Chapter 13
DANTE was practicaly chipper when they met Alek that Wednesday. He ambled inside the HotHead studio like an old friend and greeted Alek with a backslapping hug.
Griff folowed close behind, the duffel ful of gear slung over one shoulder. Half of him wanted the day to be over already; half never wanted the day to end.
Alek was as polite as always, apologizing for the cold temperatures and offering drinks.
Griff didn’t have a shot of whiskey, but only because it was 11 a.m. and he was starting to feel like a boozer. He opted for a bottle of water. The cold air was actualy nice against his hot skin. In truth, the lights in the sitting room studio were warm, and Griff knew it would get sweaty before the day was done.
Alek was shifting furniture and setting equipment. He circled back with the clipboards so the two friends could sign their agreements for the day. He nodded his approval. “And your lab work?”
Dante snapped his fingers and dug around in the duffel, puling out two wrinkled medical forms.
Griff blushed. He and Dante had gone and sat in a clinic in Chelsea to get swabs and blood drawn, like an engaged couple applying for a marriage license.
They were sexualy active men, so they were just keeping an eye out. It was overkil anyway; they were both tested regularly for the FDNY. Part of the job.
Nevertheless, when they’d booked today’s shoot, Alek had been insistent about it—for his records, he’d said. Those pieces of paper said they were free of HIV and hepatitis and the clap and SARS and whatever-the-hel else—squeaky clean and ready to rumble. Alek nodded at the forms and took them back to his desk.
While they were waiting for Alek to finish at the desk, Dante nudged Griff. “So we’re good with whatever. I mean, like, you don’t have to worry if you happen to get anything on your skin or in your mouth.” Dante fake grimaced, like he was making a joke. He wasn’t. “I don’t want you to get freaked out.”
“I won’t get freaked, D. I’m a big boy.”
“No shit.” Dante squatted next to the duffel and puled out their turnout gear. He muttered under his breath to Griff. “The whole thing today is those extended activities. For the bonuses. Folow my lead.”
“Yeah. It’s fine, D. Whatever you think. Let’s get this shit done.” Griff accepted his folded pants, trying to look like he didn’t want Dante extended and active on him.
“Okay. Cool.” Dante puled his T-shirt off, mussing his black hair. He shook his head and squinted an eye at Griff.
Griff squinted back. “You got a plan, right? You know the things you want us to do.” Dante nodded. “Al set. Al of it’s pretty harmless; I don’t want to freak you out.”
Griff realized that Dante thought his resistance was revulsion. That would help. “No freaking. Let’s just get it done, man.”
“I picked out the stuff that pays good-sized bonuses… without us, you know, having to completely queer out on each other.” God forbid.
“Sure.” Griff puled off his own shirt and pants, standing there in his boxer briefs. This seemed almost natural now. Amazing how things started to seem normal over time. This HotHead crap had loosened him up so much. That’s something, I guess. Maybe when this was over, Griff would be able to figure out how to meet a guy who actualy wanted him back.
Dante shook out his wadded bunker pants. “Whatever I do, just act like you realy, realy like it.”
“Not a problem.” And it certainly wasn’t.
“Thanks, man. I’l make it up to you. I swear.”
That’ll be the day.
Griff caled across the room to Alek. “What do you want us wearing?”
Alek looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Hmm. Just the pants, I think. Suspenders over your bare chests. Maybe your boots?”
“Helmets?” Dante bent and grabbed their helmets, holding them up on his two hands like hard puppets. “I finaly remembered to grab them.”
“Absolutely!” Alek beamed his approval. “You can discard them whenever you like, but helmets to start, definitely.” Griff took his; Dante had taped over anything identifiable. Standing in his pants and helmet and bare chest looked exactly like—
“’S’like posing for the calendar.” Dante chuckled and shot him a look.
“I wouldn’t know.” Griff shrugged, unsure how to defuse the situation.
“Wel, except for the cocksucking.”
Griff grimaced and ducked his head. He focused on getting undressed.
“Hey, Alek, you want us to, you know, weed-whack at al?” Dante tugged at his pubic hair. “Clip the curlies.”
“Uh, no. Our members prefer natural hair. Are both of you…?”
“Manscaped?” Dante smiled. “I’m fucking Italian; I been mowing my lawn since I was thirteen. My brothers taught me.” Jesus. “I’m not.” Griff’s eyes bulged. He’d never thought about trimming down there.
Dante gave his crotch a once over. “Griff’s pretty neat on his own. Scottish hedge!” He snorted.
