His hands slip under the waistband of my shorts, then yank them down. He cups my ass, his big hands possessively splaying my cheeks, molding, rubbing, pinching. I moan into his mouth. My little session for him has left me incredibly horny, so I really hope he came here to fuck.
His right hand dips between my cheeks into my crack and finds my hole with ease. I’m still wide open and slick with lube, so he slides right in. He hums his approval into my mouth, while still ravishing my mouth.
His left hand wriggles between us to unzip his jeans. With quick moves he drops his pants and his boxers. His wet cock rubs against mine and pleasure zings through my balls.
He breaks off the kiss, and we’re both panting. He turns me around with strong hands and pushes me down until I get the hint. I put my hands on the wall, spread my legs, and arch my back to create the perfect angle. His hand grabs my throat with just enough pressure to feel it, and then he enters me with one swift thrust.
I cry out, as much in pleasure as in shock. Somehow, I expected him to be slower, more careful, though I love it that he isn’t. He pulls out, surges back in, and another low moan falls off my lips.
He fucks me hard, raw, with big, deep thrusts that make me brace myself against the wall to provide enough counterforce. His one hand stays on my throat, the other digs into my hip, probably leaving bruises. Holy hell, he feels so good. So deep, so close.
His balls slap wet against me, and he grunts every time he pushes in. I breathe in deeply, his scent enveloping me. And then he shifts his position slightly, causing him to target my prostate head-on, and I stop thinking at all.
He fucks me relentlessly, not even stopping when I explode all over the wall, until he comes with a loud groan. It’s then I fully realize he isn’t wearing a condom, because his hot release scorching up my insides is a completely new experience.
I let my head drop to my hands with my eyes closed, crashing against the wall, no longer able to hold my weight. My breath comes out in short pants as his cum drips out of my ass.
When I open my eyes and weakly turn around, half-hanging against the wall, it’s just in time to see him zip up. He bends over for one last wet kiss, both our faces slick with perspiration, and then he’s out the door.
This was the single hottest fuck I’ve ever had. And throughout our whole encounter, we never spoke a word.
28
Troy
I just fucked him without a condom.
What the actual fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. I haven’t been thinking at all when it comes to Rebel. Time and time again, I’ve let my dick make the calls, and while that’s usually not an issue for me, it seems to get me into a lot of trouble where Rebel is concerned.
“Troy, wait,” Rebel calls from his doorway, halting my progress down his hallway. “Get your ass back in here.”
Part of me wants to give him the finger and keep walking. He’s the one who lured me over here for a quick fuck, now he’s going to try to talk about our feelings or some shit again. I don’t know what makes me turn around and go back into his place, aside from the fact that I’ve obviously lost my ever-loving mind where Rebel is concerned.
I step back into his foyer and shut the door behind me. Tension radiates between us, vibrating and pulsing in the air all around.
“You want to smoke some weed?” I ask, grasping for anything to ease this unprecedented awkwardness between us.
“Sure.” Rebel points me to the living room and heads to the kitchen, I assume to get drinks or snacks.
I roll a joint and take a hit while I wait for him. And while I wait, I start to think about how fucked up things suddenly are between us. In the blink of an eye, this thing went from the best sex and most fun hanging out I’ve ever had, to an awkward fucking mess...pun intended.
“You fucked everything up,” I accuse Rebel when he returns with two sodas.
Rebel raises an eyebrow at me in question and holds out a hand for me to pass him the joint. “How do you figure that I fucked everything up?” he asks after he takes a hit and passes it back.
“Because everything was perfect until you decided to quit porn and declare your feelings for me or whatever.”
“I didn’t declare anything,” Rebel counters. “I told you I was stepping back from porn, that was it. You’re the one who freaked out and blew everything out of proportion.”
“Are you saying you don’t have feelings for me, more than just as friends with benefits?”
Rebel opens his mouth and then closes it again, his eyes filled with silent pleading. “No, I’m not saying that,” he mumbles after several strained seconds.
“This is total bullshit. You can’t change the rules in the middle of the game,” I complain, my chest almost too tight to breathe. “Now you’ve gone and ruined the best…” I trail off and shake my head at my shaking hands and strained voice.
“Nothing has to be ruined. Can’t you give this a chance between us? I know you’re scared—”
“You don’t know shit. What, just because I told you I was in foster care, now you think you know my whole life story?”
“Tell me then. I want to know your life story.” Rebel’s voice is pleading, almost desperate, and it only makes me want to scream at him. I want to fucking hit something, even if I learned the lesson too many times that violence isn’t the way to make anything better. I clench my fists, willing the shaking to stop.
“I don’t want to tell you. Don’t you get it?” I lash out.
Push him away now to save us both heartbreak later, that’s the best thing to do. It’s kinder to both of us. Even if it does feel like my heart is bleeding in my chest.
“I don’t believe you,” Rebel challenges, fixing me with a steady look. “You can throw a tantrum all you want, but when you’re done, I’m still going to be waiting here for you to realize that what we have is so much more than just a good fuck.”
“I can’t deal with this,” I stand abruptly. The walls feel like they’re closing in. I need to get out of here.
