Contains graphic sex scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
“Fuck, yeah,” the twink muttered as he pushed himself back on his hands and knees, almost knocking Ryan off balance. Ryan grunted and squeezed the boy’s hips to keep them in the rhythm, and then he slapped the bare butt cheek to keep the boy in line.
Ryan leaned back to let the camera get a good shot of his cock disappearing into the stretched asshole of the boy bent over before him. A few more strokes like this and they’d get to switch positions. Good thing, Ryan’s knees were starting to burn from the coarse carpet.
Ryan slapped the boy’s ass again and pulled out slowly to make sure his condom stayed on. He manhandled the boy until they were flipped, Ryan on his back and the boy straddling him—time to let the new kid do the work.
Ryan lay there, head cradled in his hands, watching the boy bounce up and down on his cock, and he couldn’t help but smirk. The kid was overdoing it—too much high-pitched moaning, too many “fuck, yeahs,” and an unconvincing sultry eye. If he kept this up, Ryan was going to lose his erection and the movie would end up a lot shorter than any of them had anticipated.
The boy continued to bounce, but Ryan got bored of just lying there. He reached out and grabbed the twink by the hips and pulled hard, driving his cock as deep into the boy as it could go. It had the desired effect; the boy let out a big whoosh as the air rushed out of his lungs, his eyes bulged, and his hands grasped at Ryan to keep from falling over. That’s right, Ryan thought, let’s hear your “fuck, yeahs” now.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw the director shake his head, but Ryan didn’t care. After three years of this, Ryan considered himself a veteran of the gay porn industry, and he realized he had less and less patience for the newbies with their overacting.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Gary, the director said. “Let’s get this over with. Bryce, on your back with your knees pulled up. Roman, time to spill your load. We’ll get the close-up shot from over here.”
Roman. That was Ryan’s stage name. Roman Cox, to be exact. Sexier than Ryan Cote, and safer than using his real name.
Ryan pulled off the condom and started rubbing one out. This was always the hardest part, getting aroused enough to actually cum. When he started doing porn, actually having sex was enough, so that a couple of tugs were all he needed to cum. After a while, he had to fantasize about something or someone to get there. Now, it was almost like meditating.
Ryan emptied his mind, blocked out the lights and the hovering camera, the annoying boy lying naked before him, and concentrated on the feeling of his hands gliding over the sensitive skin of his cock. He twisted his grip when he got to the tip and swiped his thumb across the piss slit. His other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging to get the juices flowing, and a couple of fingers slipped back to rub against his perineum.
A few moments like this and he felt his balls tighten. He grasped onto the sensation and chased it until he felt the rush of falling over the edge. One shot, two shots, three shots, and he was done. Bent over and breathing heavily, his mind still a blank white as he slowly found his way back to the present.
When he finally blinked away the rush, the boy was rubbing Ryan’s cum over his stomach. It was supposed to be a sexy move, but the way the boy bit his lip and peeked out from under his lashes almost made Ryan laugh. He gave the boy a quick slap on the ass to tell him to get going.
The boy got the message and quickly stroked himself to completion while Ryan watched with disinterest. When it was all over, Ryan leaned over and gave the boy a quick courtesy peck on the lips.
“Cut! Good job, guys,” Gary shouted.
Ryan grabbed the robe lying on a nearby chair. “We’re done for the day?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re good. Hey, you got a minute to chat?”
Ryan glanced at the wall clock—four o’clock. He had just enough time to run home, shower, and get to the bar to set up for his evening shift.
“Not really, is it urgent?”
“Naw, don’t worry about it. We’ll catch up later.”
“Cool. See ya.”
“Hey, Ryan,” Amanda shouted as she brushed past him. “You’ve got another admirer.” She nodded toward the end of the bar.
Ryan gave her a crooked smile. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, honey.”
Amanda rolled her eyes and grabbed a couple of beers out of the ice.
Ryan turned back to the drinks he was making and ignored whoever the admirer was at the end of the bar. There tended to be at least one person every few days, but Ryan was never interested, so he never paid them any real attention.
Amanda and the other bar staff had bugged him about his attitude numerous times. Whenever they brought it up, he’d just shrug it off with a smile. For a while, they were making up stories for why Ryan never hooked up with a customer or never talked about seeing anyone.
They started innocently enough—Ryan was gay and the admirers were all girls; Ryan grinned and shrugged. Then he got some male admirers, and he still didn’t react—so maybe he wasn’t gay but just picky; Ryan grinned and shrugged. For a while they were convinced Ryan was the submissive one in some kinky, master-and-slave relationship; Ryan grinned and shrugged.
They finally decided that Ryan was non-sexual; Ryan grinned and shrugged but figured they weren’t far from the truth. It wasn’t that he was non-sexual; he just had never met anyone that piqued his interest. And he was getting off enough with his porn job that his physical needs were being taken care of just fine.