Griff did not.
Once they were in their half-gear and helmets, Alek gestured them onto the set; he was already snapping stils and filming them from a tripod. He’d done this the last time for legal purposes, filming their signed contracts and their ID. Then he had them face the lens to state their names and ages and their permission to be filmed. “Have either of you been coerced or threatened in any way?”
Griff chuckled. “Hardly.”
Dante spoke up. “Nope. We’re here to shoot a blowjob scene for HotHead. And we’re psyched.” Whoo-hoo!
Griff had a sudden uncanny feeling that he was a game piece on an enormous, ridiculous board game with house fires and bar fights and cum-shots. He tried to think back over the steps that had led them to this room on this day doing these things for this website.
Life is so weird.
Alek looked over the paperwork. “And you have agreed to perform felatio on Mr. Muir?” Dante nodded and tapped a page of his contract. “Uh. Yeah. And we’re gonna try to do a little more too, if that’s okay.”
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Anastagio. As long as you both feel comfortable.”
Griff cracked his neck and tried to relax his shoulders. In a couple hours this would be over and Dante’s house would be safe and things would go back to normal, if that was even possible.
In the sitting room set, the coffee table was gone and the carpet area was bare. Alek snapped more pictures.
“I wanted to give you space to move around: seats, floor, wal.” Alek pointed at two cameras on high stands aimed down. “Those wil run the whole time, and I’l be walking through with this.” He held up his own compact video camera.
Alek gestured at a pile of slick magazines, women spread and pert and airbrushed. “If you need magazines. To keep yourselves hard.” Dante roled his eyes. “You kidding? My junk’s like iron, man. Once it’s up it won’t go down.”
“Often when straight models are asked to work together, it can be a problem.” Alek was giving them permission to lose their erections.
Griff decided right then to try and lose his erection at some point if it was possible. Fat fucking chance. He adjusted the helmet on his head.
“The main thing is to stay relaxed as possible. We’l take it in stages. When either of you needs a break, let me know.” Alek looked between them. Griff nodded. “Speak to me at any point. Feel free to shift position or make suggestions. I can edit around anything but your ejaculations.” Alek climbed on a short ladder to adjust a foil square bouncing light at the set. He snapped a couple shots from up there, then resumed taping.
Dante leaned over. “Hey, G. You gotta talk as much as possible. Okay? Dirty talk gives us a bump.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you want me to…?”
“Whatever feels good, tel me. Real nasty. Tel me how to suck it. Talk to me.”
Griff nodded. “I’l try.”
“Dirty as you want, man. Don’t be gentle; don’t be nice. I can take it. It’s al good, yeah?” Even in his helmet and worn bunker pants, Dante looked like a prince: the perfect profile, the soft waves of his hair.
Griff swalowed. “You got it.”
Dante stepped closer, so they were almost face to face in their pants and suspenders. “I don’t know how far I can go, but if you make me, I bet I can go further. And that’s more cash. I want to, okay? Far as you can push me.”
“I feel strange doing that, forcing you to do stuff.” Like Tommy.
“I’m asking you to.” Dante looked awkward.
Then Alek stepped close and turned them loose on the set. He welcomed them to the site and asked them to introduce themselves.
“’S’up, guys!” Dante hammed it up for the camera, leaning down into frame. He was straddling the arm of the overstuffed chair where Griff was sitting so their legs overlapped. He squeezed Griff’s shoulder roughly. “My buddy’s got a problem.” Griff knew his mouth was a tight, uncomfortable line, but he waved.
Alek knelt for a side view of the chair and signaled Dante down.
Dante waved as wel and set the scene for the fans, perched on the arm of Griff’s chair. “Uhh, hi guys. So, Duff’s girlfriend has been holding out, but he can’t cheat with some broad. Not how he rols, right? And since we’re buddies….” Dante slid off the chair arm and down to the floor. “I thought maybe I could, ya know, help out.”
His shoulders looked olive under the stark red suspenders. Then he was crouched between Griff’s spread thighs, looking up through his lashes with a bad-boy twinkle as he took off the helmet. He gingerly rested his hands on Griff’s knees and waited for permission. “This okay, man?” Griff gave a grunt of assent and then realized Alek wanted him to use words. “Fucking great.” He licked his dry lips.
Dante leaned forward over his torso, close enough that warmth bounced between them.
