Ricky "The Rocket" Reynold's, formerly Tony Hansen, shook his head in disgust and walked off the set, hearing the director chew the new kid out. Tony didn't bother to put on underwear or a robe as he grabbed a bottle of water and sat heavily on the leather couch used in the next scene. The make up man, Harvey Carter walked over and examined Tony's face and body, mumbled something unintelligible, and walked away. Tony watched his back as he left.
"Can you do it or not?!" The director, Victor Bramley, shouted. "I have fourteen people on overtime right now, and I need to get it done!" The new kid, a baby faced nineteen-year-old drop out with a picture perfect body and all over tan said something, setting Vic off again. "Do you want to see your contract, Casey? I have it right here!" The kid shook his head, looking like he'd just found out a family member had been torn to shreds, and climbed back onto the bed that occupied the center of the stage.
"Tony!" Vic bellowed, slamming himself into the canvas director's chair and folding his spindly legs. "Let's go again, babe. Top of the bed scene."
Tony sighed and had to force himself up off the couch. He'd been in twenty-one porn movies, eighteen of those gay, and had been the top bill in the last six. His mind began to numb over as he approached the bed, setting himself for yet another session of groaning, slobbering, and rubbing his cock raw. With an inward shudder, he climbed onto the mattress and took the kid into his arms, waiting for the lighting guy to finish his adjustments.
The boy, only three years younger than Tony himself, trembled against him, and somewhere deep in the recesses of the old Tony, he felt sorry for the kid. Especially since the kid was going to get severely ass-fucked for the real very first time in this scene. Pathetic.
On cue from the director, Tony's face immediately faded into Ricky the Rocket's, and he began petting and kissing the kid, warming him up for the big shot. Tony was an expert, turning even the coldest newbee into passionate globs in a few minutes. The director's loved him for this because they could find almost anybody and Tony would make them hot on screen.
It took only seconds before the kid began to respond, running his hands all over Tony's body builder frame. Tony slid down after a few minutes of this and took the kid's cock in his mouth, causing the boy to moan and thrash. A glance at the director showed Tony that Victor was happy, so he doubled his efforts on the kid.
Next came the fingers up the ass routine, and Tony reached down off the bed and dipped his fingers in a concealed tub of Vaseline, never taking his mouth off the kid. The camera men moved in for tight shots and tried not to get in each other's way, and Tony carefully slid over, knowing what they wanted even better than they did.
The boy jumped and shouted when Tony slid his fingers up the kid's ass. Obviously the kid had almost no experience in sex because he was almost ready to cum already. That was okay. Tony knew how to control that, too. He let the kid's cock fall out of his mouth and began another long kissing interlude, giving the boy a chance to come down. He was surprised to feel the kid's mouth on his dick as he moved up onto the bed. That was okay, too. Tony could go for hours if need be, and cum on command.
Somebody tapped Tony's foot, the signal to go ahead and move into the finish. Without making any movements that the camera could see, he wiggled his toes and let them know he understood. He began to thrust his fingers deep in the kid, causing him to shout in pain. Even though he new it hurt the kid, he was actually trying to keep him from getting his ass ripped open. Tony was eight and half inches soft, and when he was hard, well, he knew what would happen from the experience of both positions.
He rolled the kid onto his stomach and pulled him up onto his knees. Tony wrapped an arm around his waist and held him firmly, using his knees to spread the kid's knees apart. "Don't be afraid." He whispered in the boy's ear. "It's gonna hurt, but not bad, `kay?" The kid squeezed his fingers, and Tony reached down and guided himself into the kid's ass.
The kid did good, which meant if he wanted it, there was always more work. He winced and gritted his teeth, which looked great on the camera, but didn't scream out, despite a tiny amount of blood. Tony put on a great show, running in and out in various strokes, and jacking off the kid at the same time. The boy blew a gusher, arcing up in a huge display and using facial expressions that were more real than acted.
When the kid was done, Tony eased out and pushed him gently onto his back and knelt over him. He masturbated furiously, using every facial expression in the book. Out of the corner of his eye, Vic nodded, and Tony changed his grip slightly to a position he alone knew. IN a few seconds, he shot a giant load all over the kid, hitting his face and chest. The collapsed together and petted and kissed for a few seconds, and Vic yelled, "Cut."
