by Neil Plakcy
I closed my eyes in anguish. Was he right? Was I using him because of his looks? Was that all that mattered to me?
I thought about it. Is it really so wrong to want someone because he’s beautiful? Looking at Marc makes me happy. It’s fair to want that, isn’t it? It’s only shallow if that’s all I cared about. If Marc had been a conceited asshole instead of a sweetheart, I wouldn’t have done all this. I would have gone back to Rochester right after the show.
I arrived at the hotel, prepared to plead my case, when something pink caught my eye. On one of the lobby couches, Marc had left his hat, his phone, and his math book. I collected them and brought them upstairs. All I found was a note. He said he was sorry, but he’d decided to go back to Prague early. God damn.
I called my mom again. She wasn’t happy.
“Prague, now? If you’re this reckless with money, Trip, we’re not going to get you a condo when you graduate. You’re going to have to live with us until you calm down.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I understand. I’ll live with you guys if it means I can go.”
I could hear my mom’s disbelief. “Wow, Trip. Really? Well, if it’s that important to you.”
We hung up, and I called the concierge.
“Could you find me the first flight to Prague? First class? No, wait…coach.”
Maybe it’s because I live in a blocky brick dorm on a drab campus, but to me, Prague was almost as insanely beautiful as Rio. Gorgeous orange rooftops and church spires as far as I could see. Well, almost that far. Way in the distance there were some ugly Communist-era high-rise apartments, but if you ignored them, it was breathtaking. I felt a pain in my chest that I wasn’t discovering this city with Marc the way we had in Rio. I’d known him less than two days, and I already missed him more than anything.
I decided it wasn’t an invasion of privacy to turn on his phone and find his home number. I had to ask a passerby for help since his entries were in Czech. I called and his mom answered. He lived with his family? She told me he was at school, but I could stop by later. I found out they lived in the ugly high-rise neighborhood on the outskirts. I wondered if his family was poor. It was no big deal to me, but I knew from experience that a lot of regular folk are turned off by how I drop cash left and right. I guess just because you have a glamorous job, it doesn’t mean you always make glamorous bucks. I hoped he didn’t think I was trying to buy him.
I took a cab to his apartment, feeling beyond depressed. His family lived on the eleventh floor. The building look clean and in adequate condition, but I was surprised when his mother opened the door. They had sleek, modern furniture and a flat-screen TV. I suspected Marc’s mother was wearing real pearls.
She clapped her hands. “You have his hat! He’ll be so happy.” She yelled for him, I think, and then motioned for me to sit on their black velvet couch. I did come in, but I remained standing.
Marc came out wearing a baby blue T-shirt and old jeans. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but he was still breathtaking. I sighed.
“Here’s your stuff,” I said, handing him his textbook, phone, and hat.
He gave me a sweet smile and said “Thank you” in a quiet voice.
“I had to switch planes in Madrid,” I continued, aware that I was almost mumbling, “and I bought you something so you won’t lose your phone anymore. Attach this to your jeans.” I handed him a black leather holster. It was designed by Christiano Bastini, of course. I hoped it would remind Marc of me.
“Well…I don’t want to intrude,” I said. “I just wanted to do something nice for you and to say I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair now.”
“Wait,” he said and he ushered me out into the hallway. He pulled me into a tight hug. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you flew thousands of kilometers to return my hat.” He kissed me on the cheek.
My heart leaped. “Do you think you could give me a second chance?
“I want to, but we live so far apart. Perhaps—”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m moving to Prague today. I hear there’s a shortage of algebra tutors.” Good, I was back to my old self, and I made him laugh. “Seriously, though, I can visit you. A lot. If things work out, I could try to find a job here.”
Marc smiled but gave me a scrutinizing look. “Do you promise to graduate first?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“In that case...” Marc ran his hand down my side, and his lip curled in a grin. “There’s a certain photography contract I may be able to get for you.”
I tilted my head and smirked. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes.”
I kissed him on the lips. “I can’t wait to start.”
