Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  “I can barely remember my life without you in it.”

  “Is this the part in the story where we get sappy?”

  Scott laughed and pulled Evan into their normal post-sex snuggling position. “Sure.”

  “And they all lived happily ever after?”

  “Yeah. Forever and ever.”

  “The end.”

  Author’s Note

  THE FIVE Things, or 5+1 writing structure, owes its existence to fan fiction, much like my writing career.

  Although writers can and do interpret the 5+1 idea very differently, most commonly stories will follow a concept along the lines of “five times someone did something and one time they did the opposite,” which is what I’ve used for this story.

  Although the true origins of this concept are slightly muddy, most agree that it started back in the 1980s with a Star Wars story and exploded in the 1990s and 2000s with stories written in the Smallville, Blakes 7, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer fandoms.

  My own fan fiction journey started when I was fifteen in the world of Harry Potter, danced through Twilight, dabbled in Queer as Folk, quietly whispered through One Direction, and recently landed in the Marvel superhero universe. I’ve seen variations of the 5+1 theme in pretty much every fandom I’ve visited.

  So this story is my homage to fan fiction—the source of my writing career, where my roots as a writer are deeply embedded. It’s my thank-you to everyone who has helped shape me as a writer and a quiet nod to those incredible, bone-shaking, heart-wrenching stories that will never be published because they borrow someone else’s characters.

  Fan fiction writers, I salute you.

  ANNA MARTIN is from a picturesque seaside village in the southwest of England and now lives in the Bristol, a city that embraces her love for the arts. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.

  Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theater (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), going to visit friends in other countries, and reading anything that’s put under her nose.

  Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, prereading, and creative ass-kicking provided by her best friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept responsibility for anything Anna has written.

  Website: annamartin-fiction.com

  Twitter: @missannamartin

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/annamartinfiction

  Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/5251288.Anna_Martin

  The New Boy

  Chapter One

  LANCE WAS so fucking tired of uppity assholes and psychopaths who thought “male fetish model” meant “I pay for sex.”

  He’d interviewed a dozen guys and they’d all been utter assholes and utterly not photogenic. He had a client willing to pay enough to cover his rent for three years for a deck of BDSM cards. A whole deck worth of images. All he needed were some hot, gorgeous guys willing to get kinky in front of the camera.

  He wasn’t holding out a lot of hope for this upcoming interview either. Tide. Who the fuck was called Tide? A porn star, that was who.

  Lance was tempted to just cancel the fucking interview. But damn, three years’ rent. Three years to build his business. Who could fucking walk away from that?

  Still, he sat a few more minutes and was actually about to get up and leave when three guys walked into the coffee shop.

  Oh God. They were stunning. A big black man, a small platinum-blond super-tanned twink, and the most beautiful man he’d ever fucking seen.

  Oh please be here for me, he thought. Pretty please.

  The beautiful one with the blue eyes looked over at him and smiled, headed his way. “Lance Packet?”

  Oh, fucking A. Yes.

  “I am.” Lance stood up, held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Tide. The same. This is Tyrone and Bran.”

  Tide’s hand was big, swallowing his up in the most amazing grip.

  “Tide.” Whoa. These guys were stunning and Lance was… so totally not.

  Tide pulled up the chair next to him, while Tyrone pulled out the other two, making sure Bran was seated before sitting himself.

  “So you’re doing an erotic calendar?” Tide asked, taking the initiative.

  “No. No, I’m doing a deck of cards. A fetish deck.” With leather and chains and anal and…. God, he was never going to survive this. Not with these stunning men as potential models.

  “Really? Oh, that sounds very interesting.” Tide had an amazing voice, low and warm.

  “I have a few questions. Uh. You’re comfortable with that idea? Fetish, I mean. This client has very specific ideas.” Lance pushed over the illustrations his client had sent.

  Tide looked at them and hummed, then passed them to Tyrone and Bran.