“Listen, I’m going to New York in two days with all the guys. We’re nominated for an award, and it’s a big deal. Why don’t you take a day to calm down and then come with me? We can explore New York and have fun like we did in Vegas.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Rebel looks like I kicked his puppy, and it makes me feel like complete dog shit.
“If you change your mind, the offer stands.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it. I’d better get home.”
“Yeah,” he nods and follows me to the front door to see me out. “By the way, I, and all the guys at the studio, take PrEP, so don’t worry about the condom fuck up.”
“Thank fuck for that at least.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. I almost lean forward to kiss him goodbye, but I stop myself at the last second and settle for an awkward head nod before booking it out the door.
Back at home, I crawl into bed fully clothed and pull the blankets over my head. I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself get attached to anyone ever again after Elise passed. And here I am, halfway in love with some gorgeous, adventurous, perfect man who’s bound to break my heart eventually.
Who am I kidding? My dumb ass is a lot more than halfway in love with Hendrix.
Maybe if I just hide out here under my covers, I won’t ever have to face this, and I won’t have to admit to Hendrix or myself that there’s nothing left of my heart to protect, since it’s already in his hands.
The only solution is to cut him off. I won’t go to New York. I won’t get tricked into another booty call. I’ll go completely cold turkey. And eventually, I’ll get over him, and he’ll get over me, and we’ll both be better off.
29
Rebel
I still don’t like flying, I affirm on the flight to New York City. I just don’t like being cooped up with too much crazy and on an airplane, there’s always too much crazy. Thank fuck me, Brewer, and Campy at least g
ot seats in the same row, meaning we’re plastered against each other, instead of some smelly dude.
We know each other well enough to chat for a bit, and then leave each other the fuck alone. I listen to my music, Campy is on his phone, as usual, playing some game, and Brewer is reading a book I can’t even pronounce the title of. Something about biochemistry? No fucking clue why he wants to read something like that, but if that’s what he likes, it’s fine with me.
Tank, Bear, and Pixie are a few rows behind us, also sitting together. I had to smile a little when I looked back a few minutes ago, because the sight of the cute, innocent-looking Pixie between grumpy, hairy Tank and silver fox Bear was...interesting. Not that Tank has been giving him a hard time or anything. No, he’s been nothing but kind to the shy little imp. He reserves all his grumpiness for Brewer, it seems. This, of course, makes the idea I had for a shoot with the two of them even more epic—and Bear absolutely fucking loved it. Now, all I have to do is convince those two of cooperating. To say that’s a challenge is the fucking understatement of the year.
I saw Bear make an effort at engaging Pixie in a conversation, so that took some of my worries away about him feeling left out. I was surprised Bear even wanted to bring him, but he insisted Pixie was part of the core group now. So is Heart, but apparently, he had other obligations and couldn’t make this trip. I wonder what he had that was more important than a free trip to New York.
Just like I wonder what was more important to Troy than joining me. Rationally, I know that it was too much, too soon for him. He’s a wounded soul, my banana boy, too hurt by the people who left him in the past to dare to give himself to someone else. I get it, but fuck, it hurts.
This is a proud moment for me, whether we win or not, and I wanted him with me. I wanted to share this with him as one of the hopefully many beautiful moments we’ll get to share together. I guess I’ll need even more patience to wait until he’s ready. If he’ll ever be. At what point do I decide I can’t wait anymore for him to start trusting himself, trusting me and us? I don’t know, but even the thought makes it hard to breathe. I never thought I’d be in this position, but the idea of spending life without Troy is so painful, it physically hurts. I guess that’s why they call it a broken heart.
After a meal has been served, I doze off with my music relaxing me, until Campy gently shakes me awake. “Look,” he says, pointing out the window. The plane tilts to turn, and Manhattan displays itself in all its glory. It’s a bright sunny, though supposedly chilly day in the city, and the sun reflects off the iconic buildings I can easily identify. It’s not my first time here, but every time, this city takes my breath away just a little. Campy told us it was his first time in New York, so we had to promise him we’d do at least some sightseeing.
“It’s stunning, even from the sky,” Brewer says, leaning over me and Campy to catch a glimpse.
We join Bear, Pixie, and Tank as we make our way to the luggage carousels. We catch a few curious looks, but the various subtle disguises we’re wearing so far seem to do their trick. Brewer and Campy are wearing baseball caps, and I’m clean shaven—a true rarity, and one Troy would undoubtedly get on my ass about—and wearing my hair up in a man bun. It’s not my best look, but it does make me look completely different. Pixie’s hair is unstyled, which interestingly enough completely changes his appearance. Bear is pretty much himself, but since he’s rarely on camera, people won’t recognize him unless they’re die-hard fans.
The only one who can’t help but stand out is Tank. His body is just too damn tall and broad to miss, especially with that dark look he’s always sporting and the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. The guy’s too intimidating to pull off a disguise, but on the plus side, usually too intimidating to approach, even for fans.
