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Thanks for the encouraging comments from the first chapter! I have to admit that I wasn’t sure how the whole porn thing would go over with readers, but thanks for keeping an open mind.
We’re getting into the thick of things here in chapter two—heavy sex content. Hope you’re okay with that!
And again, please comment. I love getting your feedback. Happy reading.
Copyright (c) 2016 by Hudson Bartholomew. All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Between the Push and Pull – Chapter 2
Ryan tugged at his collar and the bowtie they told him to wear. He insisted that PhD students didn’t necessarily wear bowties—he certainly didn’t when he was in school—but they insisted that this PhD student did. So Ryan was stuck with a bowtie that threatened to cut off his air supply.
Other than the bowtie, the rest of the outfit wasn’t so bad. Slim fit dress shirt with rolled up sleeves under a vest, and tight jeans that showed off his ass. The wardrobe lady called it “hipster chic.” Ryan helpfully pointed out that hipster was already pretty chic, so she didn’t need to add chic as a description—that earned him a dirty glare.
The whole production was a lot more than what Ryan was used to. Typically, porn sets consisted of the people having sex, a couple of cameramen and assistants, and the director. Floodlights were set up to light the set and mics were attached to the top of the handheld cameras.
But this time, Ryan found himself on the sidelines of an honest to goodness film set. They’d managed to rent out an actual nightclub for a few hours and the entire place was buzzing with film crew fixing the lighting, sound guys with mic booms, and people running around with pieces of furniture. Erik was huddled with Gary and one of the cameramen talking through what they’d be shooting today.
Not for the first time did Ryan question what he had gotten himself into. Once he agreed, Erik and Gary immediately started scheduling shoot times, despite Ryan’s objection that they didn’t have a script yet. That’s when Erik sheepishly admitted that they already had the first two episodes mapped out.
Ryan remembered the apologetic hesitation in Erik’s blue eyes when he handed the script to Ryan. He almost sounded nervous when he asked for Ryan’s opinion. Ryan was loath to admit it, but the screenplay was quite good. Now he was worried whether he’d be able to pull it off.
“Okay, you ready?” Gary’s approach pulled Ryan from his own thoughts.
“Yeah, where do you want me?”
“Over here,” Gary led Ryan over to a tall round table with a glass of liquid on it. “This is your drink, so you can sip at it during the scene.”
“Don’t worry,” Erik smiled as he approached, “It’s water.” His dimple winked at Ryan.
“And where will you be?” Ryan asked.
“Erik will be on the platform,” Gary pointed to the box not far from the table. “You’ll be sipping at your drink, and watching Erik dance. Simple, shouldn’t be too hard.”
Ryan nodded—right, shouldn’t be too hard.
“Great, let’s get started,” Gary turned to toward the crowded room. “Places, people!”
And suddenly there was a hush across the room. The house lights dimmed, as ambient white light filled the space. Colorful strobe lights roamed around the room, controlled by some unseen force. Someone took Erik’s robe from him and he stepped up onto the box.
Gary called out, “Action,” and Erik started moving to an unheard beat.
Ryan let his eyes wander, appreciating the ripple of muscle as Erik undulated on top of the box. His skin glistened with oil and the colored lights played off the shiny planes and angles—he looked less like a man, and more like impressionist art come to life.
Wide shoulders, and strong arms. Defined chest that tapered to narrow hips adorned simply by straps from a jock strap. His thighs—Ryan had never seen such muscular thighs in his life. Strips of muscle twisting down his limbs until they disappeared in thick, black biker boots.
And all along Erik’s body swirled one unending tattoo. Ryan had seen one end of it peaking out of Erik’s t-shirt back at the bar; wisps of smoke spiraled down his left arm and licked at his elbow. From there, the tattoo snaked up around Erik’s shoulder and down his back in a frenzy of little whirlpools. The smoke trailed diagonally across Erik’s back, wrapped around his waist, over his hip, and circled his right thigh before dissipating just above the knee.
Ryan’s gaze trailed back up Erik’s body to contemplate the most important organ. It was hidden behind a scrap of red fabric, stretched taunt and threatening to burst. Erik’s bulge was just as impressive as the rest of his body. Ryan had already adjusted his previous guess based on the videos bahis firmaları he found online—now that he was confronted with it in person, he knew his adjustment was accurate. It wasn’t eight inches; it was more like nine, and probably five inches in circumference. It was huge.
