Rebel_Ballsy Boys 1

by K. M. Neuhold

  He’s a happy, bubbly little twink, and he makes me smile. I’m so glad we’ll be able to help him save face...and have some fun in the process.

  Troy gives him the rundown on both of us, though he omits the “adult” part in my “acting career”. Two minutes later, we walk into a large space, filled with dozens of tables, all with mini-easels set up, holding a black canvas.

  “Byron!” a blonde woman greets our new BFF. She looks like something pink vomited all over her, and the slightly-too-tight hug she gives Byron informs me this must be bitchy Barbra.

  Then she spots us and her face transform into an almost comical look of confusion. “Who are they?”

  Byron steps back and takes both our hands. “Barb, honey, these are my men. This gorgeous specimen is Troy, and this other hunk is Hendrix.”

  I swear, it’s a good thing Barbra’s eyes are firmly attached somehow, because the way they pop, I almost fear we’ll see one rolling over the floor any second now. It’s obvious she did not see this coming.

  “You’re with…” She swallows. “...two guys?”

  Byron sends me an adorable look, then does the same with Troy. “I am.”

  “This little firecracker is too much for one guy,” I say with a sexy smile aimed at Byron. “It’s so nice to meet you, Barbra. Congrats on your upcoming nuptials.”

  She opens and closes her mouth a few times before finally finding her voice again. “Yeah. Thank you. Thanks for coming?”

  The last part comes out a question, and I suppress a smile at how flustered she is. Mission accomplished, two minutes in.

  Byron referred to his cousin’s friends as Barbies, and we soon discover that’s an apt description. Women don’t do much for me anyway, but holy hell, this blatant explosion of all things fake is something else entirely. It’s like the LA version of Jersey Shore, and it ain’t pretty or even entertaining.

  I don’t even bother trying to remember any of their names, because the Candys, Tiffanys, and Heathers all blend in together after five of them. Troy is as amused as I am, and we both keep a close eye on our little twink to make sure no one gives him any shit.

  The instructor gives us a short and sweet inspirational speech about how anyone can paint. She doesn’t mention to what degree of quality, though, so I’m not convinced I’m not gonna suck badly at this.

  The painting she demonstrates to us is some sappy beach scene with rolling waves and a dog playing on the beach. I was hoping for something a little more cultural, but I’ll take it. I’ll be happy if anyone can recognize it’s a beach when mine is done. Bonus points for the dog.

  I gotta say, adding booze to an event like this is a great idea. Absolutely terrific, in fact. There’s a reason they call it liquid courage, and after three glasses of wine, I think my painting is fabulous. Isn’t it, like, the prettiest beach ever?

  Troy grins as he studies my painting with suspiciously clear eyes. “It sure is. Best damn beach I’ve ever seen.”

  I nod with satisfaction. I knew there was a reason I liked him enough to take him home to meet my parents. I frown. Well, not like that. Not exactly. Plus, I can’t say that to Troy because he’ll get all scared and standoffish. I gotta keep it light.

  I reach out and grab his collar, pull him in for a wet kiss. God, he tastes so good. He always does.

  “You’re such a lightweight,” he grins after I break off the kiss. “Three glasses of wine and you’re three sheets into the wind.”

  I nod. “One glass for each sheet,” I say solemnly.

  His smile widens, and he kisses me again.

  “I’m starting to feel left out,” Byron says. We break off the kiss, and he’s watching us with an adorable pout.

  “We can’t have that,” I say. I grab him by his hand and yank him toward me. He’s such a little thing that he falls onto my lap easily, and then my mouth is on him, and I kiss him until we both run out of breath.

  “Mmm,” he says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “You’re such a good kisser.”

  “Better than me?” Troy asks, before lifting Byron off my lap and to his feet, proceeding with devouring his mouth.

  It’s not till I watch them that I start wondering. Was it weird that I kissed Byron? Should I have checked with Troy? We never said we were exclusive, and I’m pretty sure even mentioning that word would send him into a state of panic, but should I have asked anyway? He’s kissing Byron as if he’s starving right now, but is that because he’s jealous or angry with me?