Luckily, our suitcases arrive quickly and a driver is waiting for us with a discreet sign. Bear learned through trial and error that putting “Ballsy Boys” on a sign wasn’t the smartest idea in a big city like New York, and neither was using our porn names. We have quite the fan base, both amongst gay men and women, and after two incidents where we were pretty much run over, Bear told us to use fake names for the trip as much as we can. Along with the aforementioned disguises.
Our luggage is quickly loaded into a small shuttle bus, and we crawl inside and find a spot. I let Campy sit near the window, so he can look out the window on our shuttle from JFK to our midtown hotel.
As soon as we start driving, I check my phone for messages. Nothing. I sigh. Had I really expected anything else?
Brewer gently bumps my shoulder with his own. “Nothing from your man?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not even sure if he’s still my man at this point, to be honest.”
Everyone grows quiet, and what should be intimidating, opening up like this, feels safe instead. These are the men who know me better than anyone else. Like brothers, if not for the fact that I’ve fucked every single one of them, with the exception of Bear.
“Is it the porn thing?” Campy asks, turning away from the stunning view outside toward me.
“No. Surprisingly, that has never been an issue for him. It’s the relationship in general thing. He’s been hurt in the past, and it’s hard for him to commit. Me asking him to join me for this was too much, I guess.”
Brewer’s hand finds my shoulder, and he squeezes. “Maybe all he needs is time.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I hear the disbelief in my own voice.
“Don’t give up on him,” Brewer urges me. “Sometimes people have been told a certain message so many times that they’ve internalized it to the point where it has become their truth. It takes a repetition of a different message to break through that old conviction. Keep telling him and showing him you love him until he starts believing it.”
The advice is so out of character for happy-go-lucky Brewer that I blink a few times. It’s spot on, though, because it’s exactly what happened with Troy. He’s been left so many times that his conviction is I will leave him, too, at some point. I need to keep showing him I won’t. No matter how long it takes, I can’t give up. He loves me—he just can’t admit it yet.
I try to shake off the mood I’m in as we slowly make our way to our hotel, which is smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, a block or two away from Times Square. The actual ceremony tomorrow is at another hotel, but was already sold out when Bear decided all of us would go, so we’re staying a few blocks away. Brewer’s nose is pretty much plastered to the window as Campy and I try to point out landmarks to him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, and his enthusiasm definitely improves my mood.
Check in is smooth, and then Bear tells us we’re off till the next morning, when we’re expected at breakfast at eight sharp. “And guys, no excessive drinking tonight. It’s a work day tomorrow, and I need you looking bright and sharp.”
We all nod in agreement, as he told us this beforehand. A trip like this sounds like way more fun than it actually is. As I said before, being a porn star is damn hard work for the most part.
“Who’s rooming with who?” Campy asks.
Huh. I never even thought of this. There’s six of us and three rooms.
“I’m not rooming with him,” Tank and Brewer say almost simultaneously, pointing at each other.
Bear lets out an exasperated sigh. “The two of you need to grow the fuck up. This is getting really old.”
“I’ll room with Tank,” I offer to keep the peace. I don’t mind, and honestly, I kinda prefer him over Campy and Brewer. Brewer is a total flirt, and we’ve fooled around on more than one occasion. Campy and I have done dozens of shoots together, and we’re all too familiar with each other. No matter what the current situation with Troy is, I’m not fucking it up by getting too close with any of the boys. Tank is safe, at least for me.
“I’ll take Brewer,” Campy quickly says.
That leaves Pixie and Bear, and oh, fuck, I should have realized it would be awkward as fuck for the little imp to room with the
boss. Why didn’t I offer to room with Bear instead? That would have been fine with me.
Bear shuffles his feet, obviously acutely uncomfortable with the whole situation. No wonder; he just got maneuvered into sharing a room with someone he’d probably rather keep a distance from, considering how he’s a new employee and all that.
“I can…” I start, but Pixie quickly cuts me off.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Okay, then. I don’t know how to interpret the blush that’s staining his cheeks, but I’m gonna go with major awkward. Bear gives Pixie a look as if the kid has sprouted angel wings all of a sudden, then clears his throat.
“That’s settled then. I’ll see you all tomorrow at eight.”
30
Troy
I glance at the day-old text for the millionth time.
Rebel: I know I freaked you out, and for that I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry that I broke our agreement and developed feelings for you. If you change your mind about New York, the offer stands.
My stomach pitches and rolls every time I read the words. He’s sorry he freaked me out? But he’s not sorry that he has feelings for me. I don’t even know how to process that. What kind of feelings does he have? And surely the offer to try to work things out must have an expiration date. If I blow him off for six months and then try to talk things out, he’ll have found someone who’s less of a head case than I am.
A knock at my door startles me until I remember that Mason is supposed to be coming over so we can put the finishing touches on our mobile game. I shove my phone roughly into my pocket and open my door.
“Hey, man.”
“Hey,” Mason responds, stepping into my apartment with just a bit more confidence than the last few times he was over. It might take some time, but eventually, he’s going to be comfortable around me. I don’t know why that matters to me, but it does. He strikes me as the type of person who hasn’t had many friends in life, and I can more than relate with that.
Rebel_Ballsy Boys 1 Page 17