With half-lidded eyes, Griff watched Dante lift a hand and run it over his rust-furred chest, brushing the pink nipples so that they tightened and peaked. He could feel Dante’s breath on his colarbone. He felt drugged by the spiraling pleasure, like he was bound to the chair, Dante’s captive. His cannon surged inside his bunker pants. He shifted his butt in the chair, enjoying the delicious ache. There wasn’t even whiskey in his veins to blame.
“That feels fuckin’ crazy,” Griff murmured.
Dante looked up at him, surprised, and then hooked his mouth into a dirty smile. He nodded and leaned over to suck lightly on Griff’s tit.
Alek stepped around to the side, camera angled down at Dante grazing over the chiseled slope of Griff’s pectorals. He gave them a thumbs-up.
Ka-ching! Griff practicaly heard Alek’s thumb jingle like a cash register. Dirty talk would mean a bigger bonus. Everybody would get something they wanted if Griff just fucking gave in to temptation.
Be with him. Be grateful. Be brave.
So Griff held Dante’s head with his wide hand, threading his fingers through the curls to tug that wine-stain mouth to his other pale pec. He thought about Tommy being manhandled in that aley and squeezed tighter, yanking Dante’s hair.
Groaning at the pressure, Dante nuzzled and nursed hungrily at him, biting and licking at both sensitive nubs until they stood hard and rosy under the red suspenders. Griff let Dante raise his arm and lick his pit. Dante pushed his face right into the bright hairs buried there and licked the sensitive skin hard.
Griff shivered. “Different than a chick, huh?” Dante’s mouth made him jerk pleasurably like he was having a seizure.
Dante nuzzled and sucked at his pit until Griff yanked his head to the other side and raised that arm, offering the other muscular holow for the same treatment.
Dante dove in hungrily. When he raised his dark eyes, Dante was panting and his swolen mouth was wet. “So different. So fucking strong.” Alek pushed in close, zooming in on Dante’s wet tongue as it slicked the bright hair under Griff’s massive arms, then over the swolen biceps.
Griff watched his friend act hungry. “You’re eating it, man. Does it taste good?”
Dante pushed his wet face back into his friend’s brawny chest, rubbing against the crisp red hair like a cat. He was talking under his breath. “I thought about it. At the firehouse. In the shower, in the bunk, in the damn rig….”
More porn bulshit. Griff could almost hear the invisible bonus meter roling: ka-ching, ka-jing-ching.
He moaned anyway. He didn’t care if it was a lie, and his dick didn’t know the difference. He took hold of Dante’s hand roughly, dragging it back to the wad of meat flaring his zipper.
Griff’s voice was hoarse and urgent. “I’m right here, man. You don’t have to think about it.” Then he stood over his best friend, forcing his head back, and recited state capitals silently to keep himself from getting hard too fast.
Think about anything else. Don’t watch him. Don’t shoot in sixty seconds.
Dante squeezed his basket carefuly, mapping it through the quilted fabric. His eyes were locked below the curl of cinnamon that circled Griff’s navel and plunged out of sight. “Fuck, dude. Meat and potatoes.”
Alek knelt to get a tight profile of Dante worshipping the monster.
I can do this.
Griff’s blush washed hot across his shoulders and chest, thankfuly out of frame, baking his face with excruciating shyness. “C’mon, buddy. Don’t be shy.” Dante popped a button with shaking fingers.
“Not like that. Use your fucking mouth.” Again he puled at Dante’s head.
Dante’s eyes flicked up to his. An imperceptible nod told Griff he was playing this exactly right.
Good boy.
Dante pressed his Roman profile into the crotch of the pants, searching for the zipper with his tongue. He caught it and bit down, tugging it between his gleaming teeth. The thick, hooded shaft sprang forward, dabbing Dante’s cheek.
“Good boy….” Griff dropped one of his suspenders so only one strap, his erection, and the high curve of his asscheeks were holding his pants up.
A purring sound below him. Dante was making a low rumble of pleasure in his chest. Then, without warning, Dante pushed him hard so that he fel back onto the leather throne, knees splayed, his bals pooling on the leather. His helmet was knocked loose and spun on the carpet like an upended turtle.
“Hey!”
“Yeah, right.” Dante sank to his knees and snorted. “Like you can’t take it. Like I can’t.” Griff stroked his wide erection. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“You have no idea, man.”
Somewhere behind Dante, Alek shifted position, but everything had telescoped to the two of them. Just them. Griff gripped the arms of the chair.
Dante reached out and squeezed Griff’s boner til the veins stood out in blue relief. He opened his mouth and went for it, his dark head bobbing at Griff’s lap.