Ryan was a loner, and he was content to stay that way.
Ryan forgot about his admirer as the evening went on. It was Friday, and the bar was packed with people wanting to have a good time. His tip jar was seeing a good amount of action. It wasn’t until he made his way to the end of the bar in search of his next order that he remembered that someone had been admiring him.
The guy had very dark hair and very light eyes—with the lighting it was impossible to tell what colors exactly. And he was staring at Ryan unabashedly from his perch on the barstool.
One glance and Ryan knew that he knew. It wasn’t the first time a customer had recognized Ryan from one of his porn videos. He’d respond the way he responded to everything: a grin and a shrug. But this guy wasn’t just staring at Ryan; he was examining him. The only other time Ryan had been examined that way was during auditions.
Then it dawned on Ryan; there was more than the guy just knowing he was in the industry. A second glance confirmed his suspicion.
The guy had broad shoulders and tightly defined muscles under a snug-fitting t-shirt. The lips were full, slightly pouty. Wisps of a tattoo snaking across his left arm peeked out from under his sleeve.
Eight inches, thick, was Ryan’s guess. He was definitely part of the industry.
“Need a refill?” Ryan asked as he gestured to the nearly empty pint glass in front of the stranger.
“Sure,” came the answer—no hesitation, not even a glance down at his glass.
Ryan gave him a crooked smile and took the empty glass.
When he returned, the stranger said the last thing Ryan expected him to.
“I’ve never seen you smile like that.”
Ryan paused, his smile coming a moment too late and lacking its usual confidence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I’m sure you do.”
Ryan forced himself to hold his smile. “You’ve got a tab running?”
The man nodded, and Ryan turned away before the conversation could continue.
The man ended up staying all evening, but Ryan made sure to let Amanda serve him whenever his beer was running low. Amanda responded by elbowing Ryan every time they passed each other behind the bar.
Ryan wasn’t ashamed of his work as a porn actor; he wasn’t afraid of people at the bar finding out. He just never felt the need to talk about it, just like he never felt like talking about any other part of his life. In any other situation, having someone from the industry show up at the bar wouldn’t really bother Ryan. As long as they minded their own business, he’d mind his own, too. But this guy looked like he was all up in Ryan’s business. And Ryan didn’t like it one bit.
Just as the full house lights came on and the bouncers started rounding everyone up and out, Amanda sidled up to Ryan and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Remember I’m taking off early tonight? You said you’d be okay cleaning up.”
Ryan groaned. He’d forgotten that he’d agreed to this. “Yeah, yeah, you go run off with your guy and leave me with all the hard work.”
Amanda smiled. “You’re the best!”
Ryan shook his head and started piling things in the dishwasher, wiping down the counter and putting bottles back in their places.
“Hey, Ryan, that guy there says he knows you. You okay with him waiting inside?” Steve, the bouncer, pointed to the stranger with the black hair and startlingly blue eyes; they were clear as day with the full lights on.
Ryan hesitated. If it were any other person, he’d have no interest in talking to him. But this guy wasn’t just any other person, and Ryan’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks, Steve.”
The stranger didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, so Ryan let him wait. Only when everything was cleaned and ready for the next day did Ryan turn to him. He was leaning against the bar, leather jacket snug across his shoulders, hands in his jeans pockets, stretching the material over an impressive bulge. Yup, definitely eight inches and thick.
“So…” Ryan started.
“I’m Erik Fischer.” He held out a hand for shaking.
Ryan gave it a perfunctory shake. “Nice to meet you,” but he didn’t offer his own name.
The omission didn’t go unnoticed. Erik smiled, and his eyes sparkled.
“I’m not stalking you, I swear,” Erik said. “I just happened to pop in for a drink and recognized you. I’ve seen a lot of your work.”
Ryan didn’t give a response.
“Anyways, I’m working with Gary on a new project. We’re looking for someone, and I think you have the right look. So when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t quite believe it…”
Ryan frowned and glanced over at Steve waiting to lock up for the night.
“Sorry. Uh… look, I didn’t mean to intrude on your evening.” Erik gave a small self-deprecating chuckle, a dimple appearing in the middle of his left cheek. “I’ll just talk to Gary about it and have him follow up with you. Um, it was nice meeting you. Have a good night.”
“You, too,” Ryan said under his breath. He watched Erik walk to the door, and just as Steve opened it, Erik turned back. There was a sparkle in his eye, and Ryan wondered why he noticed.
It was a week later when Ryan found himself in Gary’s office. Gary wouldn’t say over the phone what the meeting was about, so Ryan figured it had to do with the black-haired, blue-eyed man who kept drifting into his thoughts unbeckoned.