Instantly, the persona of Ricky the Rocket evaporated, and Tony rolled off the bed. He buried the feelings of revulsion that he felt and pasted a smile on his face. Victor clapped him on the shoulder and proclaimed him a god, and Tony laughed and nodded. It was an act, all of it, and it sickened him. He made his way to the shower in the corner and cleaned the oil and remnants of the kid off.
For his services, Tony picked up a check for five grand, a decent sum for the industry. He was in demand right now, and because of his age, he could look forward to staying there for awhile, assuming he didn't commit suicide first. He dressed and left with his check, dismissing everyone and everything as the door closed behind him. As he walked over to his car, an aging but cared for Z-28, a fog of distance and depression settled over him.
Tony had been recruited four years ago at the tender age of eighteen. Marc Smith had met him in the gym near Tony's house, and had noticed that Tony had a naturally perfect physique. They lifted together, and Marc eventually found out that Tony was gay. Over the course of three months, he worked the kid into a relationship, and then into a film.
Tony had been so excited to fall in love with an older guy. Marc was nearly thirty, and seemed so exotic with his flashy clothes, muscular build, and hot car. If he could turn back the clock, he would've done a lot of things differently, like caving Marc's head in on the day they met.
Tony drove the few blocks to the bank and deposited his check, relieved that he could pay the two months back rent he owed. Depending on what was left, he wanted to pay off the last $800.00 on his car, and maybe get the hell out of town. That was the dream, although it was unrealistic. The problem was that the studio paid him a shit load of money, when they needed him.
But it was sporadic. Sometimes he worked every week, and sometimes there was months in between. Always they called and offered the pot of gold and always Tony swallowed his disgust and self- loathing and went to work. The problem was that the end was coming, and he knew it. He regularly woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat choking back sobs of pain.
He had dodged the AIDS bullet so far, and insisted on protected sex, but it was only a matter of time, he knew, before he woke up and saw his masculine solid face withering with deterioration. Marc had caught it two years ago from a street kid they'd hired for a video. He died three months ago from a self- inflicted lead remedy.
He parked the car outside the renovated brick building where he lived and set the alarm. He took the steps three at a time, pulling of his jeans jacket and tanktop before he reached the door. In August, the building could easily hit one ten inside, and it was sweltering already at six AM. As Tony took his key out, he wasn't watching where he was going, and he collided with his neighbor's kid, Brian, knocking him and his bike against the wall.
"Oh, shit. Sorry, man."
It's cool, Tony. I'm fine." Brian flashed an award-winning smile and started down the steps again. He stopped and called up to Tony. "Hey, I got my grade on the sketch, dude. It's an `A'." Three weeks ago, Brian had done a pencil drawing of Tony lying on his couch asleep in jeans and a tanktop for his course at school. "Mind if I do another one sometime?"
Tony smiled indifferently. "If you want, man. I don't care." He left Brian standing on the second landing and walked into his apartment. He closed the door and leaned back on it for a second, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
When he opened his eyes, some of the tension lifted. Here in his inner sanctum there was no studio, no self loathing (well, not as much), and no judgments. The place was painted stark white, with white carpet and furniture. Even the cabinets in the kitchen were white as well as most of the dishes. It was comforting to leave all color at the door and know that the place was clean. Tony took off his shoes and set them on a small blue rug by the door and hung his jacket in the closet.
He moved towards one of the two bedrooms, stripping off his clothes. He put them in a hamper in the room that held his futon bed, then went into the other room. The only thing breaking up the featureless white walls and floor in this room was a SoloFlex. Tony always worked out in the morning to work the stress away, not to mention keep his muscle tone.
He glanced down at his left arm and scratched it lightly over the barbwire tattoo that encircled his bicep. It's black lines starkly contrasted to his tan, one of the reasons he liked it. He selected the weight straps he wanted and began one of his usual muscle failure lifts, breaking out quickly in a sweat. As he purged his body, he purged his demons from his mind, drifting into that field of clarity that exercise brings.
Forty minutes later, after a shower, Tony took three of the sleeping pills one of the production guys had given him (they'd offered a lot worse on a regular basis), and flopped onto the couch with his arm draped over his eyes. In minutes, he was asleep.
Brian Bradshaw rode his 15-speed racing bike up a steep hill, pushing and breathing, and controlling the effort. He rode everyday for at least ten miles and usually a lot more. He had from 6 AM until 8:00 for his own time. After that he had school until 3PM.
Brian was not real tall, measuring in at 5'10", and weighed 160 lbs. His bike had given him a fantastic build, lean and cut, and his platinum blond hair was cropped short and parted on the side. His pale gray-green eyes had dark black circles around the irises, and were normally hidden behind Oakley's.