  Lance knew he was blushing, but he couldn’t help it. These guys were the first ones who seemed like they might be anywhere close to workable, and they were sexy as hell.

  “These are ambitious. You’ll need the right people to pull them off.” Tyrone sounded like he knew what he was talking about. “You need three people who are… close.” Tyrone looked at Tide and grinned.

  “Yes. I need men who aren’t ashamed of their bodies or their arousal.”

  Tyrone stroked Bran’s shoulder, like he was petting a big cat. “There is no shame for us in what we do. And we’ve worked with Tide before, giving demonstrations. Some in these exact poses.”

  “I’m imagining a few sessions to get all the poses and then one for reshoots. That is, if you’re willing, of course.” Lance couldn’t believe he had possibly found exactly the men he needed. He just might get that payday after all.

  “It looks like it’s going to be a fascinating collection in the end,” Tide noted.

  Tyrone nodded, nudged Bran. “Boy?”

  “It looks exciting, Master. Truly. But only if it’s for art, not porn.”

  Master? Had Bran said Master?

  “Yeah, we don’t do porn.” Tide shot the comment in Lance’s direction.

  “This is for a private collection. I’m selling him the deck, a single deck, not the original files.” Those were his.

  “We’d want a copy of the deck as well.” Tide looked through the sketches again. “And a guarantee that any other prints would need to be approved by us.”

  “I can offer that. I mean, if it goes well, I mean, I’d totally be open to hiring you for more photos.” Lance took a deep breath and told himself to get it together. “I mean, would you guys like a coffee?”

  Tide smiled warmly. “Sure. I’d love a coffee.”

  Tyrone pulled out his wallet and handed Bran a twenty. “You know what we like, boy.”

  “I’ve got it,” Lance insisted. “You just want a drip or what?” He was so nervous he couldn’t hold it together. Professional. Totally professional. He was entirely professional.

  “Don’t worry about it. Bran likes feeling useful.” Tyrone grabbed Bran’s hair and pulled his head back for a kiss.

  Lance stared, the full-on kiss shocking. Oh God. Don’t spring a woody. Don’t.

  When the kiss was over, Bran got up, looking smug, and Tyrone swatted him on the ass.

  “Show-off,” Tide muttered.

  Suddenly Lance wasn’t sure if he was supposed to get Tide’s coffee or not.

  Tyrone chuckled, settling back in his chair and turning his attention back to Lance. “So when are you wanting to do this and how much do you pay?”

  “I can pay you each two thousand dollars and I’d like to get all the pictures done in four or five days, with the option of picking up an extra day if I go through it and find I don’t have enough pictures for all fifty-two cards.”

  Tide and Tyrone looked at each other, some sort of silent communication going on between them. Then Tide turned back to him again
, smiled. “We need a contract, of course, but we’re in.”

  “Do you mind if I take a few shots today, just to check things?” He had the contracts with him and he pushed them across the table.

  Tyrone took them and started reading them over.

  It was Tide who answered him. “I think doing a few shots today is a great idea. It’ll let us see how you work, what we can expect.”

  “It doesn’t have to be formal. We’ve got a nice sun.”

  “Yeah? There’s a park across the street and Bran no doubt got our coffees to go.”

  “Okay. Cool. Let me grab another drink and I’ll meet you guys in the park.” Lance couldn’t believe he was actually going to get to shoot these amazing studs.

  “You got it.”

  Tyrone gathered up the contracts and stood, arm going around Bran as he got back to their table with three takeout coffee cups. “We’re going to the park, boy.”

  “Yes, Master.” Not even a question. Not a worry.

  The contrast of their skin was amazing too; they complemented each other beautifully and would photograph stunningly.

  “Quite the pair, aren’t they?” Tide asked.

  “They’re striking together, yes.”

  Tide went with him to the counter. “So how did you come across this particular project?”

