stranger Things.
It’s not long before Rebel brings me a bowl of soup, a second dose of the painkillers, and a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Rebel waves me off and then sits down beside me on the couch. “Cool, I haven’t watched the second season yet.”
“I might fall asleep after I eat,” I warn.
“That’s fine, I can let myself out or crash on your couch. Don’t worry about me.”
We fall into comfortable silence as I finish the soup Rebel made me. And before long, my eyelids grow heavy. I feel a blanket being laid over me and then a quick kiss brushed agains
t my forehead before I’m pulled under by sleep.
12
Rebel
I wake up in the pitch black, and it takes me a second to figure out where I am and what the strange sounds are that woke me up. Right. I’m at Troy’s, and he’s the one making weird noises. I can hear his groans drifting through the room, and they’re not the happy ones indicating he’s about to come. He’s in pain.
He fell asleep on the couch yesterday, and after about an hour, I carried him to his bed. I didn’t want him to wake up with even more pain in his body after spending a night on that uncomfortable looking couch.
I can now affirm that couch is indeed hella uncomfortable, because after a few hours of restless sleep on this thing, my back is killing me. Sweet fuck, he really could use a new couch. I’ll have to introduce him to Ikea, maybe.
I feel around for a light switch, because I know there’s a small lamp on the side table. Why the hell is it so fucking dark in here? I can’t see a damn thing. Finally, my fingers touch the switch, and I turn the lamp on.
I’d better get him some more painkillers. I crawl off the couch, my stiff muscles loudly announcing their discomfort. The painkillers are in the bathroom, and I make my way to Troy’s bed with a glass of water and the package of meds.
Troy has his back toward me in the queen size bed, but I can see he’s in pain. He’s whimpering a little in a restless sleep, his body curled up into a ball. Poor guy. That was one angry woman to clock him in the face that hard.
I turn on the lamp next to him before I gently put my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Troy… Babe, wake up.”
His body freezes before he relaxes again. I guess he needed a sec to remember who I am or something. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.
“You’re in pain. I’ve got the next dose of your painkillers for you.”
He turns around with a big groan. “God, my head is killing me. Why the fuck did I take that job?”
I help him sit up, shooting him a look of sympathy. “Here,” I say when he’s somewhat sitting up straight—more like slumping against the headboard—and hand him the water and a pill.
“Are you drugging me so you can have your way with me?” he jokes before taking the pill and washing it down with the water.
I grin. “Sure thing, babe. ‘Cause you haven’t put out so far, and I really enjoy fucking a guy with a broken nose.”
He sags against the pillows with a faint smile, then gingerly touches his nose and cringes. “Do you think it will leave a mark? My nose, I mean. Will it stay crooked?”
I carefully sit down on the bed beside him and brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “I don’t know, but you’ll still be gorgeous.”
He sends me a watery smile. “You’re good with words. Much better than me. I never know what to say. I suck at this whole friendship thing.”
Even though he’s in pain, I don’t wanna lie to him. “Yeah, you kinda do. Not because of the words, because I don’t need them, but because you’re so defensive all the time. It’s okay to hang out, fuck when we feel like it, and be friends, you know? Those things are not mutually exclusive, and it’s not like I’m looking for anything serious either.”
He blinks slowly. “I guess,” he says.
“Wow. Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Need I remind you that we’re best friends, considering I’ve had my dick in your mouth and your ass, as you so eloquently put it before? I expected a little more enthusiasm, dude.”
I figure the best thing to do is keep it light. I don’t know why he’s so freaked out about the whole friends and hanging out thing, but right now, I just wanna make sure he’s okay. He’s still looking mighty pale. Despite that, his lips curve into a smile.
“Best friends, huh?”
I nod. “Besties, man. I’m at your service.”
His smile widens. “Did you know that endorphins really help against pain?”
I know exactly where he’s going with this, but I wanna see him play this out. “Endorphins? Really? Aren’t those released when you do something pleasurable, like...hugging? Are you saying you’d like a hug from me?”
“For someone who calls himself my best friend, you’re pretty shitty at reading my needs, bro. I was not talking about hugging.”
“Oh. You weren’t trying to emotionally blackmail me into giving you a blowjob at four in the morning, were you? Because that’s not something best friends do to each other, right?”
He pouts, his bottom lip going all droopy and sad. He looks so cute when he’s put out that I take pity on him. The guy is in pain, after all. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. Sheesh. The things I do to stay in your good graces.”