Brian had discovered at a very early age that he could draw, and spent hundreds of hours doodling and sketching anything he could. By the time he entered high school, his teachers had been astounded at his talent, and for graduation he hoped to get a scholarship.
Brian had met Tony a year ago when he'd moved in to the apartment building with his dad. They were friends, occasionally drinking a beer together or shooting hoops, but not really close. A month ago, while staring at Tony's tattoo, he had blurted out that he'd really like to sketch Tony, and with a chuckle, Tony had said yes.
For Brian, this had been like worshipping at the temple. In his eyes, Tony was magnificent, beautiful beyond words. Perfectly sculpted, and a smile that stopped satellites from orbiting. It had almost been painful to sit there and be allowed to look all over Tony's body, even if it was clothed.
Brian's forte was nudes, and even he had to admit that he was good. To him, the definition of a muscle or the line of the jaw was like music, and he heard the symphony loud and clear. The human body flowed for him as one continuos piece.
He had been aching to ask Tony to pose nude for him, but he didn't want to impose on what little friendship they had. He loved Tony's dry sarcastic wit, and he wanted to be able to spend time with him, even if it wasn't very much. He didn't have a lot of friends, and Tony was important.
Tony was an enigma, and unsolved puzzle. One minute, he was laughing hard, the next, somber and withdrawn. Brian tried to come up with joke to tell him from time to time, sometimes getting a belly laugh, more often a vague smile.
As he neared the apartments after school, there was a truck parked on the sidewalk that had some sort of painting rig in it. Brian noticed that a little bald guy was looking at Tony's car and talking on the cell phone. He rode up and stopped, putting his foot down. "I know who owns this. Need it moved?" The man nodded enthusiastically, and Brian smiled and rode to the door.
After stashing his bike, he ran up the steps to Tony's and knocked on the door. "Hey, Tony! They need your car moved, dude!" He called, listening for movement. The door opened about four inches, and Tony's bleary eyes squinted into the hall. "It looks like they're painting the front of the building, man. They need your car moved."
"Oh." Tony scrubbed his face. "Would you do it for me? I'd really appreciate it." He sniffed and rested his head against the door jam.
"Yeah. Where's the keys?" Brian asked, and Tony shuffled away from the door, leaving it open just a crack, then returned with a key ring.
"Thanks, Bri. I got a beer if you want it." Tony held the keys out.
"Great. I'll be right back." Brian bounded down the steps and was gone.
Tony left the door open a crack and went into his room to find his shower wrap. He didn't feel like getting dressed, and truth be told, he really didn't feel like company, but it was decent of Brian to help him out, so he offered the beer. He found the white terry cloth wrap hung behind the bathroom door, and he pulled it around his waist and fastened it, heading back to the couch.
He had just barely stretched back out on the couch when he heard Brian's feet pounding up the stairs. "Beer's in the fridge." He said, pointing at it as Brian came in. "Help yourself."
"You want one?" Brian asked, pulling his sweaty biking shirt off.
"Naw. Headache." Tony draped his arm over his eyes again. Brian popped the can open and sat down in the big white over stuffed chair and looked around.
"Tony, can I ask you something?" He didn't wait for an answer and grinned at Tony's eyes peering out from under his arm. "Why is your whole fucking house white? Is it like a Chinese torture or something?"
Tony chuckled. "I like it to look clean, that's all."
"Damn, dude, it does. My mom couldn't keep her house this clean, and I was an only child." Brian sipped at the beer and set it on a side table. "Listen, Tony. I was hoping to ask you a favor. The problem is, it's a big one, and I don't want to piss you off."
"Shoot." Tony said, still looking under his arm at Brian. Brian fidgeted with his hands and tilted his head to the side, and Tony laughed again. "What? I already let you drive the car."
"Uh, well, you see, I told you about the sketch, right? Well, that was the best grade I ever got, and I was hoping that lightening would strike twice." He glanced up and met Tony's eyes, nervously wringing his hands, a habit he was always trying to break.
"You wanna draw me again? That's cool." Tony smiled slightly. "You're pretty talented."
"Actually, I was sort of hoping you might, you know, let me draw you nude."
There, it was out, and Brian braced himself for the assault that was coming. Tony had known from day one that Brian was gay, but he had no idea how Tony would react. It could be with a fist in the mouth.
