Page 2

Gunner's, the local gay bar - and one of the better bars in town, if I was being honest - was packed when I finally made my way inside the next night.

I had spent the entire day after the meeting simultaneously freaked out and elated at how well things had gone, and then mostly just freaking out over the fact that my first day of work at a porn studio was going to be less than seventy-two hours away.

A big part of me felt like things should have moved a little slower.

Didn't they need to file my paperwork with their lawyers, and have me meet with HR before I could walk on set? Maybe there were more restrictions that I would be asked to adhere to if I made it through the four weeks and was offered a full time contract.

I didn't know, and I couldn't decide if the butterflies in my stomach were more from nerves or excitement.

"Xan!" Ethan waved at me from a little table near the back, and a smile broke out of my face as I gently shouldered my way through the crowd to get to my twin.

"E.

Sorry I didn't text back yesterday.

I was a little..." My words trailed off, and I finished by giving my brother a hug, rather than trying to detangle the complicated web of emotions that had filled me since the day before.

That still squirmed in my stomach, begging for me to pay attention to them.

Ethan looked at me a little oddly, hugging me back before he sat back in the booth and raised one hand to hail a waiter.

He already had a glass of water in front of him, and the polo shirt that he wore was green today, as neat and pressed as it always was.

See, where I tended towards more of a grunge aesthetic with jeans and band t-shirts - the button down and slacks that I had worn to the interview notwithstanding - Ethan was far more clean cut.

All perky and preppy, wearing collared shirts and Polos and button downs whenever he had to leave his house.

I was pretty sure he even pressed his jeans, something that I had been teasing him mercilessly about since we were teenagers.

It made it easy for strangers to tell us apart, even though we were just about as identical as it was for two humans to be.

And for that, I would always be grateful.

Along with the fact that my brother was my ride or die, through everything.

A fact that made it a little uncomfortable that I hadn't told him where I had been interviewing the day before.

I didn't think that he would judge me but...there was a tiny part of me that was worried about it.

He knew about my camming - though he aggressively agreed never to even peek at my fan page - and had been cool about it.

But there was a difference between camming a couple of days a month for some extra change on the side...and making adult film work my temporary career.

Were there levels of acceptability when it came to sex work? I would have to think through my own personal biases, there.

"It's okay." Ethan's soft voice pulled me out of my musing thoughts, and he smiled up at the waiter who walked up to us.

A cute, twinky blonde who barely looked old enough to be in the bar, let alone serving drinks.

His ear lobes were stretched wide, and a bright smile on his face as he looked between us.

"Hey, guys.

What I can get for you?"

"Rum and Coke," I ordered.

"A beer.

Whatever you have on tap," Ethan said, smiling at the cutie before he turned on his heel and bounced away.

Then he turned his attention back to me, his smile fading some, replaced by a look of mild concern and a hint of excitement.

"So? Did you get the job?"

I blew out a breath.

"I got the job," I informed him.

His smile split wide, and he reached out to pat the back of my hand.

"That's great.

Seriously." He cocked his head to the side, his smile turning a little mischievous.

"Are you going to tell me what the job is, yet?"

My stomach twisted, and it was a miracle that I managed to roll my eyes nonchalantly.

Ethan was sweet and definitely spent more time with his books at the library he managed than he did with other people, but he was far from stupid.

"You don't need to know every part of my life, E."

His brows furrowed, and then his eyes widened a little as he looked at me with no small amount of horror.

"Oh, God.

You're in with the mob, aren't you? I didn't think that we had mobs in towns this small." He leaned forward, his grip finding my wrist tightly this time, real concern lighting in his eyes.

"Tell me if we need to disappear, and we'll be gone."

I let out a burst of startled laughter, gently disengaging his fingers from around my wrist.

"I'm not the only one watching too much Sopranos, I see," I teased.

Ethan furrowed his brow, pouting a little as our cute twinky waiter brought over our drinks and walked away without saying a word.

"That's...I'm not..." He picked up his drink and took a sip from his glass, eyeing me suspiciously over the top of the foam.

"Are you in danger, Xan? Seriously.

I want to help."

I shook my head, picking up my drink and taking a sip, sucking an ice cube into my mouth and crunching it before I answered.

"I'm not in danger, E.

And I'm not in with the mob, Jesus." I cocked my head to the side, arching an eyebrow.

"Though I find it fascinating how fast you were willing to disappear with me if I was."

Ethan shrugged, taking another sip of his beer.

"We share a face.

If you're in trouble, I'm in trouble by default."

He nudged his foot up against mine, and his voice was a little more casual when he spoke again.

"Are you really not going to tell me what the job is, Xan?"

I hesitated, and then shook my head.

