Forever (F-Word Book 4)

by E. Davies

  Like the most goddamn boring under-the-covers missionary het sex.

  Jake swallowed his sigh and refrained from the eye-roll. Grindr and porn instilled stupidly simplistic worldviews in guys his age. “You don’t need to be on top to do the fucking,” Jake added, shifting until he straddled that hard cock.

  God, Tristan’s dick felt good rubbing against his own. It was occasionally frustrating that his own was smaller, and it took a little effort to keep it lined up against Tristan’s. Still, he found the angle quickly and thrust against Tristan, letting the lube smooth the way.

  “I need you,” Tristan whispered. “No matter what you wanna do to me.”

  God, he was adorable. He was staring at Jake like he’d never had such good sex before, and for all Jake knew, the poor guy might not have. It wasn’t the first time a guy had reacted that way when Jake made them step out of the narrow little box they were used to.

  Again with Grindr hookups and the skewed version of sex that the whole culture seemed to teach so many guys he’d hooked up with. They just didn’t know what to do when Jake wanted to top them with his packer and harness. Or they’d insist that they were “on top” or “fucking him” when they were lying back looking clueless and Jake was in charge, just because Jake just happened to have their cock inside him.

  At least Tristan was learning fast. He kept his mouth shut (except when he was sucking cock) and his mind open. Jake found that hot as hell.

  Jake shifted and gripped the base of Tristan’s shaft firmly as he pressed Tristan against himself.

  Frontal sex wasn’t always easy. After so many years on testosterone, he needed extra lube to make it work with minimal pain. But at least guys always kept that around for anal.

  He was wet and ready now, and he relished the feeling of the tip pressing against his hole and slowly sliding inside. God, being filled up by a hot, hard cock never got old.

  “Fuck,” Tristan gasped from underneath him.

  “You all right?”

  Tristan’s cheeks reddened and he smiled, looking shy for a moment. “Yeah.”

  Jake cupped Tristan’s cheek with his spare hand, relying on his thigh muscles—which was always risky after a workout—to keep him steady. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

  Tristan shook his head, that awed expression on his face again. “It’s perfect. Different, but… but good.”

  Jake had heard that plenty, too. He half-smiled and nodded once, then pushed himself down as far as he could handle. The initial pain was laced with pleasure, and he paused where he was for a moment before drawing himself up and pushing down again.

  There it was. Within a minute, he was starting to itch for more, and deeper, and harder.

  And as he followed his instincts, Jake enveloped Tristan’s cock right to the base.

  Goddamn, he was not going to last long. Having those gorgeous lips working around him, after the way they’d teased each other in the shower, had him on edge already.

  It felt like he didn’t have a minute to waste.

  Jake set himself into a fast-paced rhythm. Their cries mingled with the slick sounds of Tristan plunging deep within Jake, and every thrust of their bodies made the tingling, aching urge to touch himself even more irresistible.

  Jake gripped Tristan’s shoulder with one hand and rubbed the swollen head of his cock in hard, fast circles with the other. His rhythm faltered here and there, but Tristan pushed up into him to keep them moving.

  His heart pounding and body drawing tight, Jake couldn’t hold back any longer. He gasped and threw his head back as he clenched around Tristan.

  “Fuck,” Tristan gasped from under him. Tristan gripped his hips tightly as he thrust a few more times and then shivered. His orgasm clearly hadn’t been far behind.

  Jake slowly slid out, giving his cock a few last tugs as he grinned at Tristan.

  “That was…” Tristan trailed off and shook his head, easing the condom off himself. Jake swung his leg over Tristan to collapse next to him and give him the space to work.

  “Yeah,” Jake agreed. “It sure was.”

  “Wanna do that again sometime?” Tristan widened his eyes into a puppy-dog cute expression, and Jake laughed.

  “I sense I’m being begged. I like it when you beg,” Jake told him with a wink. “I’d come over again.”

  “Yes,” Tristan hissed.