“Hey, Roman!” Gary always seemed a little overenthusiastic to Ryan. Like he was trying to sell something that most people didn’t want to buy. Or like he was trying to lend legitimacy to his career in porn.
“Hey, Gary.” Ryan looked up from his phone as Gary came into his office.
“So you met Everett, huh?”
“Oh, I guess he used his real name? Erik?”
“You never told me you work at a bar.”
“Right. Erik mentioned this new project we’re working on?”
“You’ve never been big on words, have ya?”
Gary chuckled to himself. “Well, this project. I have to tell ya, it sure is different from the stuff you normally do.”
“I’m all ears,” Ryan deadpanned.
Gary laughed. “You’re a funny one, you are. Listen, I thought I’d have Erik explain it to you, seeing as it was his idea to begin with. But I’ll just say this much: it’s supposed to be a cross between a romantic comedy and a porn movie. Still lots of fucking but with a bit more character.”
Ryan’s skepticism must have shown on his face because Gary laughed again.
“I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But I think there’s something there. Anyway, Erik’s supposed to pop by. You free to go to lunch? I figured we could chat about it.”
Ryan was just about to object when Erik knocked on the door.
“Erik! Just in the nick of time. We were just talking about you and going to lunch.” Gary nearly jumped from his chair and came around his desk to shake Erik’s hand.
Ryan braced himself before turning around to face the door. He wasn’t sure why he did that but was glad his body had the foresight. Erik in the brightly lit office was nothing short of beautiful. Objectively beautiful. And if Ryan hadn’t taken a big breath seconds before, he was sure he’d be faint from lack of air.
Erik’s clear blue eyes were trained on him, framed by long black lashes, daring him to decline lunch. It wasn’t in Ryan’s nature to rise to the bait, but he wasn’t sure Gary was going to give him much of a choice.
“Come on, boys.” Gary waved his hands, shooing them out the door. “I know a good place for lunch.”
Ryan sighed. Nope, definitely no choice.
The restaurant wasn’t far from Gary’s office, and as they walked, Gary kept up a running commentary on sales figures for the quarter. Ryan was only half-listening. His other half was busy not staring at the way Erik’s jeans hugged his ass and the way the muscles shifted back and forth as they continued down the sidewalk.
He tried watching the cars that zipped past them on the street or counting the number of trees planted in the grassy strip next to the sidewalk. But his eyes kept finding their way back to Erik’s ass, wrapped in tight jeans, shifting left, right, left, right.
Ryan licked his suddenly parched lips and resisted the urge to reach down and adjust himself. This was not the way he should be reacting to an attractive man; a porn professional should have better control over his dick. Ryan wasn’t sure what was different about this particular man or this particular meeting that had him reacting this way.
Gary led them to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that looked exactly like where three porn professionals would gather to have a lunch meeting. The signage outside was decorated with graffiti, the windows were reinforced with iron bars, and the dinky little bell rang when they pushed open the door. Inside wasn’t much better.
It was dark and empty, and instead of waiting for someone to show up, Gary headed straight to a booth at the back. He slid into one side, Erik slid into the other, and Ryan was left standing, trying to decide which side he wanted to sit on. It was a tough decision. Side with Gary and stare at Erik the entire time? Or side with Erik and risk being too close to him?
“Come on, grab a seat.” Gary’s voice boomed loud in the empty restaurant. He gestured to the empty space across from him and next to Erik; again, Ryan guessed he didn’t have much choice.
He maneuvered himself carefully in the seat, conscious that Erik’s body was only inches from his own. He felt heat radiating off the other man as they shared the small space between the padded bench and the table, and Ryan hated that he noticed.
“So, does anyone actually work here?” Erik asked, amusement coloring his voice.
Rather than respond, Gary shouted toward the kitchen door, “Louie!”
Ryan risked a quick glance at Erik to see if he thought this was sketchy as hell, too. He found those clear blue eyes staring right at him, as if they’d been studying him the entire time. Unnerving.
“Gary? That you?” came a voice from the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s me. Who else would it be?”
“What can I do you for?” the voice belonging to Louie materialized into a tall, skinny man with a sauce-stained apron and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“Aw, Louie, come on. Restaurants are supposed to be smoke-free these days,” Gary complained.
“Yeah, yeah, and who’s gonna tell on me?” Louie stood beside their table with his hands on his hips. “So, uh, these your colleagues?” He said that last word with emphasis.
“Yeah, they’re my colleagues.” Gary sounded almost proud. “So bring out your best today, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Gary.” Louie smirked at them and turned back to his kitchen.
“Uh, should I be worried?” Erik asked.
“Naw, nothing to worry about. Louie’s a great cook. You’ll see.”