  Oh, dammit, I’ve had too much wine to think. I can’t deny watching him kiss that cutie is hot as fuck, though.

  “You guys need a room?” one of the Barbies calls out. Troy and Byron break off their kiss and laugh. Troy sends him back to his easel with a playful swat on his butt.

  I finish my painting, while making short work of my fourth glass of wine. I think. I may actually be up to five.

  “That doesn’t look half bad.” A female voice startles me. It takes a few seconds for me to push through the alcohol-daze. Barbra.

  “Thank you,” I say, deciding to take it as a compliment.

  “I’m so happy to see Byron so happy with you two,” she says.

  That’s a lot of happy for one sentence, I think, but I decide to go with the flow. “Thank you. He makes me happy. Us. Both.”

  “So the three of you are really together?” she asks, lowering her voice. I blink a few times because she creeps closer to me, and it’s weirding me out. I lean as far back in my chair as I can, but there’s a table behind me, so I can’t go much farther.

  “Erm, yeah?”

  Her manicured, pink-polished hand comes at me, dragging down from my cheek to my… I don’t know where her move ends, somewhere on my chest. I’m pretty sure, even in my somewhat inebriated state, it’s supposed to be sexy, but to me it’s creepy as fuck. Didn’t this woman get the memo that gay means not being interested in women, at least not sexually?

  “How does that even work, with three guys, I mean? How do you keep it...equally satisfactory for all parties involved?”

  She’s kidding, right? She did not just seriously ask me about my sexual activities with her cousin, did she? Oh, she’s gonna get it now.

  “Oh, honey, there’s all kinds of ways. We’ve done a three-way sixty-nine, which is fabulous, but there’s also the classic option of using his hole for one cock, and his mouth for another. Or Troy’s, or mine, ‘cause we’re equal opportunity guys—with other guys, at least.”

  She takes a step back, but I lean forward ‘cause I’m just getting started. “Good heavens, girl, there are all kinds of delicious things we do to each other. Rimming is one of my favorites.”

  Troy steps in, puts a hand on my shoulder. “He’s an expert at it,” he fake-whispers to the bitch. “His tongue in my ass, it’s pure heaven.”

  “Not as good as his cock in my ass, though,” Byron says, parking himself on my lap. He grinds his ass a little, and I let out a happy groan. He’s a little tease, but I don’t mind. Especially not when I see Barbra pale even more.

  I nibble a little on Byron’s ear, for Barbra’s benefit, obviously. “One of these days, we’ll convince our little firecracker here to take both our cocks at the same time.”

  Byron lets out a little moan, and grinds his ass again on my cock. “I can’t wait.”

  Well, neither can I. My cock hasn’t gotten the memo that this is all play, and is ready for action.

  “That’s all...fascinating,” Barbra says, then gives up all pretense and hightails it out of there.

  “Good riddance,” Troy says. “Time to get you to a hotel, Re—Hendrix. You need to sleep it off.”

  I sigh. He’s probably right that it’s best to leave before my inhibitions are completely gone, and I start fucking someone right here, right now. “Can we at least take the firecracker?” I suggest.

  Byron climbs off my lap and kisses me gently. “Any other time, I would’ve happily obliged, but you’re drunk. Ask me again when you’re sober
, okay? I can appreciate a good man-sandwich.”

  I pout, sending Troy a pleading look. “I’m really horny, and I want to fuck something.”

  Troy pulls me up, then slings his arm around me to keep me steady because I’m wavering a little. Maybe it was six glasses of wine?

  “The only thing you’ll be fucking tonight is your own hand, though I doubt you’ll be able to pull that off. Come on, Mr. Lightweight. There’s a Marriott right next to the mall. We’ll get a room there.”

  Byron accompanies us to the hotel, as Troy needs both his hands to keep me steady and can’t carry our art. Troy gets us a room, and ten minutes later, we’re inside the most boring room ever. Troy gently lowers me on the king size bed and proceeds to take off my shoes.

  “Thanks so much, guys. You gave me the best night I’ve had in a long time,” Byron says.

