by Ryan Field
Marco rubbed Frazier's shaft and smiled. “Do you want to put the dogs in the bathtub? We haven't done that in a while.” This was an urban slang term they used for when Frazier inserted his penis and his balls into Marco's ass at the same time. Frazier had large balls and it wasn't easy to do. But Marco never complained.
"No. I'm so fucking mad,” Frazier said. “I'm just going to stand here while you get down on your knees and suck me off. And it had better be good, too. I want you to suck until your lips are swollen and your face turns red.” Then he slapped Marco's ass one last time and said, “Now get down on your knees and suck me off, bitch."
Marco slowly went down on the rug. He kneeled before Frazier, spread his legs wide, and arched his back. When Frazier spread his legs and braced himself for the blow job he was about to receive, Marco pulled Frazier's dick out of the opening of his boxer shorts. He tugged on his fuzzy balls and pulled them out, too.
"Suck my balls first,” Frazier said. It was a command, not a request.
Marco took a deep breath and pressed his face between Frazier's legs. He buried his nose in Frazier's crotch and opened his mouth. With one quick tug, he sucked both balls into his mouth and started sucking. His cheeks bulged and he took quick breaths through his nose. The familiar salty taste made Marco's own erection jerk up and down.
"That's it,” Frazier said. “Get my balls nice and wet.” He grabbed his dick and slapped the hard shaft against Marco's cheek.
A few minutes later, Frazier's balls slid out of Marco's mouth and Marco adjusted his position. He pressed his palms on Frazier's thighs and opened his mouth. When he wrapped his puffy lips around the head of Frazier's dick, Frazier closed his eyes and grunted. Marco knew the head of Frazier's dick had always been overly sensitive. All Marco had to do was touch it with the tip of his tongue and Frazier would moan.
"I'm still so fucking mad,” Frazier said. “I'm going to fuck your face now, bitch."
Marco nodded yes. He wanted his face fucked. He wanted to please his lover. He knew it wouldn't take long either. Frazier was the kind of man who could last all night without coming too soon. There had been times he'd fucked Marco for so long and with such intensity Marco had trouble walking the next day. But when it came to angry sex, Frazier was fast, and this was half the fun. All Frazier had to do was slide his cock into Marco's mouth, buck a few times, and he was ready to come.
But when Frazier bucked his hips forward and his cock slid to the back of Marco's throat, Marco heard a click, followed by two clacks.
Marco opened his eyes and looked at the bathroom door. His lips were pressed against Frazier's pubic hair and Frazier's entire dick was in his mouth by then. When he saw Yves standing in the bathroom doorway, he gulped and swallowed a drop of Frazier's pre-come.
Yves gasped and covered his mouth with his palm. He was naked except for a skimpy black towel around his waist that barely covered his dick.
Frazier's back was to the bathroom door, and his eyes were closed. He had no idea young Yves was standing there with his hand over his mouth gaping at Marco sucking his dick. He continued to buck his hips.
But Marco wiggled his head and pushed on Frasier's thighs. Then he pulled his head back. When Frazier's dick fell from his mouth, he put his hands on his hips and said, “What are you doing in here?” It came out with an exasperated sigh.
Frazier turned toward the door and gave Yves a blank stare, then grabbed his dick and shoved it back into his boxer shorts fast. His body jerked; his dick was sensitive.
"I'm so sorry,” Yves said. “I just wanted to see of you needed me, Marco. I knocked a few times and no one answered. I was worried about you.” There was an apologetic, pleading tone in his voice. His arms were spread and his open palms were facing them.
"Well, as you can see, we're just fine,” Marco said. “I was just giving my partner a blow job, if that's okay with you, Yves."
"Calm down, Marco,” Frazier said. “He didn't mean to walk in on us. It was an accident. We're all adults.” He was smiling at Yves, staring at Yves's naked young body for the first time.
"There are no accidents,” Marco said. “He's standing there wearing nothing but a towel."