"Better be as good as the last one." Tony smiled and pulled his wrap open; revealing what little bit it covered. "I hate wearing clothes in the house anyway." He adjusted his position and closed his eyes. "If I fall asleep, draw quiet, okay?"
"Yeah, great." Brian's jaw dropped. "I gotta go get my shit. I'll be right back." He jumped up and bolted for the door, unable to believe his luck. Tony was very bit as beautiful as he imagined, and he was about to explode with excitement.
"Hey." Tony called, stopping Brian at the door. "Just unlock it so you can get back in. I don't want to get up."
"I will." Brian looked back at Tony and shook his head. Holy shit, what a body. He dashed into his own apartment and grabbed his pencil case and nearly killed himself digging in the closet for his large pad. Unlike Tony's place, Brian's was organized chaos, with a pile for everything and everything in its pile. He pulled the pad of paper out of the closet, knocking hangers down in the process, and ran back to Tony's.
Tony hadn't moved, and Brian kicked off his shoes by the door and sat in the huge chair, folding his legs underneath himself. Immediately he began the rough outline, trying to get as much detail as he could as fast as he could in case Tony changed his mind.
First the outline and form, his eyes darting from paper to Tony rapidly, the pencil making soft scratching noises as he moved it. Tony seemed to be asleep, his chest rising and falling in slow deep breaths. Brian moved right on to the shading, working at a controlled rush.
"Like a living work of art." He mumbled to himself, unaware that he'd spoken.
"Hmm?" Tony mumbled, adjusting his arm over his eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Brian froze, hardly daring to breathe. "I thought you were asleep."
"Can't." Tony said quietly. "What did you say a second ago?"
Brian set back to work on the drawing and sighed gently. "I said you're like a living work of art. I'd kill to have your body."
"You can have it." Tony smiled mirthlessly. "Everything that goes with it, too."
"I'm serious, Tony. I look like a goddamn stick figure next to you." Brian glanced up at the shading of Tony's ribs. "You're beautiful."
"Doesn't it go something like the eye of the beholder or something?" Tony yawned. "You're near sighted."
"Mock me more, I love it." Brian shook his head. "I almost wish you were gay." He immediately realized what he'd said and closed his eyes, silently mouthing `fuck!'."
Tony chuckled, a not very pleasant sound, and smiled. "If you had any idea." He mumbled.
Brian blinked. Did he say what he thought he said? After a second, he looked down and went back to the drawing. "Are you gay?" He asked carefully, needing to know the answer.
"I'm whatever I need to be." Tony exhaled a long drawn out breath.
Brian knew when to leave things alone, and he worked quietly for several minutes. He glanced up at Tony's face and saw a look of incredible pain there. It shocked him so bad, he dropped his pencil. "Holy shit, man, you look like you lost your best friend. Did I offend you?"
"No." Tony shook his head. "Just draw, okay? I really don't want to get into it." A single small tear started to run down his cheek, and he swiped it away quickly.
Too late. Brian was dumbstruck. He had no idea how to react to what he was seeing. "Tony, what's wrong, dude? Can I help?"
"Nothing's wrong." Tony grumbled and moved his arm away from his red eyes. "About done, man?"
"Huh?" Brian stared at Tony's face and shook his head. "Shit, I'm sorry. Yeah, uh, I am." He dropped his pencil case and then nearly fell out of the chair trying to reach for it. "I didn't mean to upset you. I really appreciate this opportunity, Tony. Really."
"Brian, you didn't piss me off." Tony stood up and wrapped the shower wrap around his waist. "I have some heavy shit going on right now, that's all."
"Hey, you don't owe me an explanation, dude. It's cool. I can't tell you what this meant to me." Brian stood up out of the chair, but his left leg was asleep. He fell forward against Tony, knocking them both onto the couch. "I'm so sor" He began to apologize, but the up close view of Tony's grayish green eyes stopped him. "I meant it, you know." He said quietly. "I think you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Tony swallowed hard, unsure what to do. A hideous wave of emotions screamed through him, and he shivered, attracted and repulsed at the same time. He didn't see himself as attractive, and it was hard to think that Brian did. No one had thought that about him in a long time.
"So much pain." Brian whispered, lightly stroking Tony's cheek. "Please let me help." Tony remained silent, but his features softened just a little. Unable to resist, Brian carefully lowered his face to Tony's and kissed him. There was no reaction at first, like kissing a corpse, but then there was the slightest response.