  Troy bends down for a quick kiss, and then Byron walks over to me and kisses me. “You’re a class act, Hendrix. A fucking amateur when it comes to drinking, but a class act. Have fun on your Vegas trip.”

  I’m snoring before he even leaves the room.

  18

  Troy

  Living in LA my entire adult life, you’d think I’d have been to Vegas by now. But it seemed like the type of place to go with a friend, get drunk and crazy, and make memories. Going by myself would’ve been pathetic. I’m a little embarrassed by how wide-eyed I am when we hit the strip.

  “This is insane.” I look around at all the huge buildings and all the people on the streets. “I’ve never been here.”

  “I’m glad we stopped then.” Rebel puts an arm over my shoulder, and we head into the hotel Rebel had the foresight to book ahead of time.

  “Holy shit, this room is amazing. This must’ve cost a fortune.”

  Rebel shrugs and tosses his suitcase down beside the couch. “I make plenty, and I don’t spend much, so I figured I’d splurge a little.”

  I swallow around the lump forming in my throat. There’s no way I can repay Rebel for all this. I’m barely making enough to get by, and the last thing I want to do is be in anyone’s debt. Rebel is watching me carefully like he can tell how much I’m struggling to accept the gesture, waiting to see if I flip out.

  “Guess I’ll have to find some way to pay you back,” I tease, shaking my ass in his direction to lighten the mood.

  Rebel’s shoulders relax, and an easy smile spreads across his lips. “You don’t have to pay me back, but you know I won’t turn down that ass.”

  Rebel gives me a quick smack to my left ass cheek, and I yelp in surprise, straightening up and rubbing the abused flesh.

  He heads over to the window, and I join him to check out the view. Our room overlooks the crowded pool and all the lights of the city. I can even see the Eiffel Tower.

  “So, one night in Vegas, what’s the plan?” I ask, excited to get out and get into some trouble. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be in Sin City with than Rebel. The dude is wild, and I love it.

  “I’m thinking we hit a casino for a bit, because we’re in Vegas, so it’s basically a law we need to lose some money gambling. Then we’ll do dinner and drinks, strip club, and check out the pool later tonight.”

  “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  “I didn’t either,” Rebel says with a wink. “Now I’m going to hop in a cold shower real quick, because I’m already melting in this heat and then we can get this night started. You coming?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  I strip down where I’m standing and follow Rebel into the bathroom. After the hottest cold shower of my life, we both get dressed in fresh clothes and head out onto the strip again.

  The casino downstairs is exactly what I would’ve pictured if you’d asked me to imagine what a Las Vegas casino looks like. It’s bright with all kinds of flashing lights and chiming machines. There are waitresses in short skirts and little black vests over white shirts, offering complimentary drinks to keep people playing and always putting money into the machines.

  “What’s your game?” Rebel asks.

  “Uh, not a clue. Blackjack maybe?”

  “All right, let’s give it a shot.”

  It turns out Blackjack is not my game. I lose a hundred dollars before I decide to try slot machines instead, where I lose even more money. I cringe inwardly knowing how much time and effort it took to make that money.

  “Okay, I’m calling it. Apparently, I’m unlucky, and now I’m a few hundred dollars poorer. I say we move on to the dinner and drinks portion of the evening.”

  “I’m good with that. I could use a big slab of meat and a stiff drink,” Rebel agrees.

  “If you wanted something stiff, all you had to do was ask,” I tease, leaning over and flicking my tongue along the shell of his ear. To my satisfaction, Rebel shivers and lets out a quiet groan.

  “I never thought I’d meet a man who could match my sexual appetite, but damn dude, you are one horny fucker.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I chuckle.

  “Good, that’s how it was intended.” Rebel slings an arm over my shoulder and guides me outside.

  I blink a few times, surprised to find that the sun has already set. People are right when they say time passes differently inside a casino. I feel like I’ve stepped into another dimension. And if the strip was something to see in the daylight, it’s unbelievable at night, all lit up.