"I was just going to take a fast shower,” Yves said. “I'm so sorry. I thought you were alone, Marco. I really didn't mean to intrude on anything personal."
"But you did.” Marco said. His voice was loud. It almost sounded as if he was hissing through his teeth.
"That's enough, Marco,” Frazier shouted. “The poor boy is embarrassed enough. Let's just forget it ever happened. Yves can go back to his room and everything will be fine.” He smiled at Yves again, letting him know he wasn't mad.
Marco sighed. He was on his knees and the taste of Frazier's dick was still in his mouth. If it hadn't been for Frazier, he would have tossed Yves out of his house that night for good.
And as if that wasn't enough, when Yves backed into the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his waist snagged on the doorknob. The towel slid off and exposed his naked body. It looked like an accident, but Marco knew it wasn't. He knew Yves wanted to ruin their night and he knew Yves wanted Frazier to see his naked young body. His smooth muscles glistened; the shadows beneath his loin muscles pointed to his crotch. His body was almost as perfect as Marco's body, except his legs were a little shorter and his feet went in opposite directions.
Marco clenched his fists. When he saw the way Frazier glared at Yves's young flesh, he felt like pushing them both out the window.
Yves covered his private parts so they couldn't see his dick.
Frazier, however, laughed. He seemed to think this was all so amusing. “This just isn't your night, Yves, you poor kid. You'd better go to bed now before anything else happens."
"I'm so sorry,” Yves said. “Goodnight.” Then he backed into the bathroom and shut the door.
When he was gone, Frazier shook his head and smiled. “Poor kid,” he said. “I feel bad for him. Did you see the look on his face?"
"You feel bad for him?” Marco asked. “He walked in on us while your dick was down my throat and you feel bad for him?"
"He's just a boy,” Frazier said. “Where's your sense of humor? It's all good. He's gay and he understands."
Marco shrugged and sighed. It was no use. No matter what he said or how he tried to rationalize, he knew he'd come off looking bad. He stood up and walked to the bed. He pulled down the sheet and punched his pillow. This time he couldn't win; the situation had to be handled with care. Whatever the mystical hold Yves had on everyone was just too strong for him to fight. The only way to deal with Yves Marisano was to get rid of him permanently.
"Where are you going?” Frazier asked. “We didn't finish what we started.” He grabbed his crotch and waved his junk up and down.
"I'm sorry, Frazier,” Marco said. “I'm just not in the mood anymore. I'll make it up to you in the morning."
Frazier released his dick and scrunched his lips. He pulled off his boxer shorts and threw them across the room. As he stomped to the bed, he said, “I have an early appointment tomorrow morning. Don't worry about it.” Evidently, his ego had been bruised and now he was acting as if someone had taken his pacifier.
Marco rolled his eyes. He didn't refuse Frazier to be mean or to get even. He truly wasn't in the mood for sex anymore. Yves had ruined the moment. And Marco had an intuitive feeling this was what Yves had intended to do all along.
However, Marco didn't want to go to bed mad. So he reached back and patted Frazier on the thigh. “I love you,” he said.
He waited a moment for an answer, then felt Frazier's foot rub up against his. “I love you, too,” Frazier said. “Even if you are a lunatic."
Marco Smiled. Though he hated getting up early for anything, he would force himself to get up at the crack of dawn the next morning so his face would be between Frazier's legs when Frazier opened his eyes.
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Chapter Ten
On the aftern
oon Marco arrived at the Frazier North showroom to help the new models audition for his former back-up model's replacement, he smiled all the way to the building. When the car dropped him off at the entrance, he grabbed the designer backpack he always carried around the city and jogged to the door as if he was twenty years old again. He hadn't seen nor heard from Yves in a day. He had a feeling Edgar Dupree had offered Yves a new job with his modeling agency and Yves was waiting to tell Marco the news.
And good riddance. The faster Yves Marisano was out of his life the happier he'd be.