Tony shivered a tingle that he hadn't felt in a long time running up his spine. Brian's lips were so soft, and moved so gently, totally unlike those pricks he worked with. No urgency, no expectations, just a kiss. He responded a little bit more, automatically opening his mouth just a bit. Brian's hands caressed his face and neck, and Tony felt like he was relaxing into a warm pool after nearly dying of thirst.
"Brian, wait." Tony pulled back and reached up to touch the other's face. "You don't know anything about me. This is dangerous. Your dad would have a fucking coronary."
Brian stepped back, staggered by the moment and nodded. "Yeah. I'll finish this at home." He mumbled, gathering the pad and pencil case. "I really appreciate this, Tony. I mean it."
"Any time, man." Tony smiled thinly, feeling his heart pound in his chest. "Let me know what the grade is."
"I will." Brian looked at him strangely and headed for the door, glancing once over his shoulder. Tony closed the door and leaned back against it and closed his eyes. His mind played a cruel trick on him, allowing him to imagine the feel of Brian's lips against his again and again. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the emotions away.
Brian awkwardly dumped his art supplies on the floor and fell on the bed, still stunned. Holy shit what a kiss. It made his toes curl just thinking about it, and the vision of Tony naked on the couch was too much. He ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water in his face.
It was like some surreal dream that played like a movie in his head, causing him an almost painful erection. Tony had said that he never wore clothes in the house, and Brian tore his off and closed his bedroom door, feeling decadent and slightly frightened at the same time.
He glanced at the clock. His dad got home from his job at the warehouse at around 8pm, and it was only 5:30. About two hours to finish the new sketch in the buff. Hurriedly, he grabbed the pencils and drawing and pounced on his bed, recalling the image of Tony sprawled on the couch in his mind.
The next morning, drawing rolled in a tube for safe transport, Brian lit out for school at 6:30. He had done two drawings, almost identical with the exception that in the one he now carried to school, Tony had underwear on. The nude was for his eyes only. He pulled his bike out and headed down the hill.
Math and English dragged ass forever, and finally, it was time for art. He went to his locker and snatched the tube, jogging lightly down the hall and dodging people. Mr. Kendal, a balding eccentric with a ponytail and thick glasses, placed Brian's drawing under the overhead projector for the class to critique.
"Dude," Cory, a thin blond kid that sat next to him leaned over to Brian. "I like Ricky the Rocket, too." He grinned and winked.
Brian was confused. "What? Who's Ricky the Rocket?"
Cory gestured at the drawing. "He is, man. You have to have watched the video a lot to get that detail."
"What are you talking about?" Brian was now completely baffled.
"Rocket Beach, man. I have a copy. Haven't you seen it?"
"No." Brian said honestly. "I'm totally lost, dude."
"If you want, I'll show it to you after school." Cory reached down and rubbed it his crotch. "It's fucking hot."
Brian shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm tied up man."
"Wait, I have a different one." Cory leaned over and opened his backpack. "I just borrowed this one." He handed a video to Brian in its sleeve. Brian looked down in the semi-darkness of the room and his eyes nearly bugged out. Red hot pool romp, staring Ricky Reynolds. Right under the title was a smirking picture of Tony in a speedo with some guy pulling it down and sucking him off. Brian dropped the video.
"To hot, right?" Cory grinned like an idiot. "I didn't know you liked this kind of stuff, Brian, or I would've asked you to come and watch it."
"I don't." Brian said woodenly. "I saw it in a magazine." He glanced up at the screen, at Tony, and suddenly had to throw up. Right here, right now. He almost made it to the garbage can. It was a bad scene.
Tony was bent under the hood of his car as Brian pedaled up, and he smiled slightly and wiped his hands. "So, what was the grade, hot shot?"
Brian shoved his bike down on the grass, pulled the tube out of his backpack and walked over to Tony. "A fucking plus." He said sarcastically, pushing the tube into Tony's hands. "Thanks for embarrassing the shit out of me, asshole. I didn't know I was drawing a world famous porn star." He whirled around and stalked into the building, slamming the door.
When Tony caught up with him, he was just putting the key in the lock. "Bri, wait up." Tony jogged up and grabbed his shoulder. Brian moved away, shooting a death glare at him, and ducked in the door. "Brian, come on. Just talk to me, okay?"
"I didn't shit in your soup, man. This was not cool at all." Brian said quietly and closed the door.
Tony groaned and leaned against the door jam, furious with him self. Once again, he'd betrayed someone's trust, and his nasty little secret fucked up yet another relationship. Disgusted, he turned and went into his apartment.
