If I didn’t know the video of me and Tank is doing so damn well, I’d be seriously worried about getting called into the office. I’m not often at the studio when I’m not in a shoot, and I can’t remember Bear ever calling me in for just a talk before. Have I even been to his office since my audition interview? Maybe once to change my address or something, but that’s it.

I ponder it on the ride over. Rebel told me Ballsy Boys is doing well enough to put him on the payroll full-time. Layoffs aren’t likely then, and even if the boss wanted to lose some boys, I’m sure it wouldn’t be me. I’ve been here a while, and I know my videos do well.

I’ve never had anything blow up the way my video with Tank did, though. Rebel said they had to seriously upgrade the server capacity because too many people were watching it and trying to download it at the same time. As Campy joked, me and Tank broke the Internet.

I wonder what it was about the video that resonated. Sure, Tank is a big, hairy dude, and watching him fuck the shit out of someone is usually fun, but it’s not like the contrast between him and me is that big in terms of body type.

He’s a little taller than me and a hell of a lot more muscled, but I’m not some fragile twink. I top as much as I bottom, and so far, my flip-fuck videos have proven to be most popular, especially the ones with Rebel and Campy. So why do people enjoy watching Tank fuck me so much?

Granted, the script was perfect considering the natural animosity between Tank and me. That was pure genius on Rebel’s part, to capitalize on that. And though I haven’t been able to watch the video—I have no desire to see the all-too-evident proof of my humiliation—I’m sure it was plenty hot. Love and hate may be on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, but they provide plenty of sparks. A rage fuck still makes for a great fuck, right?

I spot his bike when I park my car. He was asked to come in as well? I know he’s not doing a scene, ‘cause I checked the schedule this morning. Not that I was interested specifically in Tank’s schedule, hell no, but I was kinda curious what Rebel had planned for him after our shoot. Apparently, nothing, because neither of our names were on there.

He’s already in Bear’s office when I walk in, and so are the boss and Rebel. I plonk myself down on a chair, giving Tank a little courtesy nod. His head moves maybe a quarter of an inch in response. Fuckwad.

“Thanks for coming in, guys,” Bear says. He shoots Rebel a look that I can’t decipher, and Rebel takes a deep breath.

“So, as you know the video we shot with the two of you is doing really well. It’s going viral, I guess you could say, and we’ve had a bunch of other sites asking us for permission to show it as well.”

And suddenly, I know what’s coming because it’s so damn obvious, and I sigh inwardly. Holy fucking hell. Of all the videos I’ve made, why did this one have to be so fucking popular?

I peek at Tank, and his face is even more grumpy than usual, so my guess is he knows, too. Will he say yes? I so very much want to say no, but I know I’ll do it if they offer enough of a bonus—and they will, if the sales figures are that good.

“You wanna do another video,” I break into Rebel’s somewhat long-winded monologue. “With us.”

Yup, there's an us now. I can barely suppress the urge to barf at the thought.

“Yes,” Rebel says. “We wanna do a follow up shoot with the same characters, same storyline. It would build on what we did before.”

I force myself to say the words. “Sure, no problem.”

Tank holds up a finger. “Hold on, fuckboy, they’re not done asking yet.”

I grind my teeth. God, I want to smack him so bad my hands physically itch. He’s right, though, and that infuriates me even more.

Rebel clears his throat. “Yeah, so we’re not asking you for one more video. We wanna do a series of ten shoots, each building on the storyline and characters that we did in the first one.”

“Ten shoots?” My voice raises to a level that’s not exactly indoor voice anymore, and Rebel visibly cringes. Right now, I don’t care. He’s my fucking friend, so how the hell can he propose I get fucked by the enemy not once, but ten times in a row? Fucking traitor.

“Will you shut your fucking trap for once, so he can actually finish his proposal? Or do I need to shove my cock down your throat again to prevent you from running your mouth?” Tank explodes. He shoots me a look so dark it would make milk sour, and I do shrink a little in my chair.

