by K. C. Wells
Seb peered at him. “Yeah, I can understand why you’re pissed. I would be too, if I had someone speak to me the way he did to you.” He shook his head. “But it’s not you, you know that, right? He’s like that with everyone he does a scene with.” Seb scowled. “Little bastard’s just plain rude, if you ask me.”
Mike groaned. “Seb, I’m trying to get into the right mind-set for this, and sorry, dude, but you’re not helping.”
Seb flushed. “Aw, sorry, Scott. I’ll leave you alone, okay? See you in a few.” He rose to his feet quickly and left Mike on the couch. Mike closed his eyes.
Just think of something else. Anything.
It was always frustrating as hell when Mike had to film a scene with a guy with whom there was no chemistry. He really had to work hard at the pretense, and that was fine when he was going through the mechanics of fucking. Mike could light up his eyes, kiss, smile, like there really was passion between them. The one thing that was impossible to fake, however, was the cum shot. He had to get it right, and it had to be good. And when the chemistry wasn’t there, it became so much harder to do it well. Mike had his rituals for when this happened, that inner room in the back of his head where he kept a catalog of his happy places—moments with exes, moments where the sex had been damn good—and he simply rolled his head back into them and relived them. It was a repertoire that worked for him. The funny thing was, he could watch the scene later and recall instantly what had been on his mind when he’d come.
His fingers touched the wide base of the dildo, and he pulled it out a ways before pushing it firmly into him. The thought rose, unbidden. I wonder how Tommy would feel about some toys.
And there was his good mood. Mike kept his eyes closed, preferring the view in his head. Tommy, a nice fat dildo plugging him while Mike fed him his dick, slick with Tommy’s spit, dripping with it.
Except the picture didn’t stay that way.
Suddenly in his head was Tommy sitting next to him on his couch at home, head resting against the cushions while Mike kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. Tommy in Mike’s bed, all warm and sleepy, hands soft on Mike’s back, his nape, his ass. Tommy in the shower, staring down at Mike as he sucked Tommy off, hot water hitting Tommy’s shoulders and falling over Mike in fine droplets, Tommy’s dick hard and hot in his mouth….
“Scott, we’re ready to continue.”
The voice of reality intruded, dispelling Mike’s pleasant recollections. He opened his eyes with a sigh and pulled the dildo free of his body. Once he’d wiped it on his towel, Mike dropped it into his bag and heaved himself up off the couch and back over to the set. Chad was already there kneeling on the bed, that arrogant cock pointing straight up. Chad tapped his fingers against his thigh, his lips pursed.
“C’mon, let’s do this, okay? I got plans for later.”
Mike gave Chad his politest smile. “Well, this is what they pay you for, isn’t it?” Not that he wanted to spend more time on the scene than was necessary. He climbed onto the bed and got on his hands and knees, ready for Chad’s dick. Seb was back, camera poised.
He felt the mattress dip as Chad positioned himself at Mike’s ass. “You ready for my cock?” Chad said in a low voice, his hands on Mike’s cheeks, pulling them apart to reveal his hole.
“Any time you’re ready.” Mike kept his tone even.
“When you two are done,” Tony said dryly. They started with Chad rocking his hips and rubbing his dick over Mike’s hole, Mike making low moans for the camera.
Chad curved his slim body over Mike’s, cock pressed firmly between his cheeks. “Gonna open up that boy pussy for me?” Chad rocked faster, his slick, bare dick sliding through Mike’s crack. “You like havin’ a dick up your ass, don’tcha?” He straightened and slapped Mike’s ass, the sound as loud as a crack in the quiet studio. Mike gasped, and Chad laughed. “Yeah, you like it rough, don’tcha?” He did it again, only harder this time.
Mike snorted. Chad had no idea. Mike doubted the little turd had even so much as peeked at a website like Bound Gods. He might’ve had a shock. Mike had lost count of how many times he’d filmed for them. He wanted to laugh out loud at the notion that a mere slap was rough. Fucking little know-it-all kid….
There was a lull in the proceedings while Chad gloved up, and then he was demanding entrance, pushing insistently at Mike’s pucker until he was all the way inside. “Big enough for ya?” he said with a cackle.
