Straight Shooter (Rear Entrance Video, #3)

by Heidi Belleau

  Maybe that was why Austin was already on the bus, on his way to Liam’s studio, without a single fucking clue what he was going to do once he got there. Whether he wanted to go through with this fucking thing; this thing he’d been so damn sure about two hours ago. Well, split-second decisions had gotten him this far—what was one more once he and Liam were face-to-face?

  Shoot glove side.

  Shoot stick side.

  Fuck me.

  Fix me.

  Fuck me to fix me.

  Fuck.

  He was here. He didn’t remember getting off the bus or pulling the business card out of his pocket, but he must have at some point because he was standing at Liam’s address with the card in his hand. In front of him, a heavy steel door was stencilled with the words MISCHIEVOUS PICTURES.

  Place looked like a dive. Shit, where was he, anyway? He peered down at the business card. Hastings, of course. Right in the heart of skid row, because where else would Liam choose to conduct his seedy fucking business?

  Look who’s talking. You’re the one begging to be a part of it.

  Begging and scraping, and now he was here at Liam’s door like a lost fucking puppy. Might as well knock.

  Or rather, not knock, because this seemed to be some sort of big, looming old industrial building, like an old factory, and there was no way you just knocked on a door like that. There was, however, a buzzer. He pressed it before he could second-guess himself.

  Looks like nobody’s home, better drop this whole thing and get the fuck out of here! some cowardly (sane?) part of him chimed when the door didn’t immediately open. But he stayed exactly where he was, like his feet were stuck to the pavement. Actually, since this was Hastings, they very well might have been. With gum or tar or maybe good old semen. Whatever it was, he stayed rooted on the spot even as it became obvious nobody was answering the bell.

  He should have turned and walked away. In a movie, if he turned away the door would open at that exact moment. But Austin didn’t move, didn’t twitch a single muscle, just stood staring at the door in absolute utter disbelief that he could ever get this far only to find nobody home. No, no, no. You didn’t make a decision like this and have nothing come of it. You didn’t—

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  The door was open. Liam was standing there.

  Correction, Master Puck was standing there. Eyeliner. Chest harness. Braces. Austin stared, dumbfounded.

  “Can you make this quick, kid? We’re supposed to be filming today . . . if my bottom ever fucking shows up.” Liam poked the front half of his body out the door of his studio, peering impatiently down the sidewalk. No bottom, only some dude a block down going through a trash can for bottles.

  And Austin.

  Austin was here.

  This is your chance. Offer to take the other guy’s place.

  Austin opened his mouth. “I . . .” He stared up into Liam’s fierce eyes. “I’m not here to beg you for a part. I . . . I can’t do porn with you, Liam.”

  Liam snorted. “No shit you can’t.”

  Another split-second decision, three seconds left on the clock and here Austin was, taking one last wild, desperate shot. “But I really need to talk.”

  He thought Liam was going to snort again, but the guy nodded instead, features softening. “Of course, buddy. C’mon.” He opened the door the rest of the way and went inside, leaving Austin to trail behind.

  All this time, Austin had thought he had nobody to talk to, nobody he could trust not to tear him to shreds or destroy his life, nobody to believe him. But Liam had been there the whole time.

  Too bad he had no idea what to say.

  Not that he could have said it if he did, because the minute they walked into the massive, open space, Austin was swarmed by people.

  A woman with an apron of makeup brushes got to him first, but before she could really get her hands on him, somebody else had taken her place.

  Mistress Titania. Holy shit. Her hair and makeup done up all vampy, but she was wearing leggings and a bright orange tank top, looking more like she was running down to Whole Foods for organic soy milk than about to star in a BDSM porno. And yet she was somehow more beautiful in the flesh than she ever was on camera, so absurdly petite with the kind of hair Austin had to remind himself very firmly he couldn’t touch. And she was glowering at him.

  “Is this him?” she asked Liam, talking to him like Austin wasn’t there. “Is this the so-called professional who apparently doesn’t know how to work a watch or a phone?”

  “Easy, now,” Liam said.