I wish I could see his eyes.
For a minute the only noise was the lights humming and the muffled suckling that sounded as good as it felt. Griff’s eyes and mouth opened in warning. Dante began to turn red, struggling to breathe around the intruder.
Griff pushed him back, glaring at Alek. “Wait. Wait. Time! Time out.”
Just like that, Dante coughed and puled off and looked up, blinking. He rocked back on his heels, drooling and eyes wild. He stood, rocking his weight.
Griff sighed in relief. He’d been close. Too close. He shrugged out of the other suspender and caught his breath.
Dante paced around the room. He looked a little skeeved and panicky.
Uhh, duh?
Dante unbuttoned his own turnout pants and tugged the zipper down. His own dick was half-hard. He strode back to Griff and sank to his knees again between the beefy thighs. He nodded at Alek to continue and puled off Griff’s heavy boots. He shucked the pants too, stripping Griff buck-ass naked on the black chair.
“Roling.” Alek was keeping quiet and giving them plenty of space, like they were an endangered species visiting his zoo.
Griff squinted a silent question at Dante. You okay?
Dante reached for Griff’s freckled hands, puling them to the back of his own curly head.
What was he doing? What did he want?
In reply, Dante pushed Griff’s fingers into his hair around the back of his head and strained forward, forcing the rosy cock into his face.
He wants me to fuck his mouth. To force him.
Griff blushed and looked down at his friend. His Neanderthal dick had no problem with the idea.
Down on the floor, Dante was waiting for him to take charge, suckling at Griff’s meat with wet abandon… but he needed Griff to make him take it.
Griff squeezed Dante’s head with spread hands, lacing his broad fingers through the scorched silk of his wavy hair.
Dante gave a little nod and took a breath. Like he was getting ready to run into a blaze.
Griff flexed his heavy arms and puled Dante’s handsome face toward his fiery pubes. He driled into slippery heat.
A gasp to the side made him glance over at Alek holding the camera on his knees trying to cover what was happening. The Russian had a boner in his chinos.
Griff shook his head and tried to ignore the other man’s presence the way Dante obviously could. He hunched deeper.
Dante gave a grunt of approval, and the vibration shivered along the fat shaft straining inside his mouth. He breathed through his nostrils and seemed fine until the wide head nudged the back of his throat. He jerked in surprise and puled off.
“Sorry.” Griff knew this was impossible.
“Bulshit, man. Hefty.” Dante stretched his mouth enough to scream and stuck out his tongue, like it had cramped. “Just didn’t expect….”
“I don’t want to gag you, dumbass.”
“I’m sturdy. Push me down on it. I gotta big mouth.”
Griff laughed at that. “No shit.”
Dante laughed too. “You’re not gonna hurt me. I practiced.”
He what?!
“The fuck you did!”
“Are you kidding? I’m not retarded. After last time, I knew what kinda punishment I was in for. I can take it. Make me.” Dante glanced sideways at the camera.
Sure enough, on the sidelines, Alek nodded and gave another ka-ching thumbs-up. He’d caught al that on camera.
Shit! Maybe he’d edit it out?
Fat chance, fuckwit.
Then Dante was swalowing around his ful length again, and Griff’s eyes closed.
Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.
After a few moments, Griff realized that Alek had stopped filming and was watching them with his hand covering his own erection. “If you’d like to try something else, I have plenty of footage of the felatio.”
But Dante sat back on his heels and his dick arched out of the yawn of his zipper. “Fuck that! We’re not done. Huh, G?” He looked pissed and his eyes were watering. He coughed and cleared his throat. “I’m fine. I’m just not used to it. I think I can get him off like that. No hands. That’d be cool, huh?”
“Certainly, but I was just going to suggest—”
“Gimme a sec. It’s a tusk. Lemme try….” Dante leaned over the arm of the chair and pushed onto the erection from above, the angle easier, apparently. He hummed in triumph. He maneuvered himself until he was curled across the arm and back of the leather chair angled over Griff’s torso so he could keep his mouth where it could do the most damage.
Griff felt something nudge his ear and realized Dante’s hips were next to his face. The loose bals draped over one tawny thigh, the curve of his hard-on bobbing in the air just eight inches from Griff’s lips. Dante’s hips twitched.
Medium-rare. Dante’s dick is exactly the color of medium-rare. Griff’s face drew closer to the head. A couple more inches and it would be in his mouth.
