“Should we be doing this in your childhood bedroom?”
“You think I never fooled around in here? I got plenty of action in high school, babe.”
I chuckle, trying to imagine a younger version of Rebel back when he really was only Hendrix. “Oh yeah? So you weren’t all pimply and dorky?” I tease, walking him backward toward the bed.
“Pssh, no way, I was a total stud. What about you?” Rebel pulls me down so I’m straddling him on his narrow bed.
“I was a shy loner, but I was secretly hooking up with a few jocks,” I brag.
“That sounds kinda hot.” Rebel tugs up my shirt and runs his fingers along the ridges of my abs. “Wanna play?”
“Hendrix, your parents are right downstairs. What if they hear us?” I feign a protest as I unbutton his pants.
“I guess we’ll have to be quiet.” Rebel works on my pants as well, at the same time kissing and nipping at my throat. “I’ve seen you checking me out in the locker room after gym. But no one at school can know, can you keep a secret?”
“I’m very good at keeping secrets. In fact, I’d say it’s my second-best skill, right after my oral skills.”
“Is it true what they say? Are guys really better at giving head?”
“I’ll show you, and you can decide for yourself.”
“Boys, sorry to interrupt, but we’re going to cut the cake, and your sister wanted to give a speech,” Rebel’s mom calls through the door.
He winces, and I stifle a laugh. “We’ll be right there,” he calls back. “I guess this will have to wait until later,” he adds to me in a much quieter voice.
“Mmm, looking forward to it.”
I zip Rebel’s pants back up—which is a much more depressing direction—and climb off him.
I hold my hand out to Rebel to help him up, which he takes, but he doesn’t drop the touch immediately. A small tingle of awareness at the pleasure of the innocent contact runs up my spine. I yank my hand back quickly, and Rebel gives me an apologetic smile.
“Glad you boys could join us,” Rebel’s mom says with a knowing smile when we make it back to the living room, where everyone is congregated waiting for speeches and cake.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
Marley stands with a champagne glass in her hands and faces the full room of people.
“Thank you all for coming today to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. I want to say a few words about my parents before we cut the cake. Growing up, I thought my parents were extremely weird. Instead of McDonalds and Mac and Cheese, we were getting kale burgers. Instead of family vacations to Disney World, we were going on meditation retreats. But in spite of all the weirdness, I always knew we had something special. I could and still can see the love pour from both of you whenever you look at each other. In most things, I’ve wanted a different life than you two built together, but in love, you are my absolute role models.
“Maybe you didn’t know that Hendrix and I could always see the little things you did to show your love, but every single thing imprinted on me, and I think it did on Hendrix as well. Because love isn’t about grand gestures and being perfect, it’s about leaving the last of the organic orange juice because you know your wife will want some when she wakes up, or leaving each other notes with dirty pictures drawn on them, or holding your wife’s hand when she hears that she has breast cancer and then standing by her every day of her recovery. You two are the embodiment of love, and I’m so blessed to have learned how to love from you.”
Hendrix’s hand flexes against mine, and I realize we’re holding hands again, and I’m not sure how or when that happened. His gaze is fixed on his sister, and there’s a slightly glassy look to his eyes.
He looks over at me like he can feel my gaze on him and gives me a lopsided smile. My gut clenches in a mixture of fear and... I’m not actually sure what the other emotion is exactly. All I know is it feels warm, makes me want to be as close to Hendrix as humanly possible, and intensifies the fear tenfold.
Marley’s speech comes to an end, and I blink myself back into reality. I tug my hand out of Hendrix’s and clap along with the rest of the group, just so it looks like I had an excuse to pull away.
My heart pounds in my ears. I need to get a grip. I’m getting too close to the edge, and I need to correct course. And there’s only one way I know how to do that.
“When can we head back to the hotel?” I whisper, letting the suggestion drip into my tone.
“Cake and then we’ll leave.”