  “Don’t you easy, now me,” she snarled back at him. “You condescending shit. This is a business. Time is money.” She rounded on Austin. “A lesson you’d do well to learn.”

  “Baby,” Liam said. “Baby. Baby.” She finally looked to him again, if only because she was raring up to lay into him. Austin had been with enough women to know that look. Liam didn’t give her time to let loose, though. He closed a hand around Austin’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is Austin. From the porn store.”

  It was like flipping a switch. Her face contorted into an exaggerated pout and she slinked forward, chin in one hand. “Oh, pet,” she said, in horrible syrupy baby talk.

  Austin shot Liam a look, wondering what the fuck he’d told her, but Liam was too focused on Mistress Titania to notice.

  “Look, babe. This obviously isn’t happening today. We’re missing talent, we’re behind schedule, it’s a complete fucking mess. Why don’t you and the crew go grab an hour for lunch and I’ll try and salvage things here.”

  Titania rolled her eyes. “Yes, salvage things. You do that.” She clapped her hands. “You heard the man!” she announced to the rest of their crew. “Lunch is on Liam.”

  Liam opened his mouth to protest but obviously thought better of saying anything. As his crew filed out, he grumbled to himself, “Guess I’m not paying off this month’s credit card bill after all.” But then he shook his head and smiled. The front door to the studio slammed shut, and Liam locked it behind them. “All right, kid. I have a feeling my scheduled sub isn’t coming, but if he does, he’s gonna find what appears to be an empty studio that was sick of waiting for his cute ass, so I bought us an hour and a half at least. For all Lalita talks about time is money, the woman sure does know how to stretch out a lunch. So what’s up?”

  Austin didn’t reply, because he was finally cluing in to his surroundings. The place was huge: a big open plan floor space with a high ceiling and old exposed ductwork. It was also old as balls, with exposed brick and huge grimy windows with their little square panes all painted black. And all around him, stuff. Chairs and couches and those big lighting umbrellas and tool chests and tables covered in coffee mugs and sex toys. He saw the little table and chairs set they always used for the STRAIGHT SUB SETUP videos. Funny how in the scenes it looked like a small, closed-off room, and not just a table and chairs framed in by two plywood “walls.” And then there was all the other stuff lurking against the bricks, stuff that looked like it came out of a medieval dungeon. Metal dog cages and sawhorses and a massive X made of wood.

  “It’s like a kink factory,” he said, still trying to take it all in, and Liam laughed.

  “Damn, I wish you were around when we were coming up with a name for the company. Kink Factory is real punchy.” He put a hand on Austin’s lower back and guided him to a well-worn couch draped with a hideous crocheted blanket. “But yep, this is home. Costs me a fortune in rent, but when you do the kind of stuff I do, it really pays to have a gritty industrial space to play with. Renting out nice houses for an afternoon doesn’t cut it in this part of the business.”

  “I guess not,” Austin said, staring at some kind of looming wood-and-rope construction made up of two massive posts filled with metal anchoring rings and strung with bright white rope.

  “You like it?” Liam asked, following the direction of Austin’s gaze.

  “I have no fucking idea.” H
e laughed, the sound maybe bordering on hysterical. “God, I have no fucking idea about anything.”

  Liam put his big, steady hands on Austin’s shoulders again, gently pushing him onto the couch then sitting down himself.

  The comfy, warm couch. Austin settled back and took a deep, shaky breath. Tried to imagine he was in a cozy little apartment instead of a warehouse full of whips and dildos.

  “Talk to me,” Liam said. The natural authoritativeness of his voice soothed Austin somehow, made his heart stop thrashing and that flip-flopping in his stomach settle to a more gentle kind of rocking motion.

  Talk to Liam. Liam who had always listened and never judged before. Always accepted Austin at his word.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

  Liam threw an arm onto the back of the couch, around Austin’s shoulders. He clicked his tongue in thought. “Well, maybe you can start with why the hell you wanted to do porn with me so bad.”

  Austin’s face burned. “As if you don’t know.”

  “Humour me,” Liam replied.

