Chet had moved his shoot location since the first time Shane modeled for him. Instead of Harrisburg proper, the directions he’d printed off the computer last night took him to a small town across the river called Camp Hill. To an older home in a residential neighborhood that could have been any Smalltown USA. Chet probably didn’t own the house, and Shane didn’t doubt that he’d covered his connection to whoever did own it. He was no fool.

Shane parked in a narrow driveway behind three other vehicles, proud his hunk of junk had made it so far without sputtering or spitting. He grabbed his duffel bag off the passenger seat—several changes of clothes, bath supplies—and sat there for a while. He couldn’t make himself get the fuck up and ring the bell.

I don’t want to do this.

No, he had to do this. Jason hadn’t said anything that morning at breakfast, but Shane had seen the fatigue anyway. Jason was pale, pinched and more irritable than usual. He was also his standard stoic self, pretending everything was fine and that he wasn’t killing himself with work.

This wasn’t about sex or intimacy. This was doing what the director said to do and getting paid for it.

Getting paid to take an eight-inch schlong up the ass for a couple of hours and not cry like a fucking pussy.

It’s why you got up an hour early to play with a rubber dildo, now man up and get the fuck in there.

He could do this.

Chet greeted him at the door before he could knock. He might be pushing fifty, but Chet defined silver fox. Handsome, trim, with more white in his hair than brown, he had charm to spare. He swooped in for a hug that Shane allowed. Briefly.

“Darling, you look amazing,” Chet said. He let Shane into a small foyer so he could close the door. “Really amazing. Better than a few years ago, I swear, and I haven’t even seen you naked yet.”

Shane’s stomach wobbled. “Thanks. You look fantastic too.”

“I’m getting older by the day, but I swear you got younger.” Chet led him down a hallway to an open door that led to a set of carpeted stairs. “The studio is downstairs. There’s a shower on this floor you can use afterward, of course.”

Oh goodie.

Shane descended into a finished basement. Carpeted floors, painted walls. No dampness or moldy smell, which was nice. Half of the room was full of various pieces of furniture and set dressings, as well as camera equipment. The other half, which was gleaming with set lights, held a basic living room set. Couch. Big ottoman. Generic painting on the wall. Fake plant off to the side. Standard and boring.

Tony strolled over, dressed in sweat pants and a white tank. His black hair was slicked back, and his jaw sported enough stubble to burn at certain angles. He grinned to beat the devil, though, and Shane wanted to like him. Too bad he was the enemy.

“Hey, dude. Tony.”

“Colby,” Shane said.

They shook hands.

“You look like a guy who prefers to top,” Tony said.

Shane managed a nonchalant shrug. “I go both ways. You?”

“Hell no. Not yet. I’ve got a bit of a following, though, so for the right money I might let someone do me.”

“It’s easier than you think with the right person.” Noel flashed to mind with those adorable dimples. Shane should have pushed all thoughts of Noel out of this, but he’d need those memories to get his dick up and running. Some guys got into porn because they wanted to and actually enjoyed the job, so the mechanics came easily.

Shane wasn’t one of those guys.

“We’re doing a simple scene today,” Chet said. The sound guy trailed him with a boom over one shoulder like a faithful hobo. “Colby comes in, exhausted from work, and collapses on the couch. All you want is to sleep. Tony comes in and he wants sex. Colby, you resist. You don’t want it, even though you’re hard. All roads lead to Tony nailing you.”

Shane stared at Chet, confused, his stomach twisting into knots. “What kind of a scene is that?” When had Chet moved away from the basic format of chat, jerk, suck and fuck?

“It’s a reluctance scene,” Chet said. “The market for vanilla porn isn’t what it used to be, thanks to all the free shit on the Internet. But the market for rougher stuff would surprise you, kid, and that’s what you agreed to when you took Eli’s spot today.”

He bit his tongue to keep from telling Chet where he could shove that verbal agreement, because fuck it all, he needed the money. At least he wouldn’t have to act all that hard or pretend he wanted Tony. “Fine.”

Chet thumped him lightly on the shoulder. “Excellent. Then do what you gotta do to get hard, kid, because we’re rolling soon.”

Fuck. My. Life.

They gave him a too-large black suit to wear and five minutes to fluff himself. Memories of Noel kneeling in front of him, sucking him into orbit, was the only thing that got blood pumping into Shane’s dick. He took his mark, and when Chet yelled “Action,” he shuffled across the carpet to the sofa. Stripped off the tie and dropped it on the floor. Kind of fell on his back onto the cushions, threw an arm across his eyes, and pretended to sleep. He kept his camera-close leg bent up at the knee to hide some of the bulge in his pants. He wasn’t fooling anyone, but what the hell? He knew some of the tricks.