Ryan tried to suppress a shudder at the thought of Erik’s size, and his asshole clenched involuntarily. They’d already discussed what roles they’d be taking, and although Ryan almost always topped in his scenes, everyone had agreed that this character in particular felt more like a bottom. Gary and Erik had been wary of asking Ryan to bottom, and he wasn’t thrilled by the idea himself, but it had felt like the right way to go.
What Ryan had never told anyone, though, was that he secretly preferred to bottom, at least he did in his private sexual encounters. Even now, knowing that the big fat cock hidden by that red jockstrap would soon be invading his ass was enough for Ryan’s cock to plump, and he shifted on his feet to alleviate the pressure.
Erik turned, his body undulating and rolling, arms raised and his head falling back as if lost to some enthralling music. Just like his front, Erik’s back was ripple after ripple of clearly defined muscle, each one glistening in oil, his tattoo a living, breathing creature that moved to its own dance across his skin. His ass, two perky mounds framed perfectly by the straps of the scrappy article of clothing.
Then he bent over, head suddenly between his calves, and piercing blue eyes peaked back at Ryan. Ryan swallowed heavily at the look in them—Erik knew he looked good, and he knew Ryan knew he looked good.
His new position left his ass lifted high in the air, cheeks spread and Ryan could see Erik’s wrinkly asshole exposed to the air. It twitched once as Erik twerked at him. In this position, Ryan could see Erik’s tattoo as it wrapped around his inner thigh, dangerously close to his most private of parts and Ryan wondered at how it must have felt to have needles piercing into such delicate skin.
Ryan’s hand ached, and he realized that he’d been clutching his glass of pretend alcohol much harder than necessary. He forced himself to relax his grip and raised the glass for a sip. It was disconcerting how the glass trembled in his unsteady hand.
Ryan slowly lowered the glass and placed it gently back on the table, eyes lowered, gathering himself for a moment before glancing back up. Erik was watching him, reading him, studying him while his body moved.
Erik’s hand floated up to his chest, two fingers rubbed at a nipple until it stood on end. The other hand lingered on his bulge, tugged and massaged. And all the while, his eyes unwaveringly focused on Ryan, drawing Ryan into the performance.
This was an act, Ryan reminded himself. They were on camera. But the way Erik looked at him, the way Erik touched his own body and danced to the silent music—it made it easy to get lost in the make-believe moment they were creating.
Erik knew how to move; Ryan certainly could appreciate that. He wondered suddenly what genre of dance Erik specialized in in his past life—Ryan made a note to ask about it. It was a weird thing to think of in the middle of a scene, but Ryan actually felt more surprised that his mind hadn’t wandered well before then.
It was a testament to how good Erik was, good enough to move Ryan from his typical appreciation for the male body, and pull him into a more primal attraction to something beautiful. There was absolutely no doubt that Erik was different from the other guys Ryan had met in the industry; the problem was, Ryan just didn’t know what he should be doing about that.
“Cut,” Gary’s voice rang out in the eerie silence of the set.
Ryan blinked a couple of times as his brain reoriented itself. Turning toward the sound of Gary’s voice, he found a giant smile on the other man’s face.
“Guys, that was amazing. Unbelievable.”
“Yeah?” Erik had slipped on a robe and was heading toward the monitor. “Let’s take a look. Ryan, you want to watch?”
“No,” Ryan answered immediately. He never watched himself.
Erik shrugged and his dimple winked at Ryan.
Ryan watched Erik watch the video they just shot. The little furrow appeared between his eyebrows, and his eyes darted back and forth, just like that time he was reading the newspaper. He was in analysis mode—gathering information, dissecting it, and drawing a conclusion before moving on to the next set of facts.
“This is good,” Erik concluded. “This is very good.”
He and Gary engaged in some sort of discussion while Ryan waited for his next instructions. Around him, the film crew made adjustments, moved equipment, and generally looked busy although Ryan wasn’t sure exactly what it was they were doing.
They ran through that scene a couple more times before moving on to the next. This time, Ryan was told to exit through the club’s back door to find Erik outside, taking a smoke break. There was some dialogue involved, kaçak iddaa which Ryan was a little nervous about. In his entire porn-making career, he never actually had dialogue that needed to be convincing. He’d already spent a couple of days making a fool of himself in front of his mirror at home, reciting lines until they didn’t feel stupid coming out of his mouth.