TIED UP
Emily Moreton
I’m just saying,” Matt said, hoisting himself onto the counter in the tiny kitchen tacked onto Simon’s studio and stealing a red apple. “This one’s real, right?” he asked, checking, and bit into it when Simon looked up from his cameras and nodded.
“Just saying what?” Simon prompted after a couple of bites.
“Hmm?” Matt asked. “That I don’t get the point of Christmas-themed erotic art. What are you going to do with these, put them on Christmas cards?”
Simon shrugged, eyes brightening in amusement. “I could. You could send them out to your family, with one of those ‘Here’s what I’ve been doing all year’ letters.”
“Oh yeah, I can just imagine it,” Matt said, putting his apple down so he could type on an imaginary keyboard. “Dear Mom and Dad, Merry Christmas, hope Zoë and her kids are well. Here’s a picture of me at my last job—it pays much better than painting. Please give Nanna and Pops the additional enclosed card when you see them, I’ll call Christmas Day.…”
Simon laughed. “Maybe not. Loretta commissioned them, for her gallery. She seems to think they’ll sell.”
Matt knew Loretta, a little, from displaying a series of his cityscape paintings there a few months back. “I think that’s actually more disturbing than the thought of you putting them on Christmas cards,” he said. “Remind me to turn her down if she invites me to any of the benefits.”
The studio intercom buzzed, and Simon patted Matt’s knee on his way to answer it. “I’m sure she wouldn’t make you go naked,” he said over his shoulder.
“I hate you,” Matt called after him cheerfully, and hopped down, throwing his half-eaten apple away.
Simon’s other model wasn’t one Matt had met before—taller than him by a couple of inches, not quite lean enough to be mistaken for a bean pole, but closing in on it, with light brown hair and green eyes, skin pale where Matt’s was darker. He grinned and reached out to shake Matt’s hand. “Danny West.”
“Matt Alvarez. Good to meet you.”
“You too.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Always so polite. You make me want to break out the tea and crumpets.”
“Do you have tea and crumpets?” Matt asked, prepared to be less than surprised if Simon said yes. Even for an erotic art photographer, he could be pretty strange.
“No. I’ll take you for coffee when we’re done if you like.” Simon met his eyes for a long moment, then looked away to Danny. “You too, of course.”
“Great,” Danny said, sounding a little doubtful.
“All right,” Simon said, after a moment of silence. “You two want to get ready?”
Simon hadn’t bothered to make the whole room up to look like a bedroom, just set a bed with dark matte covers in the middle, a small table to the side with their props, the rest of the room empty but for Simon’s equipment.
Matt had gotten over feeling weird about being naked in front of a total stranger and an old college friend with a camera after the first time, and at least Simon kept the heat up. The addition of mistletoe over the elaborate iron-framed bed made the whole thing a little stranger, but at least they weren’t wearing Santa hats or reindeer antlers.
“Be thankful for small mercies,” he muttere
d.
“Imagining jingle bell restraints?” Danny asked, wandering into the room behind Matt.
“Something like that,” Matt agreed. Unsurprisingly, given his pallor and the time of year, Danny didn’t have any tan lines, just darker pink around his nipples and an arrow of brown hair pointing down to his—okay, kind of impressive—cock. This could be fun.
“Ask me some time about a shoot I did in the UK, for Comic Relief,” Danny said, then, in response to Matt’s blank look, “Red Nose Day.”
Matt could already imagine. “Maybe not.”
The door to Simon’s office opened and he came in, armed with a couple of cameras. He fixed one to the tripod and hung the other round his neck, glancing up to smile at them both, hovering by the bed. “I’m going to take some general shots, check the angles. Why don’t the two of you get comfortable?”
Which was, ironically, the only time Matt felt really uncomfortable doing this—the change from naked-stranger-I’m-working-with to guy-I’m-getting-it-on-with was always awkward. “I’ll just—” he said, and gave up, sitting on the edge of the bed and shuffling back until he was reclining against the pillows.