  “I didn’t want to do porn. Porn is forever. You can’t take it back.” Now that he was the one saying them, Sandra’s words made so much sense. He didn’t understand how he’d ever thought any differently. Oh God, if he’d gone through with it and any of his teammates had seen! He put his face in his hands, the very thought of that possibility making him nauseous and trembly. “Shit, I have no idea what I was thinking. If anybody saw, it would destroy my life.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You knew that this whole time, didn’t you?”

  Liam sighed. “I’ve seen it go well and I’ve seen it go wrong, Austin. And you’ve got gonna go wrong written all over you. I’m glad you came to your senses.”

  “Me too,” Austin said, thinking maybe he owed Sandra some kind of thank you, even if it was just him never visualizing her sex life ever again. “But I still—” He swallowed hard.

  “You still . . .?”

  “I don’t want to do porn with you, but I still want—” He bit his lip, laughed, and coughed into his palms. Didn’t lift his head, didn’t dare show his face. “I still want you to . . .” Dominate me. “Do things to me. Like you did to those guys in your videos.”

  “Oh.” Liam drew away to the other side of the couch. Those six inches or so of hideous orange and brown granny squares felt like fifty hundred miles.

  “That makes me gay, doesn’t it? The fact that I want that. From you and not from Mistress—from Lalita.”

  “Oh God.” Liam blew out a harsh breath. “This is some heavy shit, kid. Can you answer a question for me, though?”

  “Sure. I guess. I don’t know.”

  “Who’s the first celebrity you remember jacking off to?”

  Oh God. The answer popped up almost instantly. “Lindsay Lohan. Mean Girls. Santa costume. Oh.”

  “Oh,” Liam echoed, and Austin could fucking hear the smirk in his voice, as if he was proud of poor little Austin for finally catching on. “Sooo . . . not gay then.”

  The revelation should have been more comforting. “S-so what, then, I’m like you? Bisexual?” The thought was terrifying, cutting through him and giving him shuddering goose bumps as surely as the high grinding sound of a skate sharpener.

  “Not for me to say, buddy.”

  Austin tore at his hair in frustration, biting out, “But I want you to fuck me.” He recoiled in surprise the minute the words left his mouth. Shit. He’d really gone for it. Really said it. And meant it, too. No doubt about that. Austin wanted Liam. Wanted to be dominated and fucked, and it wasn’t because of some bullshit reason like that whole carton of cigarettes thing or the stupid theory that if it hurt enough he wouldn’t want it again. Excuses. Bullshit excuses. He wanted it because he wanted it.

  Wanted Liam.

  “I believe you.”

  Austin looked up, blinking away a sudden wetness in his eyes, rubbing at the heat in his cheeks with the heel of his palm. Liam had said those words before. The day Austin had first insisted he was straight. He’d meant them then, and he meant them now too. He was still sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one arm slung over the back, one leg crossed over the other, and he was still wearing his full Master Puck gear, but his face was all Liam, easygoing and nonjudgmental but with a hint of mean humour. He stared at Austin, serious, expectant, and he didn’t move a single muscle. He was . . . waiting?

  For Austin. He was waiting for Austin. Austin’s choice. Austin’s move.

  Take the shot, or retreat.

  Austin hadn’t come this far and stripped himself this bare for nothing. He hadn’t come here only to chicken out at the last minute.

  So he lurched forward and pressed the flat of his palm on one side of Liam’s broad chest.

  At first, Liam didn’t react. Underneath Austin’s palm, his chest expanded and his heart beat, but his face stayed the same, and he didn’t make any moves for Austin.

  Austin moved his hand, dragging it down the smooth hardness of Liam’s chest, not really caressing so much as trying to acclimate himself to the feel.

  He was no Mean Girls–era Lindsay Lohan, that was for damn sure.

  But still, Austin had to admit, he wanted him.

  Liam’s voice brought him crashing back into the real world. “You need a safeword.”

  “What?”

  “You need a safeword. If you want me to dominate you. I mean, you’ve watched my videos, I presume you know what kind of shit I’m into. So I need you to give me a safeword so I know when it’s getting too heavy for you. Because otherwise, I don’t plan on holding back.”