The first couple of times they ran the scene, Ryan would forget what he was supposed to say. Then the few times he got his lines right, Erik would burst out laughing and ruin the shot.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Erik shook his head back and forth with his mouth hanging open. “Ahh…” came a strange sound as he got the giggles out of his system.
“One more time, I’ll get it right, promise!” Erik settled himself back onto the wall and lifted his cigarette into the camera’s field of view.
“Action!” Gary called out.
“Uh, hi,” Ryan hit his mark, hands in pocket, head slightly tucked, voice shy.
“Hi,” Erik barely spared him a glance and took a long drag from his cigarette.
“Um, you’re great in there. I was watching you dance.”
“Yeah, I saw you.” Erik blew a lungful of smoke up and away from the camera.
“Uh, my name’s Roman. Roman Cox,” Ryan stuck out his hand and peaked up from under his lashes.
Erik glanced down at Ryan’s outstretched hand, as if weighing his options before slowly extending his own.
“Everett,” Ryan let the name roll around on his tongue. “That’s a nice name.”
Erik raised his eyebrows, lips twitched in a smirk. “Yeah.”
A moment of pregnant pause.
“So, Roman. What brings a nice fella like you to a place like this?”
Ryan’s head snapped up to find an amused smile on Erik’s face. “Oh, um, well, it’s kind of a weird story.”
“I’m all for weird stories, and I’ve got a couple of minutes to spare. Entertain me.”
“I’m a PhD student. I’m doing research of the psychological effects of being a go-go dancer. I’m in the process of recruiting some subject to interview.”
“Psychological effects? Like if we’re damaged by dancing practically naked in front of other men?”
“Uh, well, not damaged. That would be starting with a negative bias,” Ryan’s voice adopted the academic drone that once came so naturally to him. “But how dancing affects what the dancer thinks about himself, his relationships with others, his role in the social hierarchy. Stuff like that.”
“Right,” Erik puffed on his cigarette. “So, Roman, do you have any research subjects yet?”
Ryan let out a nervous laugh, “Not yet. I’m still looking for people who are willing to talk with me.”
Erik dropped the cigarette to the ground as he pushed away from his spot on the wall. He turned toward Ryan and took the one step to bring them inches apart. Ryan found himself raising his eyes a couple of inches to meet Erik’s taller stature. His lips parted under Erik’s intense blue gaze.
“Well, Roman. You now have one research subject.”
“What?” The word came out breathier than Ryan had anticipated.
Erik’s smile deepened in response.
“Me, Roman. I’ll be your first research subject. That is, unless you don’t want me?”
“No! No, I definitely want you.”
Erik raised one hand to hold Ryan’s chin and lowered his mouth to close the two-inch gap to Ryan’s lips. It was a quick kiss, a test kiss. When Ryan didn’t back away, Erik came back for seconds, deepening the contact, his tongue sneaking out to tease.
Ryan responded, his own tongue meeting Erik’s as they lapped and nibbled at each other. Ryan let a whimper escape his throat and angled his head to both deepen the kiss and let the camera get a better view.
Damn. Erik could kiss. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Ryan, but he somehow had not been expecting such an expert manipulation of lips and tongue. When Erik finally pulled back, Ryan was out of breath, and he wasn’t faking it. A part of him recognized the dilation of Erik’s pupils and the flush on Erik’s cheeks, and he was glad he wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss.
“Stick around, Roman. We’ll… talk… when I’m finished my shift.”
“And cut!” Gary called out.
Ryan took a step back, and a rush of cool air came between their heated bodies. A tinge of regret tugged at Ryan, which didn’t make any sense, so he ignored it. He glanced quickly at Erik and caught blues eyes staring at him and a pink tongue sneaking out to swipe at rosy lips.
Ryan knew they were both professionals who were good at their craft, but something about that kiss had nothing to do with acting.
Erik headed off to review the video with Gary, and Ryan settled into the background again. It was just acting, he told himself. This whole thing is just acting, just like every other porn movie he’s shot. It’s all just pretend. So why was he having a hard time convincing himself?
“So you guys are going to sit facing each other on the couch. Ryan, you’ll have kaçak bahis your notebook in your lap, taking notes, got it?” Gary gave them some instructions as they set up for the scene.