* * *
“Strip and bend over the bed,” I growl against Rebel’s lips as we kiss and lick at each other’s mouths.
I swallow Rebel’s groan of approval. He pulls back to comply, but I stop him with a firm palm on his left ass cheek.
“I can’t wait to have this tight ass.”
“Me too, baby. You have no idea.”
I take a step back and strip my shirt over my head, keeping my eyes on Rebel as he scrambles out of his own clothes.
I can’t get used to how perfect he looks. I mean, duh, he’s a porn star, so of course he’s completely hung. But, perfect cock aside, his body is everything I’d picture if you asked me to describe my ideal man. He’s in shape but is devoid of bulging muscles. The dusting of blond hair on his chest and down his stomach feels incredible against my own naked body, and I need to feel him again right the fuck now.
I don’t pay any attention to where my clothes fall as I strip out of them. And Rebel seems to feel the same way as he tosses his pants on the floor and sends his underwear flying over his shoulder.
He wastes no time bending over the bed, bracing his hands against the mattress and arching his back.
I wrap my hand around my cock and give it a few lazy strokes, gathering the leaking pre-cum on my thumb. I lick my lips as I step up behind Rebel, unable to tear my eyes away from his round, powerful ass. I know exactly what he looks like when it’s flexing with each powerful thrust. And I know what he looks like spread and taking it. But, I don’t know what he feels like hot and tight around my cock, and I can’t wait to find out.
I spread his cheeks with one hand and lift my slicked thumb to his tight pucker. He spreads his legs a little wider and leans farther forward.
Rebel’s asshole easily softens under the small circles I make with my thumb. The small amount of pre-cum I used dries quickly, so I spit into his ass crack and spread it with my fingers. Rebel groans at my touch.
“God, you’re fucking filthy; I love it,” he grunts as I use the new moisture to work two fingers inside.
“I know you do.”
I lean over and run my tongue along Rebel’s spine as I fuck him open with my fingers. His hands clutch fistfuls of the bedsheets, and his breath is coming out in heavy pants.
“You’re sexy as fuck.” I nibble at the back of his neck, and he whimpers. “Are you ready for my cock?”
“Fuck, yes.”
I pull my fingers out and reach for my bag to grab my condoms and lube. Spit may be enough for finger fucking, but I’m not going to try to shove my cock into him without any lube. I suit up and then squeeze a generous amount into my hand and cover my cock with it. I spread what’s left around his hole and wipe my hand on the edge of the bedsheet.
Rebel groans as I line up and slowly press inside. There’s little resistance as he relaxes expertly to take me. His smooth inner muscles grip my cock and suck me into his hot channel.
My fingers dig into his hips, hard enough to leave bruises. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and straight to my balls as I imagine thousands of viewers watching a video featuring Rebel and noticing finger shaped purple smudges on his waist and thighs, wondering where Rebel got them. I can picture watching the video myself and trying to hold back from coming too quickly, remembering this moment, pounding into him from behind as he wails and begs for me to give it to him harder.
I lean over him and suck his neck, desperate to leave marks all over him as my hips snap forward and d
rag back over and over again.
“Troy, ungh, fuck,” Rebel rambles random combinations of words and pleas while meeting every one of my thrusts. “Harder, rougher, please.”
I wrap my hand around his throat from behind, not obstructing his airway, but just hard enough to feel the rumble of each word and gasp escaping his lips. And then I fuck him harder, until he collapses forward onto the bed. I follow, falling on top of him but doing my best not to miss a beat.
“So good, Hendrix, you feel so fucking good.” I don’t realize my slip up until the words are out, but it doesn’t seem to give Rebel any pause as he cries out, humping against the bed as I hit that spongy pleasure spot inside him.
His ass clenches so hard around me that my vision blurs around the edges for a second as I lose my breath. I grab onto his firm, chiseled ass cheeks for leverage and thrust deep, emptying myself with a deep moan. When my legs are shaking too badly to hold me up any longer, I collapse on top of Rebel, who seems just as drained as I am.
