by KC Burn
Now that their bodies were pressed together, there was no awkwardness, no stumbling, no clumsiness. Caleb devoured Raven’s mouth like a starving man, while Raven worked his hands under Caleb’s shirt.
Raven’s long fingers were nimble and strong, and when Raven hit skin, he made Caleb shudder. Raven moaned into his mouth, and Caleb thrust his tongue deeper.
Caleb had never been with someone so close to him in height, but he liked it. They fit together well, their mouths at the right height, their groins able to press together deliciously. He rubbed and was rewarded with another moan. Raven’s erection was prominent and mobile without the constriction of pants or underwear, and Caleb knew after this he’d forever be a fan of kilts. He had a momentary vision of kneeling, his head up underneath the kilt, mouth filled with hot, hard cock, and Raven moaning above him. This time it was Caleb’s turn to groan; he hadn’t even known to factor the kilt into his fantasies and he’d so missed out.
But there was time to get there. He’d spent too much time imagining this moment to let it end so soon. First, there was kissing. More kissing. Raven kissed like he was starved for Caleb’s touch, and Caleb hadn’t realized how badly he wanted to devour this man.
He moved his lips to the long column of Raven’s neck, licking and nipping, but trying desperately not to leave marks. Raven’s pale skin would show just about anything, and it seemed presumptuous to leave that sort of evidence after minutes of interaction. Raven just tilted his head back, a strangled whimper caught in his throat. Caleb wanted to bite, wanted to suck, wanted people to know he’d had his mouth on Raven, and that wasn’t like him. Nothing about this was like him, but he wanted this man so fucking much he was almost blind from lust.
Raven dug his fingers into Caleb’s shoulders, and Caleb moved down to the naked canvas of Raven’s chest, the definition of muscle clear even though Raven wasn’t bulked up. The clean, salty sweat on his tongue only made him want to taste every inch of Raven’s skin, but he didn’t know if he’d have the endurance to do that all at one go. Not when his cock was already throbbing and eager, demanding to get up close and personal with Raven’s body.
He hadn’t realized he’d been moving them until the momentum stopped as Raven’s legs bumped up against the bed. Raven’s heavy breathing, dilated pupils, and pink flush told Caleb all he needed to know, even if he hadn’t felt a hard cock nestled up against his. Firmly, he coaxed them both on the bed, the press of Raven’s firm body under his better than he imagined.
Bringing his lips back to Raven’s, he nibbled and licked at Raven’s mouth until Raven opened up, and they kissed frantically.
If it weren’t for the kilt looming large in his mind, he could kiss Raven for hours. Or discover the taste and texture of the entirety of Raven’s body. But there was something irresistible about the kilt. Sliding a hand down Raven’s chest, he was almost waylaid by that warm, firm skin, but the lure of the kilt overrode all. He skimmed Raven’s hip, heading for the hem. Then he slid his hand underneath to grip a well-muscled, hairy thigh and shivered. He was seconds away from finding out if Raven was wearing underwear under that kilt. He wasn’t supposed to, was he? Precome wet the front of his underwear at the thought of his hand encountering nothing but a hot, hard cock.
Caleb squeezed just above Raven’s knee before sliding up. He was almost at his destination when Raven wrenched his mouth away from Caleb’s and pushed at his shoulders. Immediately, he pulled his hand back out. “Raven? Are you okay?”
“No. I need… I need to get up.”
Most of Raven’s pink flush had receded, and he wouldn’t look at Caleb. God. He’d gone too damn fast, hadn’t he? After all, Raven was younger, and here Caleb had barreled into his hotel room and pushed him onto the bed. Well, not exactly, but he had been unusually aggressive.
Caleb leaped off the bed and held out a hand to help Raven up. His hair was mussed, and his lips were moist and puffy, but despite how gorgeous he was, he looked afraid.
“Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not… I don’t….” With blood still concentrated south of his belt, and his cock throbbing insistently, Caleb couldn’t think of a way to say what he was thinking without sounding like an ass. But the thought of scaring Raven with his intensity made him feel sick. He should have gone slower. Talked more before just leaping down Raven’s throat.
