My jaw clenches as I watch Brewer flirt his way around the club. Shallow pretty boy, conceited fuckboy, immature assclown. Take your pick, they all apply to Brewer. The world is his ass buffet, and we’re all on the menu.

Arrogant prick.

Brewer throws his head back and laughs at something the man on his arm is saying. Then, he turns around and wiggles his ass to receive a hearty slap from his companion.

I scoff and turn back to my beer. It must be nice to think everything is such a joke, to go through life like it’s nothing but a party, to get everything handed to you on a silver platter.

Self-centered asshole.

“How’s it going, man?” Rebel asks, helping himself to the stool beside me at the bar.

I guess Rebel and I are what you’d call work friends. But, when your “work” is sucking and fucking on camera, you end up awfully close to your…coworkers.

Rebel recently took a step back from performing to take on a more creative and directing roll with Ballsy Boys Studios, and I couldn’t be happier for him. He was great on camera, with incredible stamina, a hefty cock, and a smoldering look that men and women went apeshit over. But he went and fell in love, so I can understand why he wouldn’t want to keep fucking for money when he’s got a man at home waiting for him. Rebel has a knack for setting up scenes and choosing the perfect angles. He seems passionate about the behind the camera work.

“It’s going,” I answer, tilting my beer in his direction.

Some of these guys—like Rebel and Brewer—they’re lifers. They love the porn industry. For me, it’s a way to pay the bills while I’m putting myself through my architecture and engineering degree. I’m going to design bridges one day, and if I have to suck some dick to cover the cost of classes, that’s not exactly a hardship. The way I see it, I’d be doing it anyway, but this way I can finish with no student loans. I love to fuck, and this pays a hell of a lot more than your average part-time job, so it’s a win-win.

“How are you feeling about the shoot I set up for you tomorrow?” Rebel asks cautiously.

In the two years I’ve been with Ballsy Boys, I’ve never filmed a scene with Brewer. I don’t think Bear had the balls to put us together, fearing one of us would end up in the hospital. Considering I can’t even look at his smug fucking face without wanting to put my fist in it, I think that’s a fair bet. Apparently, Rebel is willing to risk it.

“Feeling great. I can’t wait to take my frustration out on that tight ass of his. Plus, he won’t be able to run that mouth with my cock shoved in it.”

Rebel’s smile widens. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Rebel claps me on the back.

I finish my beer and close out my tab.

“Are you leaving already?” a young voice asks from behind me.

I turn around to see Pixie, our token twink at Ballsy Boys. He’s a good kid and one of the newest members of the crew. There’s something sweet and innocent about him I find endearing, even if I’ll never tell him that.

I grunt an affirmative response. His face falls a little, and I actually feel like a huge dick. He’s been trying to make friends since he started a few months ago. But the thing is, I’m not a warm fuzzies kind of guy. It’ll be better for the kid in the long run if he realizes now he’s barking up the wrong tree.

Heart catches my eye from a little farther down, where he’s talking to Campy and Bear, and he gives me a little wave. Aside from Pixie, Heart is the other newest Ballsy Boy. He’s quickly become a fan favorite with his tattoos, bad boy persona, and the intense expressions he makes in scenes. I don’t even know how many gifs I’ve seen of Heart’s O face. Campy has been with the studio about as long as I have, but he’s even more closed off than I am, if that’s possible. He’s a mystery, and he seems happy to keep it that way. And, of course, there’s Bear. He’s the owner of Ballsy. In his heyday, he was a hugely popular gay porn star, and he took that fame and built Ballsy from the ground up. I nod back at Heart before turning to head out. I’d like to be well rested for my scene with Brewer tomorrow.

I wasn’t kidding with Rebel, I can’t wait to give Brewer the pounding of his lifetime. My cock starts to fill just thinking about it. I need to save all that for tomorrow, though. I never jerk off the day or two before a shoot, because I want to be sure I have a nice, full load for the camera.

I sling my leg over my bike and settle into the feeling of the engine rumbling between my legs. There’s no therapy or mental release like climbing on my motorcycle and leaving everything behind. Out here on the road with the city at my back, I can forget about everything, including Brewer and the guy he may or may not be fucking as we speak. It’s not like I care who he fucks around with.

* * *

I step into my apartment and toss my keys on the table next to the door. Toeing off my shoes, I beeline for my bed and flop down.

I’ve never had any of the guys over to my place, not even Rebel. If they stepped in here, they might die of shock. Or worse, they’d realize they know even less about me than they thought.

On the coffee table, there’s a stack of engineering textbooks, and on top of my nightstand are several models of skyscrapers. Inside the top drawer of the dresser are hundreds of sketches of building and bridge designs. The latter are something my parents never understood.

Growing up on a three-hundred head dairy farm in Wisconsin, it pissed them off royally when I would slack on my chores in favor of sketching and dreaming. The day I graduated high school, I climbed in my beat up old Toyota and headed straight for LA.

I don’t know why I’d decided on LA—maybe because it was different than any place I’d been before?  That was twelve years ago, and I’ve never looked back. For six years, I worked odd jobs to get by. Then, one night out at the club, I ran into Bear, and my life changed. He offered me a job at Ballsy, and I jumped at the chance. I knew what Ballsy was—I’m pretty sure every gay man has watched Ballsy videos. And I knew their reputation for treating their stars well. Finally making enough to more than get by, I was able to enroll in college like I’d always dreamed. I owe Bear a hell of a lot, because without him, I’d probably still be a construction worker, nowhere near achieving my dream of becoming an architect.

I unbutton my pants and kick them off before setting my alarm for the morning. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to fucking the hell out of Brewer tomorrow. That asshole is not going to know what hit him. Pun intended.