  Then, he seemed to realize that he’d just propositioned Jake thirty seconds after they’d had sex. He blushed and glanced down, but that made him see Jake’s hand still resting on his cock, or and Tristan’s own soft cock nestled against his thigh.

  Tristan only blushed even harder and looked back at Jake’s face again. God, for an actor, he really was showing a lot of himself.

  Jake appreciated that. Unlike so many guys here, Tristan didn’t have some front he was presenting—a cool guy image to maintain. He was real in a way Jake certainly hadn’t expected.

  “Hey,” Jake coaxed Tristan to look at him, lifting his chin with two fingers. “It was good. Don’t make a big deal of it.”

  “Oh, I—I wasn’t.” Tristan stuttered for a second, clearing his throat. “I, uh, just figured… that sounded hella uncool.”

  Jake laughed. “Whatever. I don’t blame you for wanting another piece of this.”

  Plus, it was flattering. A lot of guys wanted to do him once, like a novelty. When they realized they wouldn’t have a second cis-sized, flesh-and-blood penis to play with, they just assumed they were doomed to top forevermore, and they ghosted him.

  Dumbasses. The sex only got better the more Jake knew someone. He and his fuck-buddies had the most fun. Not that he had any right now, but he’d had them before. People moved on too quickly from this town.

  Friends with benefits suited him well, and it sounded like Tristan wanted the same thing.

  “So, uh, gym again sometime?” he suggested. He could live with this if it were just sex, but he liked friendship, too. He wanted to know what to hold out hope for now, rather than waste time pining away later.

  “Yeah, we could do that.” Tristan’s voice barely contained his excitement, and Jake smiled to himself. Then, Tristan’s face fell. “So long as we… you know, in public…”

  “We don’t start any gay rumors about you,” Jake finished.

  He wasn’t sure how to handle that.

  On the one hand, he understood the need to be closeted. On the other… well, he’d tried to be stealth for about a year after moving to L.A. It had been nice in a way to be treated like any other guy, and to not have his identity be the first thing people thought of him, but then he’d lost an even bigger chunk of his history and himself.

  Being open about it wasn’t just about having other people know. It was about not having to hide part of himself, not having to think about whether something fit his “story” or not.

  Jake couldn’t imagine having a career that depended on his silence. He couldn’t judge on an experience he’d never had.

  “Is that cool with you?” Tristan asked. His expression was more guarded than it had been all afternoon.

  Jake rubbed his arm gently. “Yeah. I get it. It’s fine.”

  “Okay.” Tristan’s exhaled sigh was clearly relieved. “Thanks.”

  “Have you ever been out?” Jake didn’t really know Tristan well enough to ask, and yet they’d just shared such intimacy that it didn’t feel too strange.

  Tristan paused and thought about it, then shook his head. “No. In high school I was pretty closeted. I’ve got a gay best friend—Zeph—and he knows everything. And now some of his friends know, too. Those are the guys you saw at Plus. But that’s not really being out, I guess.”

  Jake’s heart hurt for him. “You never walked down the street holding hands?”

  “No.” Tristan’s gaze dropped again, his expression somber. “Except… with girls, on screen.” His chuckle sounded distinctly bitter. “They like my leading-man looks. I’m popular with the girls. How weird is that?”


  “Is it your casting agent or whatever keeping you in the closet, or a joint decision?”

  “Joint,” Tristan mumbled. “I don’t really wanna invite trouble. It’s just easier all around. He wants to make a name for me as a straight guy who’s ‘willing’ to do gay stuff,” he air-quoted.

  Jake nodded. He couldn’t see a future with a guy he couldn’t even hold hands with in public, or kiss goodbye, or be seen with too often. That went against everything he’d built for himself in the last five years.

  But Tristan was a nice guy. Genuine, kind, willing to listen and learn, and hot as sin in bed. Great sex was on the table, and maybe friendship.

  Jake had learned better than to write off potential friendships in a city this big. It wasn’t easy meeting people who he liked, and he wasn’t throwing away the chance to get to know someone better.

  Even if there was a closet door in the ceiling of their relationship, he wanted to see Tristan again, and that in itself was rare enough to explore.