Mike bit back his moan. He wasn’t about to give Chad the satisfaction. Then he caught Tony’s signal. Shit…. He had a job to do. Chad might be an unprofessional little shit, but Mike most definitely was not. On cue, Mike dropped his chest to the mattress and let out a groan. “Fuck, your dick is huge.”
“You know it,” Chad crowed, withdrawing until just the head of his cock was inside him, then powerfully shoving back into him. He sped up his thrusts, hips starting to piston. “You gonna be my bitch? Huh?” Chad cackled once more, thrusting into him with long, deep strokes. “Yeah, you like being my bitch.” He slapped Mike on the ass, and it stung. “C’mon, then, bitch. Back up onto my cock like you want it.”
Mike pushed back, fucking himself on that thick shaft. Then he was shoving back, impaling himself on it, his breathing rapid while he worked his cock.
“Yeah, look at this big ol’ bear.” Chad’s voice was gleeful. “Bet you thought you’d be fucking my tight little ass, huh?” He snorted. “That right? You think about fucking me? Yeah, right, like I’d let some big ol’ queer put his dick up my ass.”
“Break!” Mike yelled. Without waiting for confirmation from Tony, he moved forward, feeling Chad slide out of him, hot and slick. Mike was off the bed and striding away from it, breathing heavily, fists clenched tight. By the time Tony reached him, he had his rage down to a simmering point.
“Scott, what are you playing at?”
Mike gaped at his director. “What am I playing at? Did you not hear that little bastard? Who the fuck does he think he is, Jeff Stryker or something?”
“Aw, come on,” Tony said softly, moving closer.
“Come on, nothing.” Mike stared at him. “It was bad enough before we started filming. I got the feeling we were all taking up his precious time, he was so disinterested. There was me, coming up with suggestions for the scene, and there was him, not giving a fuck.” He scrubbed his hand across his beard. “But all that crap? Why the fuck should I have to put up with that?”
“Just bear with it, okay?” Tony pleaded. “You know that once the sound editor gets finished with it, not one word of it will end up in the final version. Please, Scott.” He laid a hand on Mike’s arm. “Let’s just get it done, all right?”
Mike took several deep, cleansing breaths, pushing out all the tension with long exhales. “Okay,” he said at last. He and Tony walked back to the set, where Chad was once again on his phone, looking bored out of his skull, hand idly stroking his dick.
Chad glanced up at their approach. “Y’all done now? Hissy fit over?” He grinned.
Mike felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder and bit back his retort. He flashed Chad that polite smile again. “Let’s just finish this, okay?”
Chad shrugged. “Wasn’t me callin’ for a break, but there ya go.” He put his phone down where it was still within reach and climbed back onto the bed. Mike resumed his last position and readied himself. Chad quickly pushed back into him and was soon grabbing his hips and yanking him back onto that big cock. “I looked you up, y’know,” he said between thrusts.
What the fuck? “Huh?” Mike did his best to ignore the distraction and concentrated on getting erect again. Heaven knew it was proving more difficult than usual.
Chad bent over him, hips rocking as he fucked him faster, harder. He brought his lips to Mike’s ear. “Yeah, you got quite a history, don’tcha? Just how many dicks has this big ol’ hairy butt of yours taken?” His hips slammed into Mike’s ass, the sharp slap of flesh against flesh.
“I don’t actually keep score,”
Mike ground out, fighting the urge to stop the scene right then. “How about you shut up and let me do my job?” Talk about unprofessional…. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike caught a signal from Tony, and Chad suddenly clammed up. Mike sent Tony a silent vote of thanks and did his best to give the scene his full attention.
Things went better from then on, and after a couple of position changes, it was clear Chad was about to come. He whipped off the condom, and after a few tugs he shot his load over Mike’s chest with a low cry. The camera moved in for a close-up of his creamy come, pooling between Mike’s pecs, caught on the mat of hair.
With a satisfied sigh, Chad grabbed his towel and wiped himself down before giving Mike a smug smile. “Well, that’s me done. Your turn.” He sat back on his haunches, hands resting on his thighs.