“Hey, baby, you’re home,” Tony said. His ankles were lifted, the couch shifted, then his feet were in Tony’s lap, right over his monster hard-on. He removed Shane’s shoes and began massaging his feet.

“Feels good.”

“Long day?”

“Fucking worst. I want to sleep for a week.”

Hands slid from his ankles to his knees. “I can make you feel better, baby.”

Shane almost snorted at the canned line. He let himself enjoy the gentle touch because he was losing his wood. He wanted to launch himself at Tony and get this mess over with. That wasn’t the scene, though, and Chet would make them start over. He pulled his legs up and turned on his side to face the camera, eyes still closed. “In a few hours, okay?”

“I’m horny now.”

“Well, I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work.”

Shane put up the fight Chet asked for. He resisted his clothes being removed. Resisted sucking the cock shoved in his mouth. He probably glared a lot, even when he got blown. Tony was good, professional, not too rough. Shane never said no, but he did say “quit it” a few times. They’d probably get edited out. No idea. He didn’t care.

Tony eventually dumped him on the floor on his stomach, then straddled his thighs. Shoved a finger between his cheeks. “Oh yeah, you ready for me, baby?”

No.

“Please,” Shane said, a perfect whimper that could have been “please stop” as much as “please, fuck me.”

Tony lined up, then froze until Chet said, “Okay, rubber up.”

Shane held his position while Tony put on a condom and lube. Chet always cut that part out when the models didn’t go bare, and even if this Tony fellow had agreed to it, Shane would have put his foot down. He’d been young and stupid the first time he did it, and he’d never take that risk again, regular tests or not.

He wasn’t ready for Tony, and he hated himself for agreeing to this. For being so desperate and stupid, and he let some of those emotions show while Tony fucked him. He ignored the discomfort that bordered on pain, and he let Tony manhandle him around the set every time Chet called for a position change.

“Time to get into it, Colby,” Chet said.

Fucking great.

Shane was ashamed of himself for it, but he thought of Noel. Golden-haired, dimple-cheeked Noel. His Hot Cop. Noel had him bent over the arm of the sofa. Noel was drilling him from behind. “Oh yeah,” Shane gasped. “Oh yeah, please.”

“See? I know what you need, baby.”

“Yeah, I need it. I need it.”

Ages later, Chet called for his come shot. Shane tried. He thought of everything he and Noel had done two nights before, imagined all of the dirty things he wanted to do to Noel, but his ass was on fire. He couldn’t get there. Chet finally told Tony to pull out and help. The moment that distracting pressure was out of his body, Shane came. He feigned satisfaction while Tony jerked off onto his chest.

It wasn’t until he was upstairs in the shower, trying to slough off the touch of a stranger’s hands on his body, did it occur to him that Tony never kissed him. Out of all of the things that Tony had done to his body, the lack of kissing made his heart flutter. He hadn’t lost that too. That still belonged to Noel, and only Noel.

He was actually smiling later when he took his check from Chet.

“Too bad you wanted upfront,” Chet said, “because that footage is killer. You did all the work, but Tony’s getting the payday.”

“Good for Tony.”

“You know, my little house is doing really well, sweetheart. If you want to come back, do something a little harder, even the upfront will be worth your while.”

Do something harder than a reluctance scene? He nearly shuddered at the thought. “No thanks, Chet. I appreciate this one, I do, but I’m not into this.”

Chet shrugged. “You change your mind, you know how to find me.”

“Yeah. See you around.”

On his way back to Stratton, Shane swung by the first branch of his bank that he drove past. He deposited the check via the ATM. Since it was Saturday the account wouldn’t update right away. He still hadn’t figured out how to explain the windfall to Jason. He’d never believe all those zeroes came from a day-long stripping session, and he would fucking freak if Shane told him the truth.

He’d freak, and then he’d probably try to find a third job.

Shane hit a package store that sold twenty-four ounce cans of Bud for ninety-nine cents and bought two. Three would have been better, but he had a short shift at the deli starting at eight that night. He got home a little after four. He hadn’t eaten for hours and had no appetite for whatever Jason was messing with in the kitchen, so he headed for his room.

“Jo? You okay?”

He paused at the mouth of the hallway, back to his brother. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“You’re limping.”

That’s because I got my ass reamed for five hours, but hey, we can write a big check on Monday.

“It’s nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

Pause. “You hungry?”

“No.”

Jason didn’t respond, so Shane locked himself in his bedroom and cracked one of the beers. Bud wasn’t his favorite, but he drank cheap at home. The best part of going out looking for a trick—other than the sex—was getting a free drink or three. Once in a while, someone even sprang for top shelf.

One whole can on an empty stomach took the edge off the ache in his body, but it didn’t touch the ache in his heart. He opened the second beer.

