by Amy Lane
“Trying to make it last, babe,” he’d murmured. And he had. The rest of that moment had been long, drawn out, slow, including his presence in her body. When he was done, she had trembled and let out a long, low cry in the dark and then clung to him, almost in tears.
“What? What’d I do?”
“God, Chase. You made me feel special. It was the first time I really got the idea of making love, you know that?”
He didn’t tell her that he’d had to. He didn’t tell her that it had been his way of making up for the fact that he wished he was with another person, another gender, and that this thing they were doing, this thing that he wanted to be wonderful for her, because she had made him laugh and had helped him with his history papers and had watched old movies with him and had tickled him when he’d been pissed at his coach, this sacred passage to adulthood, was a lie.
He’d hated every moment, including his orgasm, because it felt like cheating, and because Mercy deserved better.
MERCY crawled into bed with him around four in the morning, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Mmm…,” she mumbled, “you used my body wash.”
“Yeah,” he slurred, lying even when he was half-asleep, “I missed you.”
“What was the job like?” she asked, settling her cheek against his back. “Are you going back tomorrow?”
“Hamster riots,” Chase mumbled, thinking about the frantic sex he’d seen in the shower and the two cameramen moving in and out seamlessly, quiet and quietly busy. “And yeah. It pays real good. They’ve got a job for me before Christmas.”
“Good,” she mumbled softly. “Want presents.”
“Yeah, babe. Want to treat you right.”
She fell asleep warm and comforted, curled against his back.
Eyes Closed in the Sun
THE two young men were lying outside in the sun, on big chaise lounge pads set up on a blanket. The one with the dyed blond hair was a little pale, but working on his tan. The other one, smaller, with sandy-brown hair, was already tan, and their skin, oiled and nearly hairless—at least down to the short line—glistened in the sun.
“So, Chance,” said the smaller one, “how do you like Florida?”
“It’s frickin’ awesome,” Chance breathed. His shoulders twitched luxuriously, and his smaller companion turned his head and grinned.
“We’ll get a tan on you yet, Sunshine,” he said with a smirk. “You want an all-over tan?”
“Okay, aren’t I going to burn my wiener or something? Because that’s a part of me that doesn’t get a lot of sun.”
The smaller guy burst into raucous laughter, his knees coming up as he rolled around the chaise lounge pad, and the camera shook as the man behind it burst into giggles.
“I CAN’T believe you’re putting that in there,” Chase said, red-faced, as he, Cameron, and Dex watched the rushes the next day.
Dex shook his head. “Man, it was priceless! There I was, getting all up to shoot some porn, and suddenly you have to talk about your burning wiener!”
Cameron snickered behind them, and Chase just shook his head. “I felt bad!” he protested. “You had to totally reset the shot!”
“HOW white could your wiener possibly be?” wheezed Cameron, who was still rolling around like a rabid monkey.
The look on Chance’s face grew mutinous, and he shoved his tropical island bathing suit down with undue force, revealing that, yes, although his forearms were a little more tan than his pale upper arms and shoulders, his entire groin area, half-masted cock included, was lizard-belly white.
“I’m blind!” hooted the voice behind the camera, and Chance pulled up his shorts with a pout.
“Oh, like I’m going to fuck now!” he snapped, and the camera’s perspective shifted as the cameraman sat down abruptly and hooted laughter into the fuzzy, shaking shot.
“GOD, it was hysterical,” Dex said with wonder. “There we were, all serious about making a sex tape, and there you were, white as a freakin’ ghost and worried about burning your johnson. And then when we finally did get around to having sex, it was….”
Dex trailed off, and Cameron breathed it for him. “So. Fucking. Hot.”
CHANCE and Cameron were in a room now, the glistening oil from the outside shot washed off their bodies, but still wearing the swim trunks they had been in.
“So,” Dex said from the other side of the camera, “Chance, this is the first time you’ve ever really had sex with a man, right?”
Chance winked. “Except for that time you blew me, yeah.”
“That was awesome. You think this’ll be as good?”