He knew Dante could feel his breath ghosting over it; the glossy skin was hypnotic. Al he had to do was open his mouth and he could touch it with his tongue, taste it. Almost…. He raised his hand tentatively and stroked it lightly.
Dante twisted up to look through thick sooty lashes at his dick angled a few inches from Griff’s pink mouth, making sure Griff was sure.
Griff shook his head and bit his lip, but he didn’t let go. “Wel… I feel weird just sitting here.” Thumbs-up from Alek: ka-ching! Ka-ching-a-jing!
“You don’t have to,” Dante whispered up at him.
“It’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s more dough, right?” Yeah, that makes sense. Griff felt like a scumbag, but he had to taste it while he had the chance.
Dante nodded and grunted permission.
Griff gripped the rigid bone and ran his tongue up the length to taste the salty crown. The musk exploded in his mouth.
Perfect.
“Ohhh.” Dante clenched his toes and dropped his face back onto Griff’s meat.
Somewhere off to the side, it sounded like Alek stood and circled around them, snapping stils. He crouched closer to film from the new angle, missing nothing.
The cock in Griff’s mouth surged, veins standing out in firm relief. It felt like he was about to… Dante was coming already?! Wasn’t it too soon? Griff felt cold air on his own shaft as Dante reared up and gasped.
“Alek?”
“I’m here. Do it.” Alek squatted and leaned over them.
Dante roled onto his back on the arm of the chair, dropped his head back so his hair swung toward the floor. He snapped his hips forward, crunching his abs hard… then— pow-pow—blew his load over his etched torso. The semen ran toward the holow of his throat til he sat up, smiling.
Confused, Griff caught Dante’s eye to figure out what the hel he was supposed to do. Was it over already?
Dante winked over at him. “I couldn’t stop myself, man. Don’t worry; I’m good for more. I promise.” He was going for a twofer. Cocky son of a bitch. He was gonna bust twice for another bonus. Chest heaving, Dante ran his fingers down to scrape some cum off his torso and sucked his fingers clean. He seemed to fucking love the taste, or at least he made a show of it for the camera.
Griff could almost imagine the porno taxi-meter roling in his mind. Ka-ching. Game show pleasure: I’ll take eating semen for another two hundred!
But not al of it.
Dante had something dirtier in mind. He gathered the rest of his spunk and used it to lube Griff’s own erection. The feeling was indescribable. And then
— holy Christ—Dante started sucking his own hot cream off Griff’s shaft.
Eating it! Eating it!
The sight and the smel made Griff insane. He squirmed in the chair, sliding in his own sweat down the leather, arms wrapped around Dante’s flexed back to keep him pinned close. Griff couldn’t stop himself fucking Dante’s face hard, making him take it, pile driving his face.
And Dante just folowed him al the way down, hanging over the chair arm, grunting and slobbering at his meat, riding him as he slipped to the floor—the whole long slide down.
Finaly Griff’s ass was on the carpet, his knees braced wide, Dante’s crow-black locks floating and tickling between them. “That’s it. Eat every fucking drop, man. Clean up your mess.” Had he said that out loud?
Then Griff folowed suit, cleaning Dante’s wet meat.
Dante nodded in approval and encouragement. He swung his legs off Griff’s chest onto the floor so they were nursing at each other.
The only sound was the murmur and slurp of them tasting each other’s pleasure. Like they were alone. Like Griff had wanted. Like they were together. Like this was real.
Ka-ching! Alek flashed another thumb.
I’ll take Classic 69 and semen-swapping for $300.
Dante jerked. “Easy! Sensitive….” He gripped Griff’s wood and milked it. “Feels like it got bigger.” Griff groaned. “You’re making it bigger, man.”
They shouldn’t be doing this here. Griff looked over at Alek behind the camera.
The Russian was sweating and standing stock stil. Obviously they were putting on quite a show that was getting out of control. How long had they been going?
Dante opened his mouth and sucked Griff’s blushing knob inside, humming as he slid down it.
Griff’s hands went to the back of his head again and gripped it hard. He pushed forward into Dante’s throat, trying not to feel like a pig.
He asked me to.
Then Griff felt his firm helmet pop fuly into Dante’s slippery throat; the muscles spasmed around the ridge. He counted backward from a thousand, praying he wouldn’t blow before things had even started.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi….
Breathing through his nose, Dante stayed on it, impaled on his friend’s shaft, pushing his face in the red hair for as long as he could… then choked and puled off. “Wow. Deep.”
“Sorry.”