Mike knew it was going to take a while. He closed his eyes and withdrew into his happy places. He replayed Saturday night, every look, every caress, the sounds that had poured out of Tommy’ sweet mouth….
“Didn’t know it was gonna take this long.” Chad’s bored tone drilled its way into his thoughts, and he tensed, doing his best to shut out the arrogant little prick. He brought his mind back to Tommy, hands gripping Mike’s shoulders in the shower, the water pouring off him in a torrent, lips parted in a breathless O while Mike brought him to climax with his mouth. Little sounds intruded: Chad’s fingers, tapping the bed frame; Chad’s sighs, soft yet oh so fucking annoying; his tongue clicking, noises that spoke of impatience….
It took Mike several minutes to reach that point where his orgasm was finally in sight. He flicked his hand in a signal to Seb and then focused on pumping his cock, body tingling as his climax approached….
And then everything went to hell as he reached the point of no return and had to reel it back from the edge when Chad got up from the bed and walked away to send a message on his fucking phone.
Mike squeezed hard around the base of his dick, groaning in frustration. “Tony, for fuck’s sake!”
He was gonna kill the little fucker.
“Chad, you need to keep your position, okay?” Mike caught the brief flicker of anger in the director’s voice. Mike was in pain, his dick was so hard, his balls throbbing. The second that Chad was back where he should have been, Mike let it rip, his come erupting from his cock in an arc, hitting Chad square in the chest. Mike growled, body shaking, balls tingling. He waited until the shocks had died away, and then he lurched up from the bed toward Chad, who was wiping Mike’s come off his body with a towel.
“Well, you got there eventually,” Chad said with a smirk, arms folded across his chest.
That was fucking it.
Mike pulled back his fist to wipe that smug smile off Chad’s face and knock him into the middle of next week, when Seb grabbed his upper arm. “Scott, no!” Wayne, the photographer, was at Mike’s side in an instant, his hand on Mike’s shoulder. Chad backed away from him, arms by his sides, his muscles tensed.
Something in Seb’s voice broke through the red mist of Mike’s rage, and he froze, his fist slowly unclenching. Chad was staring at him, quiet for once, the faintest flicker of fear across his face.
Mike shrugged himself free of Seb and Wayne, picked up his towel from beside the bed, and strode off the set to the showers. He was still trembling when the first rush of hot water hit his body. Mike braced himself against the tiles, elbows locked, head down, letting the shower wash it all away, all the anger, the frustration, that scary feeling that he’d just been about to make a very grave mistake. He had no idea how long he stood under the jets, but at last he regained his composure and reached for the shower gel to wash himself properly. By the time he was dried off and dressed, Mike was calm enough to think clearly. There’d been no sign of Chad, thank God. Mike wasn’t that calm.
He walked out of the showers and across the now empty set to the little room that served as the office. Tony was seated at his desk, staring at his computer monitor. When Mike entered the room and softly closed the door behind him, Tony glanced up. He swallowed.
“You okay?”
Mike dropped onto the worn chair facing the desk. “Not really, no.” He ran his fingers through the short layer of hair on top of his head. “I’ve been around this business long enough to realize nothing will be done about Chad. He brings in a lot of subscribers, I know. So while they got their little cash cow, they’re gonna let him get away with a lotta crap.”
“Hey, come on—”
“It is what is it, all right? It’s business. I get that. But I’m not here to talk about Chad, okay?” Mike inhaled deeply. “Tony, I need you to do something for me.”
“Okay,” Tony said slowly, a hint of nervousness apparent in his voice.
“I want you to give Rod a message. I’d tell him myself, but this way I get to keep my temper, which I’m sure would be preferable for all concerned.”
Tony’s tight expression eased a little. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
Mike paused. He knew Rod Bingham, ManFactory’s owner, was a decent man, but right then Mike really didn’t trust himself to stay calm. “Can you tell him to bear in mind when he plans future scenes for me—if he still wants to use me, after today—that I will not do any more scenes with gay-for-pay actors. You got that, Tony? Only gay or bi guys from now on.”
Tony stared at him. “You sure about this, Scott? ’Cause this could seriously affect your career with ManFactory, and maybe other companies too, once it gets out. And you know it will.”