I shimmy myself onto the bed, dragging the covers down. He’s only wearing boxers, so that makes it easy. Then his hand touches my hair, grabbing it, and I look up.
“Rebel, you don’t have to…”
“I know.”
“I mean it. I don’t want you to feel—”
It’s sweet that he’s worried about me feeling pressured, but ain’t nobody got time for this. I simply drag down his boxers and drop down on his cock, which is still mostly soft. That’s probably because he didn’t have enough time to consider what was about to happen.
It’s not often that I get to start a blowjob on a soft cock. It may be a strange thing to think about when you’re sucking someone off, but usually, guys are rock hard and dripping when I work on them. It’s a wonderful sensation to feel Troy grow hard in my mouth.
I start with gently suckling on his crown, and my guess is he loves it, because both his hands thread into my hair to keep my head in place. As if I was planning on going anywhere. Still, I like how it feels, this little gesture of possessiveness.
There’s a difference between sucking someone off on camera and doing it in private. On camera, the goal is usually to draw it out, because we want the scene to last a little. Sure, most porn stars can hold out for a while—yes, there are tricks for this that we teach each other—but we also don’t go all out. We make it look sexy, first and foremost, but it’s not necessarily what would make someone come the fastest.
In private, it’s different. I’ve given blowjobs that were aimed at making someone come really fast because I wanted it over with and others where it was fun to play around a little.
Right now, it’s four in the morning, I’m still tired, my back hurts from that fucking couch, and Troy looks like he could keel over any second. You wanna bet how fast I can make him come?
He’s all hard now, moaning softly. I deep throat him with ease, putting my tongue to good use for a little extra pressure, and I swallow him down. His hips come off the mattress, and that discreet moan transitions into a low growl.
I keep up the pressure, only occasionally coming up for air. Troy is almost pulling on my hair now, moaning beautifully. And then he jerks and unloads in my throat, his body going slack right after. I lick him clean, and by the time I tuck him back into his boxers, he’s half asleep already.
“Mmmm...wasreallygood,” he murmurs.
“I do this for a living, remember?” I say half-joking, but he doesn’t even respond. I draw the sheets back over him and sit up. Do I really have to sleep on that lumpy couch? I debate it for three seconds before deciding Troy is passed out and won’t notice anyway, and then I curl up next to him. I’m asleep in under a minute, my mouth still full of his creamy taste.
13
Rebel
I wake up restless, even though it’s my day off. I helped set up a complicated shoot yesterday, so I spent all day at the studio. Bear told me he doesn’t want to see me the rest of the week. That means I find myself strangely bored on a Friday morning.
I could go to the gym. I usually go at least three times a week, and my latest workout was two days ago, but I really don’t feel like it. I hauled around some heavy stuff yesterday, and my muscles are already somewhat sore.
A quick glance around my apartment confirms that it doesn’t really need cleaning
, and I’m caught up on laundry as well. Seriously, when did I become this boring, walking and talking commercial for urban middle class life? Well, aside from the fact that I make my money in porn, of course.
No, I don’t want to do something useful today. I want to do something fun. I need to do something fun, if only to prove to myself I haven’t fully transformed into this nine-to-five, responsible adult. Yikes.
Something fun. But what? And with whom? As soon as I think it, I know who I want to hang out with. I gotta come up with a good reason, though, because if I call him to ask him to hang out for a whole day, he won’t do it. He’ll balk, get suspicious. I don’t know why he keeps doing that, but I know he does.
I need to figure out an excuse. What if I…? Yeah, that should work. I make a few quick calls and have the whole thing set up in under fifteen minutes. My boys really are the best, even when they have no idea why I’m doing this.
It’s time for the final call. I laugh when I see the picture I chose for his name: a banana. He’ll never get rid of that association.
“Hey,” he answers, sounding rather sleepy.
“Good morning, sunshine. Were you awake yet or did I wake you up?”
He yawns loudly. “I was...somewhat awake.”
“Well, time to rise and shine, banana boy. Me and some of the boys are hanging out today, and I figured you’d want to come.”
He’s quiet for a second, and then lets out a sexy laugh. “Will there be coming involved?”
“Holy fuck, you and your dirty mind. Not everything is about sex, you know?”
“You’re asking me to hang out with a bunch of porn stars, but you want to keep it PG? So not gonna happen.”
I sigh. He’s actually right about that. Me and the boys have been known to get a little...handsy every now and then. “Okay, there will be coming, at least for you, okay?”
“You’re bribing me with sex?”
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