But Dante just crammed it back into his mouth, grunting and licking at Griff until his toes curled, completely focused on Griff’s pleasure, it seemed.
“His hair.” Alek peeked out from behind the camera to nod at Griffin.
“Oh.” Griff took a handful of the midnight curls and held them out of the way so the members wouldn’t miss Dante licking his glistening shaft and nuzzling at his tight pink bals. He could see Dante’s hard-on jerking in midair, untouched and stiff as an axe-handle again… like he wasn’t grossed out.
Sure.
Griff pushed up with his back against the leather armchair and relaxed a little, letting his muscular thighs fal open a bit as Dante crawled toward him, folowing a wicked smile. Dante’s head lowered toward the bright bush above his rod, inhaling.
Did he just smell me?
And then Dante did it again, smeled him deliberately, eyes half-lidded… taking a deep lungful of his scent before pushing that patrician nose under the floppy pink of his bals and taking a lick. Dante hooked arms underneath Griff’s meaty thighs and lifted them, roling his ass up.
Is he really gonna…?
From up close, Griff watched his pole flex and the foreskin slip back from the slippery head. Beyond it, Dante’s dark head rooted lower between his legs, over the hard ridge behind his bals, and then that long tongue swiped the tight iris of his asshole.
Thank you, O gods of extended activities!
Precum beaded and ran down Griff’s cock as it pulsed into a straining boner, jerking with his heartbeat, aimed at his flushed face. Fighting back an insane giggle, Griff had a flash of Dante from some long-ago fight: “Kiss my ass, man! Kiss. My. Ass.” Yes, please.
And then, Holy Mother of God, he did. Dante pressed the ful firm length of his tongue into his crack, taking a long lick of the pale furrow.
Dante’s eyes were smoky on the other side of his rosy club. “So smooth. Your skin tastes….” The end of the sentence smeared into the clenching muscle of his ass.
Alek shifted to the left, so the camera could catch Dante’s tongue, the hole, and Griff’s fat pole leaking into his copper-fuzzed navel.
Too soon! Too soon!
Griff choked. “Wait!”
But Dante didn’t listen, wouldn’t listen; he was puling the firm cheeks apart with those rough hands; he pressed his tongue inside Griff.
Griff’s eyes roled back into his head, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of that perfect, probing tongue from the inside. Fire licked along his limbs. His mouth was open in shock, and crazy sounds were coming out of him.
“I can’t… I can’t….” Griff’s legs started to shake and nonsense poured out of his mouth and his dick was going pale purple and— oh Christ—he made a low barking sound as his pleasure burst out of him and wet coils of semen arched up and up and over his sweaty torso— splat, splat—running over his pecs and in the grooves of his abdominals. His rapid breath hissed through his teeth as he panted and tried to come back.
Alek said something under his breath in Russian and sat back to adjust the lump under his cords. A wet spot. He’d spooged in his pants just from watching them together.
“You okay?” Dante looked up at him from between his thighs, his voice muffled against Griff’s ass and bals.
“Uh-huh.” Griff was afraid to say anything that might change anyone’s mind. He nodded and gave a smal, anxious smile.
Dante’s cock was rigid and medium-raring to go again. He must have been jerking it while he licked to make it look like he loved pushing his face into Griff’s cleft.
“Let me suck yours some more. I’m real close again.”
The fuck? What bonus is that?
Dante flipped around so he could get at Griff’s softening meat while he kneaded his own. He milked a last drop out of Griff and licked it with a flat swipe of his tongue.
Griff yelped, his glans supersensitive. “Careful.”
Dante let up a little, cleaning the semen off of it with patient, relentless absorption.
Griff shook with the squirmy bliss of it, wanting to make Dante stop and terrified he would. A few more minutes of that and he was going to get hard again too. He reached over and grabbed a handful of Dante’s curved boner.
Dante puled his mouth free. “Thanks, man. Your hand’s so much better. That’s it! Yeah. You’re gonna make me nut again.” Dante reached down and stretched his tightening nutsack, but Griff pushed his hand out of the way and tightened his own grip, making the orbs bulge. He couldn’t believe that didn’t hurt. Apparently not.
Dante was panting against him, humping his hand, straining for a second climax, begging for help .
“Almost… almost… I can do it. Agh. Just pul my bals. Tug on ’em. Harder. Get me there. Yeaahhh.” Dante hunched forward with his lean hips, Griff’s soft cockhead bumping against his open lips. His tongue swiped out again to taste the pearl of juice on the tip. Dante’s eyes squeezed shut, as he strained.