But when he entered the lobby he frowned and stopped bouncing. He raised an eyebrow and stared at the row of black leather chairs in the reception area. Harris Wolfe was sitting in the last seat on the right, wearing a dark conservative suit, his legs crossed at the knee. If he hadn't been swinging his long thin foot like a girl, he might have been able to pass as a straight man in that suit.
"What are you doing here?” Marco asked. He didn't feel like being polite.
"I brought Avi down to audition to be your back-up model,” Harris said. He didn't get up. But he lifted his head and gave a half smile.
"Avi,” Marco said. “He looks nothing like me. I don't understand why Edgar would ask you to bring Avi. How many others are here for the audition?"
"Just Avi,” Harris said, grinning. “It seems all of Edgar's models are either booked or they aren't interested in being a back-up model. What are you doing here?"
"I promised I'd help Edgar and Jasper out with the auditions,” Marco said. “Edgar asked me to be here so he could see how the possible back-up models compared to me."
"The auditions were set for one this afternoon,” Harris said, looking at his watch. “It's now three o'clock."
Marco rolled his eyes. He was notorious for being late all the time. “I have to remember to start setting the alarm,” he said, smiling.
"Well,” Harris said, “no harm done. They did the auditions without you."
"How was Avi? Did they like him?” Marco asked to be polite. He couldn't have cared less about who they hired to be his back-up model. Marco hadn't missed a shoot, a fashion show, or anything professional in his life, and he wasn't about to start missing anything now that he was getting older and his competition was getting younger and stronger.
"Avi was dismal at best,” Harris said. “He has no training, he tripped all over his big feet, and when he smiles he looks a little creepy. But don't worry. They hired a back-up for you anyway.” Now Harris was smiling so wide his upper gums were showing.
"But you said the only audition was with Avi."
"When you didn't show up,” Harris said, “your dedicated assistant, Yves, was nice enough to volunteer for you. He was so spectacular on the runway they decided to hire him as your back-up."
Marco blinked. His face grew hot and his heart began to race. But he forced a smile and said, “That's impossible. Yves is my assistant. He's not a model."
"Didn't you know they were already thinking about hiring Yves as your back-up?” Harris said. “I overheard Jasper and Edgar talking about it when Frazier was getting coffee."
Marco stared into his beady gray eyes. “Of course I knew,” he said, holding back a flood of emotions. He hadn't a clue they'd been thinking of Yves for his back-up. If he had, he never would have permitted it.
"But you look so shocked. I guess it slipped your mind,” Harris said, laughing.
Marco turned his back on Harris and thought for a moment. He had to handle this with care; he didn't want Harris to know he was seething inside. He crossed the reception area and put his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a black workout suit, with white stripes running down the sides of his legs.
"What about poor Avi?” Marco said. “How was his audition?"
"I don't even remember,” Harris said.
"I guess it just slipped your mind,” Marco said, giving him a sarcastic grin.
Harris stood up and crossed to where Marco was standing. He cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows. “Marco,” he said. “I've made this business my life. I've seen more young men who want to be male models than I care to remember. I've seen them come, I've seen them go. At best, most are passable. At worst, they are nice-looking young men from small towns with big dreams. They are self-indulgent and they pay bad photographers far too much money for head shots that will never do a thing for them as models. They pass them out to their friends, and their friends roll their eyes. These boys are all living in a fantasy world with no hope of ever becoming models."
Marco looked into his eyes and listened. He had a feeling he knew where this little speech was going.
"But once in a while I see someone special,” Harris said. “A young man with the perfect face, the perfect body, and the perfect look. It's not something I can describe in detail, but I know it when I see it and I've always been right. Something just clicks the moment he walks into a room. You were one of those young men, Marco. I knew it the moment I saw you. There are a few others, too."
Marco smiled. He knew it wasn't a compliment. “I guess the audition went well for Yves."