He slept very little during the night, tossing and turning until he finally threw the sheets off and turned up the air-conditioning to its coldest setting. Brian's innocent kiss preyed on his mind like a shark, and he couldn't get rid of it. Finally, at a little after six, he got up and showered, dressing in running shorts and shoes.
He jogged down the stairs to the main doors and nearly fell over someone sitting on the porch. He jumped up and rolled against the railing, his feet sliding down the steps as he caught himself.
"Oh, shit!" Brian jumped up and grabbed his arm. "You okay?" He helped Tony sit down and hesitated for a second before sitting down next to him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get you like that."
"It's okay." Tony laughed and put his elbows on his knees. "What the hell are you doing up so early?"
Brian looked out across the street. "I was gonna go roller blading, but one of the wheels is loose. I about killed myself." He lifted his skates by the laces and dropped them.
"So much for that?"
"Ever jog?" Tony asked.
"Sometimes." Brian looked at his hands.
It was obvious that Brian was still upset about his discovery, and Tony inhaled slowly and let it out. "Brian, I'm sorry I hurt you. Your like the only guy on earth I wouldn't want to hurt, you know?" He glanced over and met Brian's eyes. "See, I don't tell people what I do because I instantly become an asshole to them, and I didn't want you to think that. Of course, I fucked it up anyway, though."
Brian smiled slightly. "Actually, I was thinking about how many guys would've killed to kiss Ricky Rocket." He looked over at Tony nervously and looked back down fast. "You know, it's kinda cool to know a movie star."
Tony threw back his head and laughed. "I'm not exactly a movie star, buddy." He elbowed Brian in the ribs. "They'd shit at the Oscar's, wouldn't they?"
Brian chuckled and nodded. "It's still cool, though. Exotic."
Tony smiled and looked at Brian's eyes, feeling something funny stirring in him self. "Wanna go jogging?"
Brian nodded and grinned, pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the porch. Tony stood up and loped off up the road, and Brian followed, settling in at his right side. The air was perfect as the sun rose, and the smell of salt sharpened as they neared the beach. They passed several joggers, always waving and exchanging pleasantries, but not speaking otherwise.
An hour later, Brian collapsed on the porch covered in a sheen of sweat, breathing deeply and evenly. "I liked that." He gasped. "We ought to do it more often."
Tony nodded and wiped his drenched hair off his forehead. "Almost every morning, man. Gotta look good." He patted his bare stomach for emphasis.
"It works." Brian smiled up at him and looked away shyly.
With the sun stretching over the trees and filtering down on them, Tony took in the image of Brian leaning back on the steps, and something in his mind snapped into place. The sweat he'd worked up, giving his definition a boost accented Brian's upper body. He was tanned deeply, causing his pale grayish green eyes to stand out like silvery emeralds.
Tony had fucked his way through numerous kids that seemed to be the same age as Brian, and actually some of them were, lying about their age to get the money. He'd never felt the slightest attraction to any of them. It was, after all, a job.
Now, standing here looking at Brian, his chest felt funny, and when Brian smiled his cheeks dimpled, and Tony felt a shiver run up his spine. "I've got to go get parts for the car after I shower. Wanna go?" He headed up the stairs and put his hand briefly on Brian's shoulder.
"That'd be cool." Brian jumped up and followed. "Can we stop somewhere and eat? I'll buy."
"Where ever you want." Tony jogged up the stairs and opened the door to his apartment. "I'll leave it unlocked for you." He rapped on the door. "Don't take to long."
"I'll hurry." Brian opened his own door. He ran into his room, pulling off clothes as he went, then stopped dead in the center of the room, a daring idea slipping into his mind like ice. His eyes widened, and he turned towards the front door, a slightly evil grin crossing his lips.
Tony kicked his shoes into the closet and pulled of his running shorts, heading for the shower. He turned the water on hot, letting it pound on his shoulders, easing the tightness. He poured shampoo in his hand and began scrubbing his hair, unable to get the image of Brian out of his mind. There was a faint cool breeze across his legs, and he whirled around, wiping the soap out of his eyes.
Brian stepped in to the shower and raised his hands, placing them on Tony's chest. "Hi." He said, smiling shyly.
Tony tilted his head back and rinsed the soap out of his hair and off his face. "So, you really want to have sex with a porn star?"
"No," Brian reached up to caress his cheeks. "I want to be in love with Tony." He pulled Tony down into a long gentle kiss.