Griff stretched out with his face over Dante’s bely and let his buddy fuck his big paw while he squeezed those silky bals in the other—just on the edge of hurting. The head of Dante’s perfect erection filed his vision. He squeezed the heavy bals one last time, barely past painful. Dante hissed and the veins stood out along his shaft. Very slowly, Griff dragged that glossy knob over his stubbled cheek milimeter by milimeter. Sweet torture for both of them. His nuts flexed in Griff’s hand, and Griff let go of them so they could pul up tight and give everything up.
A cry built and burst from Dante’s mouth, which was stil open around Griff’s wide pink cockhead. Griff sat back on his heels to watch the explosion.
“Awwggh!” Just like that, with a hoarse below, Dante sprayed hot candy rain over his slick torso, spasming and grunting in satisfaction. As Dante bucked on the floor, a drop of semen splattered Griff’s cheek and ran down his cheek next to his mouth, but he didn’t have the nerve to taste. Instantly mindful of the camera catching them, Griff kept his mouth firmly closed.
One bonus I won’t share. Mine.
Dante shuddered, and shivered and relaxed by degrees. “Per-fucking-fection.” His ribcage glistened, rising and faling as he tried to catch his runaway breath.
Griff propped himself up on one arm, conscious of the hot drop on his face and of Alek making sure he got everything on video, snapping a chain of stils.
A silvery trail ran down Dante’s cumgutters toward the carpet. Griff almost leaned forward to clean—
Stop.
“What are you laughing at, ya fuckin’ mook?” Dante’s eyes were smiling and his mouth curled up into a kind of happy grimace. He reached forward and squeezed Griff’s calf hard. Griff yelped and laughed too before roling away from the grasp of those caloused hands.
They were literaly steaming. Their skin was so hot that steam was rising from them in the cold air.
“Wel now, gentlemen,” Alek murmured and swept the camera over their wet bodies, the puddles of semen, the flexing muscle pink and gold. “You seem to have been inspired.”
Griff had almost forgotten they had an audience. He puled himself to his feet and watched Dante play to the camera.
The cocky son of a bitch turned the ful wattage of his charm at the lens as he stood up, steaming and slick. “I was so fucking horny, man. And his girl’s been holding out… you know how it is. You felas ain’t upset, right, if we got a little carried away?”
“No. A lot carried. More than I imagined possible. Yes? It was phenomenal.” Alek let the camera glide between the two of them like they were connected by invisible threads. Like he could see what Griff kept hidden. “I had not expected….”
“You mean the rimming?” Dante shrugged. “I never rimmed a dude before, but an ass is an ass, right? I mean, I licked a girl’s butthole before. Mine gets licked plenty.”
Griff didn’t say anything. What could he say? He wasn’t sure if he should feel pleased at the compliment or jealous of the girls who had tasted better. What the fuck is happening?
“Hel, I love ass.” Dante squeezed Griff’s rump for a second while Griff stayed frozen. “Besides, this one wasn’t complaining.” He grinned at his best friend like they were talking about the junk food.
Alek turned the camera on Griff, the wet splotch dark on his cords. “You appeared to enjoy it a great deal.” Griff blushed and shook his head. “Nobody ever did that to me before.” I can’t believe I just admitted that. I can’t believe I had to. The flush swept up his neck and into his face.
Dante looked flabbergasted. “Realy?! Jeez. You been dating the wrong chicks.”
Alek stepped back so he could get them on screen together. “So it seems you both pushed the boundaries a little today. Your HotHead education continues.”
“Or something? I guess.” Griff couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. And on camera. His ears burned as he looked at the floor for his street clothes.
“Felt good, right?” Dante’s matter-of-factness left no room for embarrassment. “My ass is real sensitive too.” Then, to the lens, “I don’t know about you guys, but it makes me crazy.”
“Sh-yeah….” Griff’s legs felt shaky stil; if he sat down he’d never get up.
“So perhaps you both might be wiling to come back and experiment further.” Alek was pushing them for a sexy finish. He wanted them to flirt with the camera and say more porno crap about how much they loved having weird men spank their shanks watching them.
Dante seemed to know exactly what he wanted. He stepped next to Griff and wrapped one damp arm around Griff’s waist and waved at the World Wide Web. “Maybe we wil…. See ya later, HotHeads!”
Griff waved too, like a naked robot, but he couldn’t realy work up a smile.