That cocky jock’s grin came out, the lazy one with the hooded eyes, and Chance looked at his chosen companion for the day. “Hoping it’ll be better, if Cam can show me the ropes.”
Without any more preliminary, Cam rolled over in the bed and kissed him on the mouth. Chance groaned immediately, grasped Cam’s biceps, and started kissing back.
THAT kiss had been… oh God. It was the first time he’d ever kissed a man, open-mouthed, with tongue, savoring the taste, wanting more. Cameron was funny and (like all of the models) beautiful, and his complete meltdown with the “wiener incident,” as he called it, had certainly broken the ice. It had been fun to lie there in the sun and chat in front of the camera, and Chase had been sort of disappointed when they’d stopped shooting on account of hysterical laughter. But the camaraderie of that moment—that had more than made up for the letdown of not having sex right away.
And that’s what had happened. They’d showered to get the oil off, talking in the shower like teammates—in fact, the entire thing had reminded Chase of being on the baseball team, and hanging with Donnie and Kevin.
The thought of Donnie brought him to half-mast again, and the fluffing session in the room, as they both reached inside their shorts and got themselves hard, had been unsurprisingly short.
And then, in the middle of the “pre-sex chat,” as Dex called it, Cam had just rolled over and kissed him and, oh God….
“MMM…,” Chance groaned into Cameron’s mouth, and Cam started kissing his neck, his chest, his nipples, and Chance groaned “Oh God!” into the small room with the white walls and open shutters. Chance’s body had leaned down and bulked up since the shot with Dex, and his stomach muscles rippled and his chest flexed as he palmed shaking hands up and down Cameron’s arms, shoulders, and back.
“You like that?” Cam asked, moving to the other side, and Chance’s body bucked against Cam’s and Chance’s fingers tightened in Cam’s short hair, holding him there, teasing the nerve endings in the sensitized skin until Chance groaned again and fumbled for Cam’s shoulder, apparently just to hold on. Cam kept kissing, spending time on his ribs and on his stomach, and within moments, Chance was lying on his back and Cam was stripping off his shorts.
FLORIDA had been a revelation. Chase had never been on a plane before, and he’d spent half the time staring out the window, looking for marks of the alien landscape below the night-lit gray, and half the time sleeping, leaning his head against the window, wondering what things were skating below, underneath the cover of the November clouds. As the plane had descended near Orlando, he had looked beneath him and seen giant pools of water, stained brown from the tannin in the oak trees, looking mysterious and close.
The air was thick and humid, even in November, and the temperature was in the low eighties. It was sunny, with a little bit of haze and a persistent breeze that gave Chase goose bumps.
Sacramento had been forty degrees and slate-gray all over when he’d left. It was like being in a new place gave him a “Chance” to be a whole new Chase.
Dex had been the one to pick him up from the airport, with Cameron and a guy named Scott in the back, and Chase had expected to go straight to the house that doubled as a set, but they hadn’t. They’d gone grocery shopping first.
It had seemed like such a pedestrian thing to do—so very, very normal—and Chase had almost giggle
d as Dex had sent him sprinting through the store looking for beef marinade and artichoke hearts and spices for the half-a-cart full of beef, pork, and chicken that he’d thrown in.
“What the hell is all this for?” he laughed as Chase came back with three different bottles of dressing—Italian, Ranch, and Thai.
“Dex has a bug up his ass,” Cameron muttered on his way to go get potato chips.
“I wish he had my dick up his ass,” Scott muttered, looking at Chase wickedly, and Chase smirked. Scott was a tall guy with dark hair, a long jaw, bold nose, and a wiry build, and Chase had watched some of his videos; he was impressively hung (and not all the guys were) and he apparently loved to be on top with a passion and intensity unrivaled on the roster. It almost went without saying that Scott wished he had his dick up somebody’s ass, and apparently Dex was no exception.
Chase shook his head and ran back to the cart and actually asked Dex what it was for. Dex shrugged. “The house is full of guys, Chance. Everyone’s hungry, eating out alone can suck. Let’s get together and grill, right?”