  “I have a client who recommended me. We worked together in college and she thought I’d be the right choice for the job. I sent my resume and portfolio, and he loved my work.” It was just like getting any other job, but with way more cock.

  “You do a lot of nude males?” Tide handed the cashier a five, paying for his coffee.

  “Oh. I. Thank you.” How dear. “I’ve done some. I mostly do fine art pieces.”

  “You’ll have to show me your portfolio.” Tide sounded genuinely interested.

  “Of course.” Absolutely. That was totally reasonable.

  Tide put his hand on Lance’s lower back as they headed out of the coffee shop and it felt like he’d been hit with a live wire.

  Don’t spring wood. Think about mud. Bugs. Roadkill. It occurred to him that he was going to have to jack off thirty times before he shot these guys.

  They joined Tyrone and Bran across the street in the park, the sunlight highlighting the way they contrasted each other.

  Lance nodded. “Like I said, these are totally just quick shots. I just want to”—have some distance between me and you gorgeous bastards—“see what turns up.”

  He pulled his camera out and started shooting, not worrying about the light or much of anything. It was where he felt most comfortable anyway, and it was way easier to feel professional with the lens between him and these stunning men.

  “You want us to do anything in particular?” Tide asked, seeming unconcerned about the camera.

  “No. No, just hang out. No worries.”

  “You sure?” asked Tide. “No kissing? Posing?”

  At the word kissing, Tyrone and Bran totally locked lips.

  Lance let himself just shoot and not be a part of it, not think about anything but shapes and angles and light. It was so much safer back here.

  “Way to make everyone else jealous,” teased Tide, rolling his eyes.

  Laughing, Tyrone grabbed the collar of Tide’s T-shirt and pulled him into a kiss that looked like it should have smoke.

  This was going to be the best fucking set of shots ever. Lance couldn’t wait to see the results.

  When the kiss broke, he got an amazing shot of them looking at each other, fondness in their eyes. He’d let them have that one. Obviously they were all… close.

  Tide began mugging after that, doing typical model poses for him. Lance chuckled. There was something about Tide, something bright and fascinating. The man was looking at him through the lens, too. Like Tide could see right through it.

  No. No way. This was his defense against the world.

  Still, he felt Tide’s slow, easy smile all the way to his toes. Lance sighed softly. God, that was pretty.

  Tyrone and Bran sat together on the grass, talking quietly.

  “So. I’ve got Tide’s e-mail. Can you guys all let me know, after you read your contracts, if you’re interested and when good times are? I have a budget for supplies, but I’ll have to get with my client to see exactly what he’d be interested in.”

  “We have some of the things you might need,” Tyrone told him. “So don’t buy anything without checking first.”

  “Absolutely. I’m sure someone has a list.” Lance knew in general what might be a BDSM prop, but he was sure his client had some specific ideas and he was in no way an expert on the topic himself.

  “You don’t have a list of your own? We’ll supply you with one,” Tyrone offered.

  Lance shook his head, though. Like he had any idea what exactly they’d need. He’d put that on the client and pick up what was needed once he had that in hand. He’d been having so much trouble finding the right guys for the work, he hadn’t asked for a list, feeling it would have been premature—putting the cart before the horse.

  Tide took his hand. “We’ve got you covered.”

  His hand began to sweat, to tremble. “Th-thanks.”

  “We’ll e-mail you our agreement and contracts later today,” Tyrone suggested.

  “Sounds good. Let me know when you’re free, and we’ll make arrangements.”

  “We sure will.” Tide gave him a once-over that he could totally feel.

  “I should go. I’m so glad you guys showed. So glad.” Utterly freaking out, but glad.

  “It was really nice to meet you. Dream of us.” Tide looked at him like he was edible.

  “I. What?” He lifted his camera, putting it between them and shooting a picture.

  “The project,” Tide said. “Dream up all the poses you want so we’re all ready to go.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. Have a great day. Thank you.”