Finaly Alek kiled the goddamn camera. “Very wel done, gentleman. Beyond my wildest hopes for you.” He sauntered back to the row of computers on the front wal and set the camera on the desk.
“Fuck! Fuckety-fuck, man!” Dante looked annoyed and swatted Griff. “Wait, Alex. Turn the camera back on! I meant to kiss. Shit. We were gonna—”
“Sorry.” Griff shook his head but wasn’t sorry. His heart actualy squeezed with relief. Somehow letting Alek see them be tender seemed too intimate.
“Next time, gentlemen. If you’d be wiling to share.” Alek wasn’t disappointed at al. “That is something I and about ten milion other men would love to see.” Stil naked, Dante made a beeline for Alek at the desk. “We did some extra stuff though. There are bonuses, right?”
“Indeed!” Alek gave a bark of pleased laughter and nodded. He passed their envelopes to Dante and puled out his walet. Without hesitating he counted out fifteen extra $100 bils. “And you both deserve a tip besides for showmanship. That was… magical.” Dante’s eyes widened and he nodded at Griff. They’d made almost a third again what they’d expected. Dante was in the clear. He was safe.
Griff let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
For you. For you.
“Now, since it seems that you have no anxiety about anal play, I wonder if you could both be convinced to take things a bit further; I would offer a substantial incentive—”
“No!” Griff hadn’t meant to cut him off. The word just came out.
“Not right now.” Dante smoothed over the blunt rejection. “You know? Let’s see how it goes.”
“There are several options. Either of you could be paired with another model, of course. Or if you’d prefer to work together again, we could see about crossing some boundaries.”
Dante shook his head. “Yeah. No. I think we crossed plenty of boundaries the past few. Griff’s been real patient with me, but I think we’re gonna hold off.”
“Fair enough.” Alek looked them both over like prize buls at auction. “You two are an exceptional asset to the website. Genuine heroes.”
“Nah.” Dante blinked and pointed at Griff. “He’s a hero. I’m a disaster.”
“Yeah, other way round, D.” Griff huffed in embarrassment, puling on his jeans.
Alek was checking the footage on the cameras, his face thoughtful. “Even so, heroes need disasters, don’t they? And vice versa. You’re something of a hero yourself, Mr. Anastagio.”
“Hardly.” Dante was shutting down as he had after his first scene for the site. His face grew hard and guarded like he regretted everything and knew he’d made a mistake he couldn’t take back. His eyes flicked up at Griff anxiously.
Each man chewed on his own guilt and disgust.
That was the worst for Griff, Dante’s shame afterwards, when he felt like a worthless piece of meat. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.
Dante was already stomping into his sneakers and stuffing the gear into the duffel, ready to split. “This big bastard saves me every damn day. You don’t know.”
Alek swiveled in his chair and considered Griff. “And I imagine you’ve had some disastrous moments in your young life, Mr. Muir.” He cocked his shaved head and measured Griff, picking at the seams of his grief and his loyalty and his hopeless desire.
He knows.
Sadness ghosted over Alek’s brow, clouded his blue eyes. “It’s impossible to be your own hero, yes?” In that moment, Griff realized that Alek knew exactly what he was trying to hide, that he had seen the desire and pain arcing between them like lightning. He saw Griff’s raw heart.
“Huh, yeah.” Griff knew what he was trying to say but had zero interest in having it said in front of Dante.
The man in question stood waiting for Griff, itching to go and take a scalding shower to wash this day off.
Alek pressed. “You are both fortunate to have a friend that is wiling and able to perform the odd rescue. And many people would cal this an odd rescue.” Alek laughed.
They didn’t.
Time to go.
By the door, Dante was vibrating with anxiety and determined to beat up on himself. He laughed without pleasure. “Nah. I’m shit creek and he’s the paddle.” Alek smiled at them both with gentle affection. “Or maybe you’re smoke and he’s fire?” Dante’s chuckle died. “Huh. May be.”
Before anyone said anything else, Griff crammed his foot into the other shoe and shrugged into his shirt.
By the time he reached the door, Dante was already picking his way back through the maze of boxes outside it toward the elevator.
Griff paused and turned back to say goodbye, knowing he’d see sympathy in Alek’s face.
Alek waved goodbye, and there it was. He knew and Griff knew he knew. Regret plucked the ringing, stinging air between them.
Thank you for keeping my secret.
Alek nodded and pursed his lips. They understood each other.
Griff saluted without smiling and headed through the dimness toward Dante and the sound of the elevator grinding its way upstairs to fetch them home.