“Holy fuck, you are a goddamn god,” Rebel mumbles in a tired, sated tone.
Pride swells in my chest, along with another emotion I can’t name. I roll off of Rebel so I can lay beside him without crushing him.
“Well, look at the tools I had to work with,” I point out, giving his ass a resounding smack.
25
Rebel
I wait till Bear is done thanking Brewer and Pixie for their stellar performance in the shoot. The colorful tats on Brewer’s arms shimmer with the sweat he worked up while fucking Pixie into the mattress. The little imp took it like a champ, though. That lithe body of his was made to be fucked, rude as it may sound. And he’s still so fucking eager. This is gonna be a popular one, I can tell.
We already had hundreds of requests to see more of Pixie—quite a few demanding Tank have a go at him. I can see why, the difference in their personalities and body types makes for an interesting contrast. Besides, Tank is such an obvious top and Pixie such a total bottom that it fulfills that stereotype as well. So far, Bear has been reluctant to book those two together, though.
Brewer had a great time, I can tell. He hugs Pixie, then slaps him playfully on his ass before walking over to the locker room to take a shower and get dressed. It’s funny, but as soon as he’s gone, Pixie transforms back into the shy guy he was when I first met him. He looks at Bear from between his lashes, wringing his hands. It’s almost as if he has to fight the urge to cover himself up, which makes no sense because we all just watched him get ravished.
He gives Bear an awkward wave as he all but runs to the locker rooms, and Bear keeps staring at him until he’s out of sight, a frown on his face.
“Something wrong?” I ask, stepping closer.
Bear jerks as if I shock him, then turns his head my way. “I don’t know.” He looks back at the locker rooms, then at me. “Do you think Pixie likes it?”
“Working for us? For Ballsy Boys, I mean,” I quickly say to cover my mistake. “I think so. He loves to be fucked, that much is clear.”
“Yeah,” Bear says, his eyes once again trailing toward the locker rooms. “Every time I try to make small talk, he clams up.”
“He’s shy,” I offer. “And I don’t think he’s fully used to being naked around us yet.”
Bear seems to give himself a mental shake. “Anyway, you said you wanted to talk to me. What’s up, kiddo?”
I gesture toward his office. “Can we talk in private?”
Bear frowns. “I’m not gonna like this conversation, am I?”
My stomach rolls as I follow him into his office. What if he doesn’t think I’m good enough for this?
Bear signals me to sit down, and I plop down on one of the chairs before I realize it. Most of the time, the guy is pretty laid back, but he’s got this dominant edge that pops up every now and then that makes you want to obey.
“Talk to me, Rebel,” he says, his tone serious, but kind.
“I wanna quit,” I blurt out, starting in the exact wrong way. “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant.” I sigh, frustrated with myself for fucking this up, even though I’d rehearsed exactly what I wanted to say. Bear is still patiently waiting for me to get my brain into the right gear. “I love working for you, for Ballsy Boys. I’m proud of what we do here. At the same time, I think it’s time for me to move on. I was hoping you would be interested in taking me on as an assistant. Full time. Or at least, enough hours so I could stop doing shoots.”
Bear’s face breaks open in a smile. “That’s it? Fucking hell, Rebel, I thought you were gonna tell me you were moving on to another studio. That would’ve broken my fucking heart.”
“I would never do that. This is my… I love working here, Bear. You know that. These guys, they’re my friends. Family, more like. I don’t wanna leave, but I…” I sigh. “I met someone. He’s… He’s special to me, and I need to put that first.”
“Did he ask you to?” Bear asks.
I shake my head. “No. We didn’t even discuss it. He knows what I do, obviously, but he never asked me to quit. But I want to.”
Bear’s smile is much softer now, almost fatherly. “You’re in love.”