  That threat went straight to Austin’s dick, even as the notion of the safeword annoyed the shit out of him. “But isn’t that what you do, go hard and heavy on straight guys until they learn to like it?”

  Liam leaned forward, rapping hard on Austin’s forehead with his thick knuckles. “Hello! Not real. Porn is not real. All those guys had safewords. You need one too.”

  Austin’s confidence fled him. The last of the lies he told himself, gone. Liam wasn’t forcing anyone. Liam wasn’t taking any kind of blame off Austin’s shoulders for what they’d do. What Austin would agree to do. A full participant, with no one else to pin this on. “What if I don’t want a safeword?” he asked, forcing himself to give Liam a challenging stare.

  Liam crossed his arms and shook his head, shrugging Austin’s hand off as he did. “Then you leave right now. Look, Austin, the safeword isn’t about . . .” He grunted in frustration. “It’s not about putting a bunch of lame restrictions on you and wrapping you in bubble wrap and taking all the edge out of what I do, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s about giving us both more freedom. Freedom for me to really let loose on you, because I know you’ll stop me if I ever push too hard. And it’s freedom for you, too, to fight and struggle and beg and cuss me out and push back, knowing I’m not gonna back off when what you really need is for me to fucking force you.” His jaw was tight, now. His eyes, dark. And his hand was on Austin’s thigh. Squeezing nearly—but not quite—to the point of hurting. “And you need to fight me, don’t you, Austin? You need me to overpower you.”

  Austin’s whole body seemed to loosen, somehow, like he was being hypnotized. “Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded strange to him.

  “Then pick a safeword. Something completely unsexy. Something random, that you’re not likely to yell when I start beating your punk ass, so no is right out. You’ll be saying that a lot.”

  Austin reached down impulsively and cupped his dick through his jeans. “Luongo,” he said, the first unsexy word to come to mind.

  Liam’s mouth twitched in a smirk. “Thatta boy. Now, how about you get on your knees so I can have a proper look at you, then?”

  What, just like that? How desperate to suck some dick did Liam think he was?

  Considering how desperate you’ve been acting lately? Pretty damn desperate, probably.

  Okay, point, but he
still found the assumption insulting on principle. “Make me,” he spat.

  Liam’s lips drew back, exposing teeth in some sociopathic imitation of a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Suddenly, one of his hands was fisted in Austin’s shaggy hair and twisting until Austin’s scalp screamed. Austin fell sideways into the pressure, cheek slapping smooth black leather as the side of his face fell against Puck’s upper thigh. When the pain subsided and he opened his eyes, his nose was right against Puck’s substantial bulge. “You wanna play who’s the alpha, huh, tough guy? That’s fine by me. Gives me an excuse to come down hard right off the bat. Time wasted is time lost, ’n’ all.” His grip on Austin’s head was hard and heavy, while his tone was light and conversational. “So hey, how’s the view down there?”

  His scalp wasn’t getting yanked off his skull anymore, at least, but Austin still grunted in disapproval when Puck used that grip to rub Austin’s face back and forth across the leather. It tugged on his skin, burning his skin, but worse was how close his face was to Puck’s crotch, so close it filled Austin’s entire field of vision, so close Austin could smell the musk and sex.

  That smell wasn’t supposed to make Austin so horny. Neither was getting treated like a dog who’d pissed the carpet.

  “Answer me,” Puck demanded. “That’s rule one. I ask you a question, you answer me. You answer me immediately and you answer me respectfully and you answer me truthfully.”

  “Truthfully?” Austin said, his voice muffled by Puck’s crotch and his own squished cheek and lips. “It fucking stinks.”

  Puck laughed, the sound of it not remotely offended. “That’s what a man smells like when he’s ready to fuck, kid. And I promise that by the end of the night you’re gonna learn to love the smell of my balls. Crave the smell of my balls. Wake up in the morning looking to get a breath of that smell before you even take a piss.” He pushed harder, squishing Austin’s face right into his bulge. A wave of revulsion hit Austin head-on; too bad it was accompanied by a pulse to his cock. “What about you? Wearing spray can deodorant like all the other little popped-collar kiddies at whatever passes for bars among the douche bag frat boy set?”