  As we walk down the street, Rebel tells me about the porn convention he and the guys were at last year in Vegas and all the trouble Brewer managed to get into.

  “Wait, he didn’t know the guy was a prostitute?” I laugh at the end of the story.

  “No, he gets propositioned everywhere he goes. He had no reason to think this guy was working him. Oh my god, Tank has never let him live that one down.”

  “What kinds of shenanigans did you get into?” I ask, bumping my shoulder against Rebel’s.

  “None, actually. With the guys and at the studio, I sort of feel like I’m supposed to set an example, be a role model, I guess. I think it’s because I’ve been with Bear and Ballsy Boys since the beginning, so it sort of feels like it’s my baby as much as it’s Bear’s. So, I’ve been to Vegas, but I’ve never really let loose, because I had to make sure I was being a good boy.”

  “Sounds like we have to make up for that tonight. Drinks and then debauchery,” I declare. “Who knows, maybe we’ll even get a prostitute.”

  “No, thanks,” Rebel laughs. “I’m perfectly happy with this ass at the moment.”

  He grabs my ass, and I tense for a second. Not because I have a problem with PDA or anything, but because that sounded kind of exclusive and couple-y.

  “Why wouldn’t you be, it’s a fantastic ass,” I joke to hide my discomfort.

  Luckily, we reach the restaurant before I can reach epic levels of awkward avoidance.

  “Tell me more about the degree you’re working on. It’s video game design, right?”

  “Yeah,” I clear my throat and reach for my glass of water as we wait for the steaks we just ordered. “Some people think it’s kind of a pipe dream, because it’s not an easy industry to get into. I mean, every other frat boy thinks he wants to play video games for a living, right?”

  “But, you’re not every other frat boy,” Rebel points out. “What appeals to you about it?”

  “I guess it’s the challenge of combining the technical aspects of coding with the creativity of telling a story through images, character development, level design, and so on. It’s very complex, but it also seems so rewarding to have this story in your head that you want to tell, and be able to turn that into something millions of people can experience. I know that probably seems weird…”

  “Not at all, I think that’s amazing. I know it’s not exactly the same thing, but it’s similar with porn, the behind the camera aspect anyway. Bear has let me do some work with him from that end of things, and having this idea and being able to see it come to life, it’s really surreal.”<
br />
  “Yeah, exactly,” I agree.

  Rebel smiles at me, and I feel a warm flutter in my chest. It’s like he really gets me. I’ve never had that before. If I’d known it would feel this good to have a friend, maybe I would’ve tried it a long time ago.

  I have the strange urge to lean across the table and kiss him just for the hell of it, but luckily, that insane notion is interrupted when the waitress drops off our drinks—a Jack and Coke for Rebel, and a Seven and Seven for me—and a basket of bread.

  A handful of drinks and a giant slab of meat each later, and we’re both feeling a bit giggly and a lot ready to hit the strip club. Yet another thing I’ve never done before, because it felt too pathetic to do alone. If you go to a strip club with friends, you’re having fun. If you go by yourself, you’re a creep with your hand in your sweatpants.

  “Hunk Mansion?” I laugh at the name of the strip club when we reach it.

  “Yes, and there will be hunks galore, I assure you.”

  “Good, I need to see some naked men.”

  Rebel smacks my ass again, and I nearly fall over laughing. How crazy is it that the porn star I was crushing on from afar just a few months ago is now the best friend I’ve ever had? I feel like it shouldn’t be this easy to let go and have fun with him, but he’s just as crazy as I am, so there’s no judgment. It’s so...freeing.

  Inside Hunk Mansion we grab seats near one of the stages with a good view of a cute little twink working the pole. And it only takes a minute for a buff waiter—wearing nothing but a pair of shiny underwear and a healthy dose of oil glistening on his muscles—to come over and take our drink order.

  “Are you two going to get your fine asses up there in half an hour when amateur night starts?” the waiter asks Rebel and me with a flirtatious smile for each of us.

  “What?” I ask with surprise.

  “Amateur night,” he says again. “You just sign up at the bar, and then you get a chance to get up there and shake your money maker for some cash.”