"The moment he walked down the runway in one of Frazier's designs, the entire room stopped to watch him,” Harris said. “It was the way he moved, the way he held his shoulders, and the way he tilted his head and smiled at the audience. It wasn't an audition. It was more like watching a professional walk down the runway in Paris. He moved as eloquently and effortlessly as you've always moved."
"Isn't that nice?” Marco said, forcing a smile.
"He'll be every bit the supermodel you are right now, Marco."
"Supermodel.” Marco laughed when he said it, despising this word more than any other word in the English language. It made him sound like a race car. “Tell me,” he said, “how did the others react?"
"Edgar drooled, Jasper couldn't stop applauding, and Frazier was speechless. When Frazier finally did say something, he could hardly contain his emotions. He said he'd never seen one of his designs come to life as well as it had come to life on Yves's body."
"I'm so thrilled for Yves,” Marco said, wishing he could spit right in Harris's face.
"Yves was absolutely humble,” Harris said. “He gave all the credit to Frazier's designs. And Frazier disagreed. He insisted Yves wore his clothes exactly the way he'd designed them to be worn."
Marco clenched his fists. “Meaning I haven't been modeling Frazier's designs the way he'd designed them to be worn,” he said.
"Your name was never even mentioned, Marco,” Harris said. “Everyone was too busy watching Yves to even think about you."
When Harris said this, Marco was ready to haul off and punch him in the jaw. The only thing Marco hated more than bad publicity was no publicity at all. How dare he speak to Marco this way? But just as Marco was about to lace into him, Avi walked into the reception area with a dejected look on his face. He stared down at his boots, his hands in his pockets, and frowned. He walked over to where Marco and Harris were standing and sighed. Marco's eyes bulged for a second, then he took a deep breath and looked in Avi's direction.
"Is everything all right?” Harris asked Avi.
"I feel like I just outran a pack of lions,” Avi said. “What do I do now?” He was talking about how Yves had made him look so inadequate, and about his next career move.
"I think it's time you started thinking about doing a TV reality show about male models,” Harris said, sticking the knife even deeper into Marco's back, knowing how Marco detested doing his own reality show.
"Do I get paid for that?” Avi asked.
Harris smiled at Marco and said, “Only the star gets paid. But you might win the grand prize.” Then he adjusted his jacket and opened the door for Avi without saying goodbye to Marco. On his way out, he looked at Marco and winked.
Marco squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, then walked down the hall toward the showroom where they had been holding the auditions. When he entered, he saw the back of Edgar's bald he
ad. Edgar was sitting on a chair in the back row alone while the others were back in the dressing area. Marco walked up behind Edgar's chair and purposely knocked the back of his head with his elbow. When Edgar turned to see who had just banged his head, Marco continued walking to the back. He took long strides, and he didn't stop to apologize to Edgar.
Though he was ready to kick the chairs and tear down the draperies, guessing they had all conspired behind his back to hire Yves as his back-up, he forced himself to smile. He walked into the dressing area fast and dropped his backpack on a chair. Yves was sitting on a zebra-print sofa with Frazier and Jasper standing over him. He noticed Yves was wearing a white linen suit from Frazier's new collection. It was the suit Marco was supposed to wear for the next live taping of the reality show.
"I'm so sorry I'm late,” Marco said. “I got stuck in traffic downtown and my cell phone went dead. Where are all the other models for the audition? I thought this place would be jammed with good-looking young guys."
Frazier and Jasper looked at each other and shrugged. Yves remained on the sofa, leaning forward with his hands folded as if he were ready to confess his sins.
Marco bubbled with energy. He smiled and turned to face Edgar. “How is Yves making out in your office, Edgar? I'm so glad you've hired him. Poor Yves was getting so bored working for me. He just didn't have enough to do.” He knew Edgar hadn't hired Yves to work in his office, and he wanted Edgar to know he knew.
Edgar lowered his eyes and slumped down in his seat.