My heart skips a beat. Am I? It’s all so fucking confusing and complicated, not the least of which is I know Troy won’t wanna hear it. If I even mention the word “love” he’ll either freak out completely or run for the hills. Or maybe both. I sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is, kiddo. That’s why there are millions of songs about it and countless books and movies. Love is complicated.”
Before I know it, I ask him. “Have you ever been in love?”
Bear’s eyes sadden. “Once. He…” I watch him swallow, his eyes saddening even more. “He got sick and passed away. But that was years ago.”
“Would you do it again, knowing what you know now?” It’s an awfully personal question, but Bear doesn’t seem to mind.
“Honestly, I don’t know. For myself, probably. I loved him with all my heart, and I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on our time together, brief as it was. But I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, to have to watch someone you love slowly die. It’s the most horrific, helpless feeling, because all you can do is watch.”
We sit there for a few beats, but the silence is strangely comforting. “Do you think there’s a spot for me as your assistant?” I finally switch back to the topic I wanted to talk to him about in the first place. “Or do you think I’m not ready? Or lack the talent?”
I hate that I sound so hesitant and insecure, but I need him to be honest. If I have no business even attempting this, I need him to tell me straight to my face. I mean, it’ll break my fucking heart, but at least I’ll know.
He gently shakes his head. “Rebel, you already are my right hand. You’ve barely done any shoots these last months, except with new guys, and the one with Heart. Truth is, I should have talked to you about transitioning into a more formal role as assistant creative director, but I’ve just been too busy. We’re growing like crazy, and I more than need you full time.”
Something warm opens in my heart, and I have to swallow. “You think I have the talent to do this?”
“You’ve got more talent for it than I do. Seriously. I may be better at the business end and the technical details, for now at least, but you have great vision and creativity. Did you see how many hits we got on that video with Campy, Heart, and Tank? It blew up, man, and that was all you. I love that you wanna come on board for this full time. Consider yourself hired.”
My face lights up, and I’m probably beaming like a Christmas tree. “Really?”
Bear leans in and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Kiddo, it’s not charity. I’m not hiring you out of the goodness of my heart or something. My biggest fear these last months has been that you’d get snatched up by a rival company.”
My mouth drops slightly agape. “But… Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
He squeezes my shoulder before he lets go and lean
s back in his chair. “Part of it was because I was too busy and didn’t make the time. But part of it was also because I didn’t want you to feel beholden to me. If I had asked you, you might have said yes out of obligation, and I wanted you to choose this out of passion, because it was what you truly wanted.”
Why are my eyes getting watery all of a sudden? “This is what I want. I love Ballsy Boys, and I want nothing more than to be a part of it in the future. Thank you for giving me this chance.” My voice breaks in an embarrassing way, but Bear merely smiles at me.
When I’ve composed myself a little, he asks, “So now that you’re officially hired, tell me what ideas you have for shoots.”
Without hesitation, I open up and share this crazy idea I had for a video with Tank and Brewer.
26
Troy
Mason and I are lounging on my couch working on our game when my phone rings on my nightstand. Since no one calls me aside from Rebel, the sound immediately brings a smile to my face.
Mason glances over at me and gives me a knowing look. “Boyfriend?” he asks as I reach for my phone.
My nose scrunches, and I shake my head rapidly. Boyfriend? No, fuck no.
“What’s up, stud?” I answer.
“Hey, babe. Can I come over?” he asks.
“Sorry, I’ve already got a man in my bed at the moment,” I tease, shooting Mason a wink and trying not to laugh at his horrified face.
“Oh, seriously?” Rebel asks, sounding a bit disappointed.
“Yeah, but not in the way you’re thinking. My...uh...friend, Mason is here.”
It feels weird calling anyone a friend, I’ve spent so much of my life keeping everyone at a minimum fifty-feet distance. But, I can’t deny that the more time Mason and I have spent working together, the more I’ve grown somewhat attached to him as a person. It’s kind of gross. Maybe I need therapy.
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