Chase stopped and blinked. “Your family did this a lot, didn’t they?” he said, feeling dumb. Donnie’s family had backyard barbecues all the time; it was just something that happened on Sundays, and, well, it wasn’t like Chase was missed at home when he went to Donnie’s instead.
Dex colored. “Yeah. I’m going to Montana for Christmas, but I didn’t get to go during the summer.”
And Chase didn’t need any more explanation than that. “What else do you want me to get? Do they have corn on the cob? Is that even in season? Because my friend’s mom used to grill corn on the cob, and I loved that shit.”
Dex’s grin was cocky and insouciant as ever. “Yeah, junior. You go look for some corn on the cob.”
He ruffled Chase’s hair and Chase said, “Bite me!” and then he went and found some goddamned corn on the goddamned cob.
“Lots of it!” Dex hollered across the store. “There’s like twelve of us!”
And of course they all worked out and fucked like lemmings, Chase thought. More corn!
The Cypress Point house was, well, amazing, really. It looked like a movie set, two stories with big-pane glass windows overlooking a garden that looked like something from a Jane Austen film, except sunnier.
“Fucking. Wow.” Chase gazed at the house in complete amazement. “He owns this?”
“Leases,” Dex confessed. “And honestly? I think he slept with someone’s son to get the deal.”
Cameron snorted from the backseat. (Cameron wasn’t that tall, so he got the backseat. Chase and Scott had done rock/scissors/paper/lizard/Spock to get the front. Chase had won with Spock to crush Scott’s scissors.)
“What?” Chase asked, curious. He liked John—and he enjoyed the hell out of working with him—but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to gossip.
“Nothing,” Cameron said with an evil little smile. “I think he just gets a kick out of filming gay porn here, that’s all. I’m pretty sure the neighbors don’t approve, even the ones who are gay!”
Chase blinked. “Well yeah, but what porn is approved?” he asked rhetorically, and Scott and Cameron laughed a lot more than Chase thought the crack deserved.
“Is there a swimming pool?” he asked while they cackled like chickens in the back seat, and Dex smiled and winked as he piloted the SUV through a driveway that felt like half a mile long and parked in a carport/garage that adjoined the house.
“God, I hope so,” Dex said as he killed the engine. “That’s where you’re going to shoot right after lunch.”
“Yeah,” Cam said, looking excited—and then disappointed. “But don’t eat, remember?”
“He knows!” Dex reassured him, and Cameron looked woefully at the stacks of supplies they had to load into the house.
“God, Chase, I hope you can come in an hour’s worth of shooting, okay? Man, I’m fucking starving!”
I could probably come within ten seconds if you wrapped that sweet mouth around my cock and begged.
“Man, I’ll do my best, but I’ve never had sex outside before. Make sure no gators come up and eat my wang, okay?”
“Now that would be a crime against nature,” Dex said, and Cameron chortled.
“Yeah, but at least I’d get to eat!”
Cameron was as hyper as a sugar-amped third-grader, and Chase couldn’t help wonder what he’d be like in bed. Scott, on the other hand, was laconic and easygoing—but his sarcasm was a lot harder and meaner than Cameron’s. Chase thought he could probably get off with either one of them—they were both good-looking, and he’d learned from touching Dex that experience counted—but he was glad Cameron was going to be his partner for the day.
But that wasn’t until later. In the meantime, they spent two hours lassoing whoever was hanging around to help. Suddenly, Chase was surrounded by ten other young men his age, laughing, telling dirty jokes, singing raucously, and bumping each other in the shoulder or snapping each other with towels. Cameron was an incorrigible towel-snapper until two of the other guys each took an arm and sat on him, tickling him until he threatened to wet his pants. But while that was going on, they shucked and washed corn, peeled and cut fruit, set steaks in marinade, and dumped chips and raw vegetables in bowls that went on the front table.