* * *

“Sarah brought up getting married again,” Corey Paxton said as he pulled into a space near the gym he and Noel worked out at together most Saturday evenings.

Corey was the newest addition to the Stratton Police Department, there only ten months, which earned him a spot on first watch, like Noel. They’d hit it off quickly. Corey was a year younger and eager to prove himself, despite the fact that there wasn’t much proving to be done in a small town. And with their bizarre sleep patterns, working out at five thirty on a Saturday evening wasn’t totally abnormal for either of them.

“Didn’t Sarah bring up marriage last month?” Noel asked.

“Yeah.” Corey palmed his keys. “And the month before.”

“Good grief, man, what’s the hold up?”

“Money, mostly.”

Noel grabbed both of their gym bags out of the backseat. He tossed Corey his over the roof of his Honda Civic. “I hear that. If money’s an issue now, it doesn’t get better just because you put a ring on it.”

“Exactly. I mean, I love her, and I think I want to marry her one day but not yet.”

“Well, until ‘I think’ becomes ‘I know’ you don’t want to propose.”

“Dude, why can’t chicks think more like guys do? Everything would be much simpler.”

Noel laughed as he followed Corey across the street. Outside the gym door, his phone rang. His heart skipped when he saw Shane’s name on the screen. “Corey, I’ll catch up with you. I need to take this.”

“Demanding girlfriend?”

He flipped Corey off, then walked a few feet down the sidewalk. “Hey, Shane.”

“Hey.” He sounded…weird.

“Are you all right? I thought we were talking Monday.”

“Needed to hear a friendly voice.” Something fizzy gurgled on Shane’s end. “Bad day.”

Noel smiled at the sky, warmed by the idea that Shane wanted a boost from the sound of Noel’s voice on the phone. It was sweet and oddly intimate. “Anything you need to get off your chest?”

“Don’t really want to talk about it. Can you talk to me?”

He could certainly spare a few minutes for that. “Anything you want me to talk about in particular? I could describe what I’m wearing.”

Shane made a sound that might have been an abbreviated snort. “Anything sexy?”

“Not unless you think gym shorts are sexy.” Seeing an otherwise naked Shane wearing his shorts the other night was a favorite fantasy of Noel’s at the moment.

“It’s sexy if it shows off your legs. I like your legs.”

Noel glanced around, but no one was paying him any attention or knew he was talking to a guy, rather than a chick. He still pitched his voice lower when he replied, “I like your legs too. Especially tossed up over my shoulders.”

“Mmm. That was nice.”

A car horn blared down the street, and Noel nearly dropped his phone.

“Where are you? Are you busy?” Shane asked.

“I’m on my way to the gym.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. The only time I can’t take personal calls is when I’m working, but since you’re probably asleep during most of that, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Unless you’re breaking up parties I’m invited to.”

The anger in Shane’s voice surprised him, considering their flirty conversation of a minute ago, so he tried for some levity. “That’s not going to become a trend, though, right?”

“Fucking hope not.” More gurgling. He was drinking something very close to the phone.

“I was teasing, cowboy.”

“Sorry.”

“Seriously, though, what’s eating you? Did something happen today?”

The rough sound Shane made unsettled him. “Like I said, I needed a friendly voice.”

Stubborn mule. “So you said.”

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“Why not?”

“You’re busy.”

Concern settled coldly in Noel’s stomach. “Shane, are you drinking?”

“Yes.”

“It’s five thirty.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Noel had no response to that. “Are you home?”

“Yes.”

“Is Jason home?”

“Yes.”

The positive answers didn’t make Noel feel better. He wanted to go over but he didn’t remember Shane’s exact address given last week, and he doubted Shane would tell him. Parsons Square didn’t narrow it down. “Promise me you won’t go out again tonight.”

“I gotta work later. I’ll be sober. Beer goes through me fast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Done it before. Shit, should I tell that to a cop?”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re careful.”

“Yeah.”

“Just…call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna work but I need the money. Sore.”

“Why are you sore?” The question slipped out before he could think of a more tactful way to phrase it. Way too many possible answers, and he didn’t want to spend all night pondering them. Hell. “From the other night?”

“Nah, I liked that. Bad day, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. Shane—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy the gym.”

“Shane—”

The phone went silent. Noel called back. Straight to voicemail. He texted, Please take care of yourself.

He had a bad feeling that Shane had a history of not taking care of himself. Shane was a puzzle of sorts that he felt compelled to solve—or at least get to know better, maybe help him get off the hamster wheel he seemed determined to run on alone. Shane had a stubborn streak a mile wide and a frustrating knack for avoiding direct questions. Noel never backed down from a challenge, and this would be a doozy, as long as he didn’t screw it up.

His gut told him Shane was worth it.

After a full minute of silence from Shane’s end Noel went inside the gym to tackle his workout.

Shane never texted him back.