  Looking at him through the lens, Tide brought his hand up and kissed the back of it. “Thank you.”

  “Oh. I. Bye. Good-bye.”

  He waved and ran, his cock hard as nails. Forget thirty times, he was going to have to jack off a million times before they shot anything at all.

  Chapter Two

  “READY?” TIDE asked, hand up to knock on the door.

  He and Tyrone had discussed the matter. Tyrone and Bran had talked it over. All three of them had talked about it. They could absolutely do this. Which was good, because Tide wanted to see the hot little photographer again. Lance. Yum.

  Tyrone laughed at him and nodded. “Knock already, you dork.”

  He flipped off his best friend in the world and knocked.

  “Coming. Just a minute. I’m caught in cords.”

  Bran looked at him, grinned. “Lord.”

  “Shh. I’m picturing it.” That sweet boy all bound for his pleasure. Yum again.

  The door opened, and Lance appeared with his goatee and his shaggy hair and tiny wire-rimmed glasses and huge gray eyes. Fuck, the boy was pretty.

  Tide smiled. “Hello.”

  “Good morning. Thanks for coming. Please, come in.”

  The apartment was tiny, living area turned into a studio space and the dining area an office. It was clean, though, and light and airy.

  “This is a good space.” Really? Had he just said that? Like he was some biggie-wow photographer or set designer or something. God, Lance had him tripping over his own tongue.

  “It’s tiny and I know it, but it’s mine. Does anyone want coffee?”

  “No, we’re ready to go.” Tyrone put down the bag of goodies they’d brought. Plugs, cock rings, nipple clamps, collars, a flogger or two, a whip, a couple dildos, and of course, leather.

  “Yeah, I think we’d like to just get started.” The fact that he wanted to show off his body for Lance had nothing to do with it. Or everything.

  “Okay, sure. Did you have a place you’d like to start, or should we just dive in?” Lance asked.

 
“This is your show, darling.” Not that Tide was averse to running it. To running Lance.

  “I think we should start clothed. You said in your e-mail you could bring leather outfits?”

  “Yeah. We’ll change for you, see if you like it.” Tide was pretty damn sure Lance was going to like it.

  “Absolutely. I’m going to set up the lights. You can use my room to change.” Lance pointed them to a little bedroom filled with a twin bed, a recliner, and a TV. A twin bed. Someone needed a lesson in hedonism.

  “It’s pretty small. Go ahead, guys,” Tide told Tyrone and Bran. “I’m used to having very little privacy when changing.” It was one of the hazards of modeling.

  “I’ll play fluffer.” Bran had an amazing sense of humor.

  Tide snorted. “Like your master needs a fluffer.”

  Tyrone was so over the moon for Bran.

  “Still, touching is fun, Sir.” Bran had a point.

  Lance was popping lights and taking readings, muttering to himself.

  “Touching is the point, boy.” Tide swatted Bran’s happy little ass and gave Tyrone a grin.

  He grabbed his leathers out of the bag and put them over the back of a chair, put the baby powder on the seat before stripping his street clothes off.

  He wasn’t hard yet, though his prick had started to lengthen—he’d spent enough hours in the last few days jacking off to thoughts of Lance beneath him, kneeling in front of him, begging him, that seeing Lance in person had his body perked up with interest.

  There was a hidden promise in Lance, something that made Tide’s mouth dry.

  Grabbing the baby powder, he glanced over at the guy. Lance was kneeling on the ground, plugging something in, postage stamp sized ass high in the air. Tide didn’t hold back his groan, his prick going from interested to definitely hardening. It was going to be really hard to get his leathers on at this point.

  “Okay, that’s working.” Lance stood up, stretched.

  Tide admired the lean body on display. Oh yeah, definitely working.

  There was a tiny strip of skin exposed at Lance’s belly, the hint of a tattoo. What kind of tattoo would a man who took pictures for an erotic fetish deck of cards have? Tide wanted to know.