“Okay,” Dex said, as he and Scott were doing dishes, “that’s it. Cam and Chance need to get ready for a shoot; Tango and Kenny are coming off of one in about half an hour. The rest of you freeloaders can start up the grill around six. Make sure the bug lights are on, start the fire pit if it’s cold, and don’t eat all the chips before we’re done with the shoot. This is Chance’s cherry top here, and he’s gonna be starving!”
Chase was already starving. He’d taken Dex’s advice to heart and had a smoothie before he got on the plane, and had some oatmeal when they’d gotten to the house. He could see why Cam was so worried about lunch. It was a careful balance, wasn’t it? But then, as Chase put on his swimming trunks and had Cam oil his back before they went to stretch out, he figured he was probably as good at balancing as anyone else on the planet.
ON THE screen, Cameron had pulled Chance’s pants down, and had his lips brushing where Chance’s pubic hair used to be. Chance was arching off the bed, scrabbling and lost, when suddenly he said, “Don’t I get to blow you?”
“Good instinct there,” Dex murmured as they watched Cameron move his wiry little body so his cock dangled over Chase’s mouth. Chase shrugged off Dex’s compliment, remembering the way Cam had tasted and how swallowing his erection to the back of Chase’s throat had felt imperative, like that cock was even better than food.
THE sixty-nine position could have been awkward, but Cameron was buff and a pro. He pulled his camera arm out of the way and held himself over Chance’s body, doing one-armed push-ups as they both performed the requisite porn-fellatio. Chance seemed to be transported—he was making breathless sounds for pleasure when Cameron sucked him down, and greedy ones when it was his turn to swallow Cam.
Chance pulled Cam all the way to the back of his throat, and Cameron dropped his camera arm for a moment and let Chance’s cock slide out of his mouth. He raised his head and grunted then, and then started to plead, and then, before Chance really seemed to know what was happening, he had scrabbled for the lube and condom waiting under the pillow on the bed and covered Chance’s cock with condom first, lube second.
“Oh God!” Chance gasped, because Cam had scooted forward, seized his cock, and impaled himself in what felt like record time.
“I COULD hardly believe he did that,” Chase said, watching it now. “I mean, seriously—so much for my cherry, right?”
Cameron grimaced and clapped him on the shoulder with one hand while stuffing his face with chips with the other. “Yeah, well, my cherry was gone a long time ago. You totally made me crazy there.”
He looked at Dex and nodded. “Mouth like a virgin’s ass,” he said seriously, and Chase and Dex both closed their
eyes and grimaced.
“I didn’t think he could actually say anything that would gross me out,” Dex muttered. “How on earth could I think he couldn’t say anything that would gross me out?”
It didn’t matter. They watched the rest of the video, from the change in positions (Cameron lay on his back and spread his legs to give Chase better access) to the end, the come-shots, and Chase’s final kiss. Chase had collapsed forward and was nuzzling Cameron’s collarbone and then kissing him on the mouth—the way they’d been told to do—when Dex suddenly said, “Cameron, aren’t you ready to eat yet?”
“Yeah. Are we going to use anything from the shower?”
“You two bored the shit out of me in the shower,” Dex said. “Go eat!” And Chase had to agree. Unlike that scene with Tango and Ethan, his shower scenes seemed to be a lot of him with big eyes, just agreeing to what both Dex and now Cameron said as they soaped up their privates.
“Awesome. I’m so gone!” And Cameron dodged out of the room, carrying the bowl of chips under his arm without a backward glance.
Chase was going to follow him when Dex said, “Wait a sec, Chance. C’mere for a sec, will you?”
Chase went back to where Dex had just finished rewinding the tape, and Dex said, “Look, man. I need you to watch this part here for a second, okay?”
Chase nodded, and saw the end, after they’d both come all over Cam’s abs, when Chase fell forward for the kiss and the nuzzle before the fade to black.
Dex brought the camera in to where Chase was nuzzling Cam’s collarbone, and Chase remembered that moment.
God, he was just so funny! And so sweet. And he felt so good. I just wanted to give him something then—was that so bad? To give him something there?