“I’d like to see you try,” I mumble indignantly, but Tank’s attention has already shifted back to Rebel.

“Right,” Rebel says. “We do have some conditions if you decide to sign the contract, but we’ve listed them all in this document.”

He hands both me and Tank a sheet of paper. I glance through it quickly. Ten shoots, one a week. We have final say in the sexual acts in the scripts, as usual. There’s the expected clauses that are in our original contract with Ballsy Boys as well, but then my eye catches something I’m not expecting. A quick intake of breath tells me Tank is reading it too.

Oh, God, this is perfect. It’s like Christmas morning, disguised as a few legal terms on a sheet of paper. They could not have made this deal sweeter for me if they tried. The smile that’s already on my face broadens when I see the financial compensation. That will go a long way toward my tuition fund. I’m so in.

“Where do I sign?” I say, barely making an effort to suppress my smile.

“Let’s wait for Tank,” Rebel says. He’s biting his bottom lip, and I can understand why. Shit’s about to go down.

Tank looks up from the document, narrows his eyes. “You want me to…” His voice is low and full of anger.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘bottom’, Tank. You’re gonna have to spread those legs for me and let me have a go at your hairy ass.” This is pure gold, not kidding. The anger radiating off him could warm my apartment for a week, if not longer.

“I’m not bottoming for him,” Tank growls.

Rebel straightens his shoulders. “Then the deal is off. We can’t film nine more videos with only you going at him. Our fans know Brewer is vers, and they don’t like him bottoming only. Plus, we’ve had tons of requests over the years for you to bottom, as you damn well know. This would be the perfect reason for you to do it.”

“Not with him.” Tank is practically spitting out the words.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tank, grow a pair,” Bear explodes. He shoots out of his chair and slams his fist on his desk. “Fuck, what are you, in middle school?”

He takes a deep breath, presumably to calm himself down again, and he sits down in his chair again. His eyes are still blazing, though, and I feel their impact even though they’re shooting daggers at Tank and not me.

“This is a non-negotiable part of the deal. Either be a pro and sign it, or walk away from a fuckload of money. I won’t ever pressure you into doing something you don’t want, you know that better than anyone. But if you’re willing to bottom, but just not with Brewer, you need to seriously adjust your attitude. I’m not running an afterschool club here, man. Do your fucking job.”

I can’t resist throwing a little fuel on the fire. “I have no problem with that clause whatsoever,” I say sweetly.

Bear shifts his head and focuses that deadly stare on me. “Keep baiting him and we’ll add a clause you won’t like, just to level the playing field.”

That shuts me up quickly, because Bear knows the kind of stuff I hate doing.

“Fine,” Tank snaps. He yanks a pen out of a pen holder on Bear’s desk and signs the contract with an angry scrawl. “There. Done. Let me know where and when to show up.”

Seconds later, he’s out the door.

I sign my contract in a more subdued way, still smiling at the poetic justice of it all. “Here you go,” I say as I hand it to Bear. “I’m gonna thoroughly enjoy fucking the shit out of him.” God, I’m practically rubbing my hands as I’m picturing it.

“Brewer,” Rebel says quietly. “I’m not sure if he’s ever bottomed before.”

I shrug. “I know that. He’s a strict top with us.”

Rebel shakes his head. “No, Brew, I don’t mean on video, I mean ever. I don’t think he’s ever bottomed before. You need to go easy on him. I think he’s scared to death.”

Scared? Tank? Now those are two words I’d never expected to hear in the same sentence. My smile falters as reality hits. “I can’t take his virginity in a shoot,” I say, my stomach sinking.

Rebel gives me a watery smile. “I was hoping you’d come to that conclusion. You have a couple of weeks, because the scripts for the next few shoots still have him topping you.”

How the hell am I gonna convince Tank he needs to let me fuck his hairy ass before this shoot? He’s never gonna admit he’s scared, so what reason can I use? I honestly have no fucking clue.