“So we don’t get to order?” Erik sounded as incredulous as Ryan felt.
“No point; he doesn’t really have a menu. Just makes whatever he feels like. But like I said, no need to worry.”
Gary clapped his hands together and rubbed them back and forth. His grin made him look like some evil sorcerer about to unleash a wicked spell. Ryan didn’t like the look of it.
“Erik, tell… Roman?” Gary cast a questioning look at Ryan, who shrugged in response.
“Tell… Ryan about your idea.”
Ryan felt those clear blues on him again but refused to meet their gaze. Instead, he suddenly found the cheap Formica tabletop to be extraordinarily fascinating.
“Well, Ryan. Studies show that an increasing percentage of gay porn viewers happen to be straight women, except that women actually prefer slightly different content than the typical gay male viewer. Women tend to like stuff that’s a little softer, more intimate, with more personal interaction, almost as if the people involved were actual lovers rather than just having random sex. They also like a little back story, something to create a context for why these two people are having sex. More like a romance story with some really hot sex.”
“Like a gay Harlequin romance,” Ryan offered.
“Exactly. That’s exactly right. So we’re in the initial stages of developing a script, and we’re looking for one of the male leads.”
“That’s where you come in,” Gary continued. “Erik saw a whole bunch of your work and thought you’d be a good fit.”
Ryan couldn’t help his smirk. “What gave you that idea? This sounds like a job for an actor. I’m not an actor; I just fuck in front of a camera.”
A sound resembling a bubbling brook emanated from Erik’s proximity, and Ryan looked over only to realize that Erik was chuckling.
“See? I told ya he was funny,” said Gary.
“Yeah, you did.” Erik stopped chuckling and leaned an inch closer to Ryan. “I think you’re more of an actor than you realize.”
He was very close now, and Ryan could smell the cologne wafting off of Erik’s body. It smelled musky but clean, and Ryan had an inexplicable urge to follow his nose to the source of the smell.
A knowing smile spread across Erik’s face. That dimple flashed on his left cheek, and he leaned another inch closer.
“It’s your eyes.” Erik’s voice was low and rumbling. “They give it all away. Everything you’re feeling and thinking is reflected in your eyes. You don’t have to say a word and the audience knows exactly what’s going on just by looking at your eyes.”
Erik’s clear blue eyes bore into Ryan’s, studying him, probing at Ryan’s carefully constructed wall to peek at what was underneath. Erik’s examination was invasive but enthralling, and Ryan couldn’t look away.
“Alright, here’s your food.” Louie came crashing through the kitchen door, the noise loud enough to rouse Ryan from Erik’s hypnotism.
He dropped a giant plate of steaming pasta in the middle of the table. “What we’ve got here is ravioli with veal, prosciutto, and mozzarella with fresh tomato- and- parmesan sauce.”
“Homemade ravioli?” Gary asked.
The look of disgust on Louie’s face said it all.
“Of course, it is; sorry I asked.” Gary raised his hands in surrender.
“I’ll be back with the caprese salad.” Louie turned back to the kitchen.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” said Erik.
“See? Told ya.” Gary piled a steaming heap of pasta onto his own plate and dug in without waiting.
Ryan let Erik grab a portion before helping himself. The food smelled great—the part of his brain that appreciated good food was able to acknowledge that fact—but the rest of his brain was still a little fuzzy from Erik’s mind probe.
Louie came back out with the salad and a carafe of red wine. For a few moments, none of them said anything and just enjoyed the unexpectedly good food in silence.
“So, Ryan,” Gary started again, much to Ryan’s dismay, “what do you think? You up for it?”
Ryan wasn’t sure that he was. He liked doing porn because he could fuck and get paid for it. It was generally mindless. But what they were proposing was not mindless fucking; it was mindful fucking, which Ryan wasn’t sure he could or wanted to do.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Well, let me tell you the story we’re working on?” Erik offered.
“Two guys, obviously. One is a stripper at a gay nightclub working from paycheck to paycheck, just worried about staying afloat and nothing much else. The other is working on a PhD, studying the social-something-or-other about the gay clubbing scene. The PhD student goes to gay nightclubs for research and strikes up a friendship with the stripper…”
It’s just a coincidence, it had to be; there was no way Erik could know.
Ryan put his fork down and leaned back in his booth as far as the cushions would allow him. He didn’t want to listen to this anymore, didn’t want to relive a past life.
“Ryan? You okay?” Gary’s voice sounded distant.
Ryan couldn’t meet Gary’s concerned look. He heard himself mumble something to the effect of “sorry, not interested” and suddenly found himself out on the sidewalk, squinting under the bright afternoon sun.
No, he was definitely not interested.
The full story has already been written. Ten chapters in all. I'm planning on posting a new chapter once a week. Thanks for reading!