Ryan nodded and fiddled with the blank notebook in his hands. This scene should have been the easiest of the ones they had worked on this week—it was the only scene with actual sex in it, the only type of scene that he’d had experience with. And yet, he couldn’t shake the tickling restlessness in his limbs, or the way his stomach fluttered with nerves.
He told himself to get over it, focus on the job, and be a professional. But then Erik would shoot him a blue-eyed look, piercing past Ryan’s typical façade and set him on edge.
“Hey,” Erik’s voice whispered into Ryan’s ear, and was accompanied by his strong hands on Ryan’s shoulders, kneading at the tensions. “Are you sure you’re okay with bottoming?”
Ryan had to suppress the shiver caused by Erik’s proximity and reminder of his role in this scene. It wasn’t a role Ryan usually played in his videos, so maybe that was why he was nervous. Ryan clenched his asshole at the thought of being penetrated, and gave Erik a slight nod.
“Okay,” Erik gave Ryan another squeeze on his shoulders. “Like we discussed, just tell me if anything doesn’t feel good, okay?”
Ryan gave him another slight nod.
“Places, everyone!” Gary called out.
There were fewer people on set today, more like a typical porno shoot—just Gary and a couple of camera guys, and a couple of assistants. Ryan was back in his professorial getup, complete with vest and bowtie. Erik was again half naked, clad only in low riding sweats with the band of his briefs peaking through.
It would be a couple of minutes before they got into the real action, but Ryan took a few deep breaths to get his dick to start moving in the right direction. Studying Erik’s body helped. The baggy sweatpants contrasted with the narrowness of Erik’s waist, his Adonis lines cut deep, one adorned by wisps of his tattoo, and disappeared into the waistband of his briefs.
Erik settled himself on his side of the couch and stretched his arm across the back of the cushions. His biceps bulged at this angle and the swirling, smoky tattoo seemed to move on its own accord, twisting itself to wrap around Erik’s body.
“How do I look?”
Ryan’s eyes shot up at Erik’s question to find a knowing smirk on Erik’s lips. Cocky bastard. Ryan grinned and shrugged before taking up his position on the couch, notebook in hand.
“Here, don’t forget these,” Gary handed Ryan a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses to complete his nerdy professor look. “Ready?” he asked the two men, both of whom nodded their consent.
Gary stepped back and let the camera guys get into position.
“Everett, tell me why you wanted to be a go-go dancer?” Ryan asked.
Erik chuckled and ran a hand through his hair before answering. The movement caused his muscles to dance, and Ryan could see one of the camera guys angling to get a close up shot.
“Well, it sounded like fun,” Erik’s voice was low and lazy, his eyes half lidded and smoldering. Ryan’s tongue sneaked out to wet dry lips, and his teeth clamped down gently on his full bottom lip.
“And I heard it paid well. If you work at the right club on the right nights, the guys tip really well. Plus, I like being naked and I like dancing—it’s a turn on.” Erik shifted closer to Ryan as his spoke, every movement fluid like the smoke covering his body.
Ryan cleared his throat, and swallowed thickly. “Once you got started, was it what you expected it to be? Or was there anything surprising about the job?” He glanced down at the notebook and pretended to jot down Erik’s answer.
“It’s a lot more of a contact sport than I had anticipated.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ryan could feel the heat from Erik’s body now; their knees were touching on the couch.
“Well, a lot of guys are hands-y and they’re not shy about copping a feel when they want.”
“So they grope you when they dance?”
“Mm-hmm,” Erik murmured. He was close enough now that every breath Ryan breathed smelled like his unique scent of musk. Combined with the heat that always seemed to radiate off of Erik, it was enough to get Ryan’s dick nice and plump. Ryan shifted awkwardly to ease the pressure in his pants.
“Sometimes it’s annoying because I just want to dance, and the guy is being kind of rude. But sometimes…” Erik trailed off.
Ryan glanced up from his notebook into hypnotizing blue eyes, just inches away from his own. He coughed and reached up to adjust his fake glasses.
“Sometimes, I don’t mind,” Erik reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down Ryan’s cheek. Ryan shut his eyes and turned into the touch. “You know, I find guys in glasses really sexy. I guess I have a thing for the nerdy hot look.”
That wasn’t in the script, and it took Ryan a second to realize Erik was ad libbing. By the time he figured it out, Erik was leaning in and Ryan had just enough time to tilt his head up, gasp quietly and meet him half way.
It was a slow kiss, gentle little licks and long presses of lips against lips. No teeth.
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