“Yeah,” Danny said. His own smile was a little uncertain, but he crawled between Matt’s legs willingly enough, resting one hand at Matt’s side, and sliding the other up his neck to cup the back of his head. “You smell nice,” he said, and leaned in to kiss Matt, light and soft.
That was hardly conducive to what Simon wanted from the photographs. Matt wrapped his arms around Danny’s back, pulled him close so they could kiss properly, mouths opening against each other, Matt’s tongue sliding against Danny’s. He heard the click of Simon’s camera, somewhere close, and shifted slightly, till Danny’s leg slid between his, Danny’s soft cock against his thigh. He moved a little against Danny, felt the first twitch of interest.
“That’s good,” Simon said softly. “You two look good.”
“Say I’m pretty,” Matt said, not looking away from Danny, “and I’m leaving.”
Danny laughed, low enough to send a shiver through Matt’s nerves, and the camera clicked. “Pretty’s not the word,” Simon said. “Lie flat, okay, Matt.”
Danny lifted himself up on his arms, enough for Matt to wriggle down under him, skin against skin in all the right places, and it didn’t seem like either of them were going to struggle to get it up this time. Danny settled over him again, cocks sliding together, and touched Matt’s face softly. Matt turned into it, kissed his palm. It still wasn’t really the right tone for what Simon wanted from his pictures, but it was kind of nice, and Danny seemed to like it.
Matt wondered if he should have taken Simon up on the offer to have the two of them meet before the shoot. These things were always easier if he’d slept with his co-model in advance.
“That’s good,” Simon said, sounding like he was moving. “I’m gonna switch cameras, then we’ll shift to the real thing.”
“Sounds good,” Danny said, using the hand on Matt’s cheek to turn him so they could kiss again. Matt closed his eyes, listened to Simon moving around somewhere close, and rubbed his hands down Danny’s muscled back, the curve of his ass, figuring it was probably the last chance he was going to get to touch. Skin under his palms felt good, starting up a low burn of arousal that he knew would just get more as they went on.
He hoped Danny was one for happy endings.
“Okay,” Simon said, close again.
Matt opened his eyes, turned his head to see Simon crouched by the bed, hands empty on his knees. The position pulled his pants tight in all the right places, and Matt felt the same flare of arousal he always did at seeing his friend in his element like this. It wasn’t like he’d never slept with a photographer before—between the set-up and the camera, most shoots felt more like foreplay than work—but Simon had never seemed interested.
Matt forced himself to focus on the job, letting his eyes drift slightly to the camera on a tripod behind Simon, angled toward the head of the bed.
“Matt, bend your far leg,” Simon said, nodding as Matt complied. “Little less. Danny, sit across him, turn your back to the camera slightly. These won’t show anything below the waist, okay? That’s it, good. Can you balance like that, leaning forward, no hands?”
Danny tried, tilted forward, and caught his balance on the wrought iron headboard. “Hold on,” he said, shifting, dropping a little more weight onto Matt, who hissed without meaning to, Danny’s balls pressing against his stiffening cock. Danny ignored it, and said, “Like this is okay.”
Simon stood up, went behind the camera. “Yeah, all right. Don’t lean too far to the right, you’ll block the shot. Matt, put your arms above your head, hands around the railings.”
Matt complied, feeling the stretch in his ribs. When he glanced down, he could see Danny’s cock resting against his stomach, half-hard. He thought about Danny pushing into him and shivered.
“Nice,” Simon said. “Now if you could just look at his face, maybe,” he added, sounding like he was laughing.
“Fuck off,” Matt said pleasantly, meeting Danny’s eyes, bright green, nothing like the mistletoe Matt could just see above them.
“Yeah, yeah.” The camera clicked a couple of times. “Okay, Danny, let’s go. His left hand needs to be low enough that we can see his face still, and the knots need to look real, please.”
Danny leaned over, picked up one of the red satin scarves lying on the table, and ran it through his hands, not looking away from Matt. “I think I can manage that,” he said.