“It’s okay.” But Raven still wouldn’t look at him, and he’d clenched those long, narrow hands together so tightly the knuckles were whitening.
Caleb had to explain and wrenched his concentration away from the hard piece of flesh that wasn’t going to get its way today. “There’s no excuse. I was here to do a job, and… and… I find you incredibly attractive. So much so that it overrode my professionalism.” The tips of Raven’s ears pinked up, and Caleb took some satisfaction that Raven heard the compliment in his awkward words.
“Thank you,” Raven whispered. “But I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to. I pushed it, and I’m sorry. I don’t normally do hookups, anyway.” Stupidly, as Jaime had said on numerous occasions, but there it was. “Doing this with someone who’s only here on vacation just isn’t me, no matter what impression I’ve given so far. If you were local, maybe this would be different. Maybe we could… see each other.”
Caleb didn’t want to make Raven uncomfortable, so he didn’t insist Raven look at him, but he wanted to. He wanted to make sure Raven was okay. Then again, after practically forcing himself on a man whose last name he didn’t know, he’d suggested that maybe they could date. He was so fucking smooth.
Nevertheless, it was time for him to go, and he’d never been more thankful that he didn’t have anywhere to be or anyone waiting on him. He was going to go drown this debacle in a beer or three in front of his television in his tiny little apartment.
After adjusting his still-hard cock, Caleb hoisted his toolbox up and headed for the door. He paused for a moment before he grabbed the handle. “Again. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Wait.”
Caleb turned back, the sudden rise of hope in his chest almost making him dizzy. Raven was right there, but still refusing to look him in the eye. Caleb waited.
“I am local.” Raven tucked a business card into Caleb’s shirt pocket before he whirled and fled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Caleb pulled out the card, dark red with white numbers. A phone number with a local area code, and nothing else.
Somewhat perplexed, since Raven hadn’t actually invited him to call, Caleb carefully tucked the card back into his pocket and let himself out of the room.
FUCK, FUCK, fuck. Raven leaned back against the bathroom door, his heart racing and his chest constricting tight enough to make it hard to breathe. He lifted a trembling hand and stared at it. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He’d been hard for another man, been underneath another man for the first time in over a year. And he’d liked it, but then Caleb had reached under his kilt, heading north, toward territory that Raven had assumed would be forever inviolate.
The sound of the hotel room door shutting allowed the weight on his chest to lift, but a strange urge to run after Caleb filled him. He didn’t bother giving in, partly because his legs were still shaky enough that he didn’t trust them to hold him up, and partly because he didn’t think calling Caleb back would change anything. He wasn’t ready to be naked with anyone, least of all a stranger. Bringing Caleb back would only waste their time, and it might actually give Raven an honest-to-God heart attack.
Although he’d been embarrassed at being a cocktease, something Raven hadn’t been since he’d discovered sex, he’d been impressed at Caleb’s understanding response—even if he’d been too quick to take the blame. Raven certainly didn’t think Caleb had pushed too far. It was Raven’s own fucked-up mental state that was to blame for their abortive attempt to explore the fiery attraction between them. If nothing else, Raven had not imagined their connection, which was scary
combustible in a way he hadn’t ever experienced.
But terror soon outweighed arousal, and Raven had thrown a metaphorical bucket of water all over the proceedings.
He lifted his head to look in the mirror. Ten shades of milk on his face. So stupid, to panic. He’d had close-ups on film of three guys twisting him into a pretzel while they made use of just about all of him, and yet one nice guy with a hand up his kilt nearly drove him headfirst into a panic attack.
The stupid thing was, if he thought back to Caleb’s lips on his, the taste and warmth of a man kissing him, it made his stomach warm and fluttery. He’d never been kissed like Caleb had kissed him. Maybe he’d missed out on something. He hadn’t been a virgin when he’d gone to work for Idyll Fling, but neither had he had tons of experience. The first time he’d been kissed had been on camera, and he’d never had a boyfriend. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember ever being kissed off camera. Hell, once he became popular on the site, he rarely had sex off camera, either. There never seemed to be any point, because the guys he’d have sex with were always other models, and as much as he enjoyed sex, being filmed having sex was work. He’d rarely been horny enough to have it just for fun.