  “I better get going,” Jake finally said, smiling to himself. “I got a shift tonight.”

  “Where? On a set?”

  “Nah, I’m a waiter.”

  “Really?” Tristan blinked. “You were good at your job.”

  “I’m non-union. People kept telling me it would limit what jobs I could take, and I needed to be able to take anything that paid,” Jake explained. “I’ve been doing days or weeks here and there, but not enough hours to get benefits. The day rate wasn’t quite covering the bills. The bigger the production, the less they were paying me, and I wasn’t union yet… and then I needed insurance for hormones and blood tests and surgery. I got a job at a restaurant. 25 hours gives me insurance benefits. Between that and short-term PA gigs now and then, it all cobbles together to make something livable.”

  Tristan nodded slowly. It looked like he was familiar with the story, and he probably was. Actors were often in no better a position than other film crew members when they didn’t have a big name. In fact, worse in many ways… there were thousands of young kids with hopes and dreams ready to replace them at a moment’s notice.

  “Have you thought about going full-time as a PA?” Tristan asked.

  “Maybe.” Jake fidgeted with the hair on his arm, brushing his fingers one way and then the other through it. “There’s a lot of work, but then I can’t keep up the restaurant job. I’ll have to be free at a moment’s notice. So I have to make the jump fast and not look back.”

  Tristan nodded, his fingers tracing Jake’s ribs. “That’s a big decision.”

  “Yeah.” Jake stretched and gathered his clothing. “So, off to work with me tonight.”

  Tristan smiled and stood up once Jake was dressed to see him to the door. “Have a good shift. Call me sometime, huh?”

  “I will.” Jake paused at the door as he slipped his shoes on, his gaze falling to Tristan’s lips. Should he go for it?

  Tristan leaned in first, and Jake met him for a quick kiss. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” Jake managed before he headed to the elevator. He ached, but in the best possible way. Every ounce of him glowed with contentment.

  His sex drive satiated, he felt much less cranky. If casual sex with Tristan helped him keep focused and energetic until he figured out this whole fertility thing, so much the better. He’d just have to make sure to use condoms, and he tended to do so anyway, so it wasn’t a big change.

  He was more concerned with getting his work life sorted out, savings in the bank, and a place with a second bedroom. And maybe reading some parenting manuals, and finding a support group…

  Yeah, he had a long way to go before he was ready, but he felt optimistic about it.

  Dr. Lume was right. It’s time to go for what I want.

  6

  Tristan

  “Tris! I got news for you.”

  A call from his agent always made it a good day. Tristan perked up as he heard Bobby’s voice. “Whatcha got for me?”

  “Commercial work. I know you wanted more feature films, but this will help fill the gaps.”

  It sure would. Tristan didn’t want a reputation as a commercial actor, so it was always a risky line to walk taking too many of those jobs, but he trusted Bobby’s judgment in steering his career the right direction, ultimately. “Big name?”

  “Oh, yeah. A great brand. It’ll look more like endorsement than desperation.”

  Tristan grinned. “You read my mind.”

  “You’re doing fine,” Bobby told him, but he wasn’t unsympathetic. “I know this kind of work isn’t the most fun, but it’s better than taking a shitty movie role just to keep working. If you get known as the guy who does straight-to-DVD movies, that’s not a good thing. Unless you take my audition suggestions…”

  That was true, too. The last thing he needed was to be known as the guy who took ridiculous roles for movies that got panned by critics. That was a different kind of desperation altogether.

  Ah, Hollywood. It could break a man’s dreams if he thought he could aspire to create great artistic works, work full-time, and make a decent living. Luckily, Tristan had no such illusions.

  “That’s a yes to the commercial, then.”

  “Good. I’ll email the details in a few minutes,” Bobby told him. “In the meantime, there’s a movie starting production next month, and I think you’re gonna get an audition with them. I’ll chase that up for you this week, too. Keep your schedule clear. The casting director liked what you did in Summer and wants more of that.”