The first loop of the material around his wrists was like an electric shock, same as always, straight down his spine and into his cock, his balls, everything going tight. Matt would be the first to admit it was a kink he was maybe a little too into to be putting on film, but Simon had asked, and it felt good. Really good, with the world narrowing down to Danny over him, the metal under his clenched fingers, the smooth material of the scarves against his skin, and the click of the camera, Simon’s low voice, somewhere far away but still feeling like one more set of hands on him.
He was aware that he was breathing fast, his cock pressing against Danny’s ass, but it was okay; Danny’s pupils were blown wide, and it was clear he was far from unaffected.
“That okay?” Danny asked, fingertips light over Matt’s curled fingers.
Matt tugged. There was a little give, but not enough for him to move, even when he unclenched his fingers and created more. He nodded.
“Matt, look at me,” Simon said. He was still behind the camera, but he smiled. “Danny…”
Danny ran his hand down Matt’s arm, bent to kiss his neck, the wrong side for the camera.
“Something like that, yeah,” Simon said. He sounded slightly breathless, Matt thought, though it was hard to tell when his face was mostly hidden. Probably it was a good thing; meant the pictures were working. “That’s nice.”
Danny kissed Matt’s neck again, hand sliding even further down to run a dry finger over his nipple. Danny’s hips were moving, a tiny rocking motion that slid his cock against Matt’s stomach, and Matt couldn’t remember when he’d started doing it, only that it felt hot against his skin, burning him.
“That’s good,” Simon said again. “I’m gonna switch camera positions. Danny, there’s condoms on the table, like usual, and lube. Close-ups, no faces—your fingers in him, then your cock. All right?”
“Yeah,” Danny said, sounding hesitant.
“What?” Matt asked, trying to pull out of the headspace he could feel himself dropping into, remember that this wasn’t all about him, even though it felt like it.
Danny hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He smiled, and it didn’t seem forced. “Everything’s fine. You need anything?”
Matt shook his head, since none of the things he wanted to ask for were appropriate for a professional relationship, and mostly weren’t things he wanted to ask Danny for anyway.
Danny nodded, and moved off of Matt,
sitting on the edge of the bed to reach for the condom packet. Matt shifted, glad for the restraints so he couldn’t reach down and get himself off. No orgasms in this shoot—one of the models for a different set of pictures in the same theme had made a cum/snow joke that had given Simon a complex about it.
“All right,” Simon said, back behind the camera. “Matt, bend your far leg again, right up this time, and slide the other one over. Danny, between his legs. I want to see both of you.”
Danny knelt up again, the thin condom nearly invisible, though Matt knew Simon would Photoshop out any evidence of it, and slid one bent leg under Matt’s. His fingers were slick with lube as they skimmed over Matt’s balls, making him hiss again, and he slid two into Matt with an ease that obviously surprised him.
“Proper pre-planning,” Matt started, not bothering to finish when Danny laughed. He didn’t add that he’d learned the hard way, with photographers who weren’t like Simon, weren’t careful of their models the way he was.
Danny had nice fingers, long and thin, and it felt better than it had when Matt had done it to himself, alone in the tiny changing room, even though Danny was going too slow. Danny rubbed his thumb against the patch of skin behind Matt’s balls, then over them, circling at the same rhythm as his fingers were moving in Matt’s ass, and Matt turned his head from the camera, his breathing speeding up all over again. “Easy,” Danny said softly.
“Yeah,” Matt gasped. His cock ached, and his skin was hot enough that Danny’s thumb felt like ice on him. “Keep going.”
Danny added another finger, and the camera clicked, and Matt moaned, even knowing he’d be humiliated at the memory of this, when Danny, for all that he was hard, barely seemed to be emotionally affected at all. Matt twisted his hands, banged his thumb against the headboard and hardly felt it. The click of the camera felt like another pair of hands on his body, stronger than it ever had before, multiplied by it being Simon behind the camera, by how easy it was to imagine Simon himself touching.