“Well, that’s a chance I’ll have to take.” Mike couldn’t deny it was a big step, but his mind was made up. There was no way he could go through this again. It was undoubtedly the easiest solution, but he knew Tony was right—there would be repercussions.
Guess I’ll just have to deal with them if—when—they arise. Maybe the writing was on the wall for Scott Masters, after twenty years in the business.
And maybe Scott Masters was just about ready for it.
Chapter Seventeen
SOMETHING WAS up with Mike.
He’d seemed pleased to see Tommy when he arrived at just past ten o’clock, even gave him a little peck on the cheek, which had set Tommy off blushing like crazy, not that anyone seemed to notice. However, Tommy had been studying Mike since then, and yeah, all was definitely not well. He couldn’t put his finger on it at first. Mike seemed tired, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle. Then he realized it was more than that.
The man was clearly feeling down.
When it got to midnight and nothing had changed, Tommy decided a little investigating was in order. He waited until Mike had disappeared around the other side of the bar and then caught Patrick’s attention.
Patrick beamed at him. “Hey, sugar, whassup?” He puffed out his chest and flexed his arms, showing off those big guns of his. “You tired of ol’ Mikey yet? Wanna try a real man for size?” Tommy stared at him, speechless, until Patrick cackled. “It’s okay, hon, I know you’re Mike’s, all right? Now what’s up?”
It took Tommy a second or two to get over the rush of warmth that Patrick’s words released in him—I’m Mike’s?—but then he recovered. “Is Mike okay? He doesn’t seem like himself.”
A little crease appeared between Patrick’s eyebrows. “You don’t miss much, do ya?” He regarded Tommy steadily for a moment, until Tommy was squirming under such scrutiny. Then he gave a satisfied nod, and Tommy had the distinct impression that he’d been given some sort of approval. “He’s been like this for a couple days now. Whatever’s buggin’ him, he ain’t talkin’ about it. See if you can get him to open up, okay? He might talk to you.”
“Sure, I can try.” Privately Tommy thought Mike’s coworkers had more of a chance than he did, but he was willing to try.
“Good boy.” Patrick smiled at him and then glanced at his empty glass. “You want another Cherry Coke, or are you finally ready for something stronger?” His eyes twinkled.
Tommy chuckled. “I think I’ll stick with the Che
rry Coke, if that’s all right. I still gotta drive later.”
His face heated up when Patrick leaned across the bar and kissed him on the cheek. “Sugar, you are just so adorable.” He walked away, chuckling to himself, only to return a minute later with a refill. Tommy thanked him and took a drink of the cold liquid, gazing around the bar. It was a relatively quiet night. As always some game or other was playing on the TV screen, and most of the guys in the bar were watching. Others were sitting around, chatting, laughing, and drinking. He caught sight of Mike out of the corner of his eye and watched him surreptitiously. Mike wasn’t doing much talking, that was for sure. He flashed the odd smile at a customer, but there was none of the playful banter that Tommy loved to hear. It was starting to worry him.
By the time Mike was ready to leave, Tommy was in a real mess. He knew Mike had said he was okay meeting like this, but Tommy wasn’t about to hold him to it if he wasn’t in the mood. It wasn’t like Tommy was desperate to repeat last Saturday’s experience. He’d loved the sex, sure, but what concerned him most right then was that something was wrong, and he wanted to help, even if that meant letting Mike go home alone, if that was what he wanted.
Mike came from behind the bar, leather jacket in his hand. “You ready to go?”
Tommy nodded, unwilling to say anything in earshot of the other staff. Once they were outside, Mike got out his keys.
“You gonna follow me to my place?” He spoke quietly.
Tommy laid a hand on his arm. “It’s okay if you wanna go home without me, all right? I mean, I get it that you might wanna be alone.” Just looking at Mike made his heart ache. Whatever was weighing the man down sure was heavy.
Mike stood very still, eyes fixed on Tommy’s. For a moment he said nothing, but Tommy got the impression that there was a lot going on behind those blue eyes. Then his careful expression melted into the first genuine smile Tommy had seen all night.
“You know what? Right now, being with you is all I want.”