If only he had someone he could call. Someone he could talk to—who wasn’t a medical professional—who could give him some advice, listen to his fucked-up problems. He’d be grateful if he had someone in his life close enough that he could call them up to drive him home because he wanted to be back at his condo so badly. There was no way he could sleep here tonight, not with the scent and memories of Caleb so strong, but he didn’t trust himself behind the wheel. Not when he felt like this.
Besides, anyone he knew would laugh. The ex–porn star, afraid of getting naked. Afraid of sex. He could barely even consider his hang-up legitimate, not when he heard some of the other models’ stories about sexual abuse and rape. Raven had been lucky to avoid that; he shouldn’t be so fucked up about being naked. Hell, he could hardly believe he’d had the guts to give Caleb his number. Not that Caleb would use it; not after Raven had been such a freak. Guaranteed, even if Caleb called him again, Raven would only freak out the same way. But something in him couldn’t let go of the hope.
Which only proved he was a freak and an idiot.
He only had one solution to this predicament. Taking a deep breath, he left the questionable safety of the bathroom and picked up his phone.
With a taxi on the way, he quickly packed up his stuff. Sure, he’d still have to pay for the room, but he could pick up his car tomorrow before checkout, and then he wouldn’t have to risk driving in his less than stellar condition.
Not for the first time he wished he wasn’t going home to an empty condo. He would have to give some more consideration to getting a cat.
Chapter EIGHT
RAVEN PULLED up to the square gray building and parked. It didn’t look like much, but the former factory had been transformed into a warren of sets, changerooms, bathrooms, and offices to accommodate the day-to-day activities of Idyll Fling Studios. The interior was warm and inviting in a way he knew some people would never believe of a studio that created erotic videos, but for a long time it had represented a place where he belonged. Now he was simply conflicted.
Maybe this was what kids felt when they left home on their own, as a natural consequence of growing into adulthood? Leaving the nest and spreading their wings, and yet still experiencing the urge to return to the nest and hide from the big bad world. Raven’s mother had never represented “home” to him, so he didn’t know what that was like.
Stupid of him, perhaps, but this was where Raven wanted to come and hide. Idyll Fling had given him something that he didn’t know he could have—confidence in himself. Not the in-your-face brashness of his youth, but the true confidence to enjoy being in the spotlight.
His path was only one of many ways guys ended up shooting porn, and Idyll Fling was a business, first and foremost, not a halfway house. But that didn’t change the fact that the only people who’d even come close to caring about him after he’d been on his own were men who were involved in the studio. And now the time had come to spread his wings, because the accident had ensured he couldn’t be a part of the nest, not in any way he was happy with.
Letting out a sigh, Raven got out of his car, the one he’d so recently retrieved from the hotel parking lot, and headed inside. He was one of the trusted few who didn’t need to pass by reception, although he sensed time was running out on that concession. Stefan Silverman ran a tight ship, and if Raven wasn’t going to be a part of the moneymaking juggernaut that was Idyll Fling, it was unlikely Stefan would continue giving him run of the building.
He made his way to the center of the building, which housed the server rooms as well as the most active sets. Ducking into the viewing room, he waved a greeting at Stefan and a few other models who were watching the scene being filmed in the “college dorm” room. Raven settled into one of the seats and tried to watch.
One of the guys on screen was more than familiar. Raven had done a number of videos with Gregor in the year before his accident. Fans had really enjoyed the combination of Gregor’s beefy musculature and Raven’s infinite flexibility, and requested them to be paired over and over. Having Gregor manhandle him, spread his legs, push them almost over his head, had gotten them nominated for more than one award. Trying to be dispassionate and objective, Raven assessed Gregor’s partner in the scene—Javier, a model he’d never been introduced to. His body type was similar to Raven’s, but he didn’t have nearly the same flexibility. Then again, Raven would never again be as flexible as the newbie blond on screen, either.