  Tristan stifled the urge to groan. It was easily the biggest-budget movie he’d done, but one of the worst-reviewed. Cheesy and camp, the critics had said. A far cry from his leading-man image.

  Especially for a straight guy, and Bobby knew damn well that he didn’t want his sexuality becoming his image.

  “Are you sure about that?” Tristan asked, his steps slowing.

  He was out for his morning walk—the way he cooled down from his morning workout, before his morning green smoothie. There were never public places completely out of earshot of anyone who might have a scoop.

  Tristan’s fears had faded over the last few months of hanging out with Zeph and his friends, going out to Woody’s with them, and even visiting Plus every now and then.

  He wasn’t a big enough name to be followed 24/7 or attract attention when he was driving around the city. But he did avoid unnecessary risks, like talking loudly about how gay he was while walking through a public park.

  On the other hand, Bobby would be glad to shove him into a niche if he could. And Tristan was starting to feel worn down enough to accept it.

  “Yeah. It’ll get you a lot more exposure, and the director’s great. If he likes you, he’ll cast you in other projects in the future. And directors talk—you know how it is. The only thing is…” Bobby trailed off.

  Tristan tensed up. “Yeah?”

  “You might have to play gay. It’s a good opportunity…”

  “No.” Tristan’s heart jumped into his throat. “You know how I feel about that.”

  “A lot of guys do it these days. You’ll show that you’re open-minded,” Bobby wheedled. “I promise you’re not coming out by doing it. In fact, it’s best that you don’t. Looks better.”

  Tristan’s resolve wavered. He’d trusted Bobby up until now, and there was no reason not to trust him now. Still, he’d spent so long carefully avoiding any hint of indiscretion that this seemed… well, batshit crazy. “Are you sure it’s gonna lead to other opportunities? Or am I just gonna get typecast forever?”

  “Look,” Bobby told him, his voice firm. “You can’t afford a drought. If you don’t work for a month or two, that’s not unusual at your level. Six months? A year? Your career trajectory ends there.”

  He was so painfully right that Tristan couldn’t argue. He let out his breath and sighed, then nodded to himself. “All right. I’ll audition, or whatever.”

  “Yes,” Bobby cheered. “Good man. Okay, check your email re
gularly. I’ll let you know when the meeting’s set up. They’re delighted to have you audition.”

  That, at least, made Tristan smile. “Hope that holds true if I get the part.”

  “Come on,” Bobby scoffed. “It looks good to be diverse these days.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Bobby hesitated. “If you… well, if anything ever comes out… I wanna make sure you don’t get stuck in a corner.”

  Tristan knew what he meant. If he got outed much later in his career—or at least, the career he hoped he was going to have—Bobby wanted him to already have good contacts who wouldn’t blacklist him.

  God, he hated the politics of it all. Why couldn’t he just work hard, make good movies, fuck whoever he wanted, and call it a day?

  “Thanks, Bobby. I’ll get my schedule lined up now.”

  “Yep. Talk to you soon.”

  Tristan hung up and checked his email, wandering over to a park bench and taking a seat to block out days on his calendar.

  He was lucky to be able to cobble enough work together to live in L.A., in a nice place, on his own, with healthcare… and still save up a little. That put him head-and-shoulders above a lot of actors.

  Then again, he wasn’t allergic to hard work, and he never brought a diva attitude to a set. Only a few people could get away with being dicks and still get work because of their name, the quality of their work, or both.

  Tristan wanted to make it an easy choice to hire him, so he didn’t pull that crap.

  Also, Zeph would probably punch him in the nose if he thought Tristan was being a dick or getting an ego. Nothing like a best friend to keep you honest, he thought, cracking a grin.

  He sent Zeph a text to tell him the good news, and sure enough, his best friend suggested drinks that night to celebrate. They hadn’t seen each other in a week—since he’d met Zeph at Plus, and met Jake, in fact.

  He’d made time to see Jake twice more in that week, but not Zeph again. Oops. His guilt kicked in, and he couldn’t say no, even if he’d wanted to.