Jealousy rose up in his throat, hot and bitter. Not about Gregor. They’d gotten along fine and had some spectacular sexual chemistry. No, it was the visible reminder of loss. Gregor had been his partner in his last video, and watching Gregor with a new guy only reminded Raven, with the harshness of road rash, that he didn’t belong here anymore. That once again his life had changed without his consent or direct influence.
Raven averted his eyes. This was one of the reasons he found directing unpalatable. If he’d graduated to it once he’d aged out of being the center of attention, he could have enjoyed it. Maybe. He’d never been good at hiding, though, which had caused him a number of problems over the years. Most times, he enjoyed the attention. With his surprisingly good genes, though, it would have been years before he’d aged out of being the perpetual… not twink. He was too tall, his coloring too naturally emo to qualify as a twink. But youthfulness was prized in the majority of the porn industry, and Raven probably would have fooled the cameras until he’d gotten tired of doing it. Or until he’d decided to move on for another reason.
Instead of watching the screen, he watched the viewers instead. He’d known Stefan from the beginning, as well as Stefan’s partner and primary director, Paul. The three of them had gradually transitioned to a more equitable relationship, like colleagues rather than bosses and employee. Maybe they’d end up actual friends now. Maybe they’d drift apart. He’d never gotten the impression that the only thing Stefan and Paul cared about was the business, but then, there were a number of employees and models who’d come and gone over the years. Most times, no one heard from them again, no matter how close they’d been during filming, how many parties they’d been to together, or how many times they’d had a tongue up his ass or dick in his mouth.
Raven moved his gaze over the other three models in the room. From their attire, or lack thereof, he presumed they were waiting for their parts to come up in the scene. He’d worked with all of them at one point or another. Now he wondered if he had anything in common with them. Would he still get invited to parties and clubs? Despite his youthful appearance, he was almost five years older than Gregor and nearly ten years older than the rest of them. Having sex with someone sure wasn’t the same thing as hanging out socially.
Had he been fooling himself all along? Had he been tolerated as an older man, or had he p
reviously been so immature that he fit right in? He’d turned down several social invitations from a number of models, and now he realized they’d slowed to a mere trickle. Had they given up because they didn’t care or had the last year changed Raven more than physically? He was closer to thirty than twenty; maybe maturing and changing was inevitable.
He’d certainly played recklessly before his accident. Not sexually. He rarely found the need for sexual partners off set, unlike a number of his coworkers and friends. Even on set, he’d been a poster child for condoms, even with the prevalent availability of PrEP to prevent HIV infection. HIV wasn’t the only STD out there. But going out and drinking? Driving home with a slight buzz or the occasional marijuana high? Yeah, that he’d done. Never again, though. Not after a drunk driver had nearly killed him and changed his life irrevocably. Stopping the PrEP had actually been pretty much the only good thing about the accident—he’d ended up with more side effects than most. If he wasn’t having sex, he sure as shit didn’t need those drugs, and they weren’t cheap, either.
Coming to the set to find friends to help him out with his weekend romance event—or maybe test driving the glimmer of a new business—might have been a mistake. So far, he’d only found more doubts building and feeding off the doubts he’d spawned the previous night after his first—pathetic, embarrassing, humbling—attempt at having sex since the accident. These guys had been friends when he’d needed them, but now? Now he didn’t know what to think.
As the action on screen heated up, Beck, one of the uninvolved observers, casually reached over to Tyler and liberated his hard cock. Tyler returned the favor, and they jacked each other slowly, gazes glued to the action. Raven wasn’t a prude and hadn’t suddenly developed inhibitions, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the blatant sexuality, not after his blue balls yesterday and the fact he wasn’t sure he’d ever have that simple freedom for himself. The Idyll Fling studio positively seethed with pheromones, and it was giving him a headache rather than a hard-on.