"Not yet." He arched his eyebrow at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not a cleaner for the mob, E.

Christ.

It's just...sensitive," I finally settled on. "I want to make sure that everything is okay before I go around telling anyone. No point in saying something if there isn't anything to say, right?"

Ethan furrowed his brow.

"Nope, I think you lost me.

But that's okay." He offered a smile.

"I'll get it out of you eventually." He winked, and I choked out a laugh before the topic, thankfully, ventured to safer pastures.

*

It took a good hour after I got home from the bar - tipsy enough that I had hired an Uber to come and get me, rather than risk a DUI - before I got up the courage to sit in front of my laptop and shove it open.

The Studio Black website was one that I had bookmarked weeks before, when I was getting up the courage to reach out to Cole in the first place, and the professional opening page was familiar.

I clicked the box that warned against minors entering the site, and then swallowed hard when the opening page - and the video thumb nails that accompanied - loaded.

Cole was right.

I had to do some research.

At least a little bit of it, so that I wouldn't be totally freaked out when I met my new costar - God, what a weird thing to think about myself - tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

"I am not drunk enough for this," I mumbled.

I shoved away from my laptop, and got the vodka that I stashed for emergencies - drinking emergencies totally existed, okay? - and dragged out one of the clean shot glasses in my cabinet.

Two shots, and almost ten minutes later, and I was feeling pleasantly warm, and a lot less jittery than I had been before.

I could watch some porn.

I did that...often.

It didn't matter that I was going to be meeting this guy in less than...twelve hours.

This was just a gay man, watching porn, and maybe getting off.

My brain glitched, and my cock twitched as I sat in front of my laptop again.

Maybe not getting off.

That might be weird.

I was going to have to work with this guy.

Making porn, my brain helpfully added.

It would be weirder if you thought he was hot and didn't get off.

It took a moment, but I finally got up the courage to type "Lance Stone" into the search bar, and then hold my breath as the results loaded.

When they did, I let out the breath as I saw the sheer number of videos that this guy had.

I knew that porn stars could be prolific, especially if the money was good, but this seemed...a tiny bit excessive.

My fingers itched for the booze again, but I knew that was a bad idea.

I was already well on my way to drunk, and it was going to be a tossup whether I was hungover for my first shoot the next day.

Instead, I clicked on the first video listed on the page, one with a whopping 6 million views.

It loaded immediately, and my mouth dried as the camera panned up a tall man with dark, curly hair.

He was looking down at the man kneeling in front of him - a blonde - and a small smirk was playing on his lips.

"You were naughty, puppy," the man purred, his voice deep and velvet and seductive.

"And I've decided what your punishment is going to be."

I startled a little, my cock immediately starting to fill at the sound of his voice.

I glanced down at the description of the video, but it didn't explain which star was which.

And God, I hoped that the dark haired guy was the man I was going to be shooting with.

I swallowed, and clicked away from the video just as the camera angle changed, and I caught a glimpse of the blonde dropping his jaw for a long, objectively stunning cock.

The search result page was back before I could look at it better, and I swallowed as my cock twitched in protest.

I clicked another video, and this time the first thing I saw was a shorter, twinky man - with light brown hair, not blonde - bent firmly over the back of a couch, wiggling a little with his hands lashed firmly together at the small of his back.

The bondage perked my cock up even more, and when the same tall, curly haired guy from the last video walked into the frame - wearing a pair of jeans and a casual shirt, this time - I swallowed down on my suddenly thrilled anxiety.

That was Lance.

I was going to be doing...things with him.

Pictures.

And video.

Oh, God...

"Good boy," Lance said softly.

He smoothed his hand down the small of his partner's back, and the muffled sounds made me think the man was gagged.

"Very good."

My cock jumped at the sound of his voice again, and I gave in, unbuttoning my pants and groaning softly when my hard length sprang free.

Lance's hand slid down, and the outline of his cock in his too-tight pants made my mouth water.

He kicked his partner's feet apart with a low growl, and then his fingers were in his own mouth, and the camera panned in close.

Most porn that I watched didn't focus much on the actor's faces, though I didn't understand why.

Seeing someone take an enormous cock was hot, of course, but seeing the look on someone's face while they were being taken apart - or doing the taking, on the other hand - was more erotic than any sexual act that a human could perform.

In my opinion.

An opinion that was immediate solidified, rock solid, when I watched Lance's eyes flutter half closed, and a soft moan escaped his lips where he was sucking on his own fingers.

A performance, of course.

He was an actor.

But a damned good one, if the way that precome was beading at the head of my cock was any indication.

Lance's fingers were shiny and slick when they popped out of his mouth, and the camera panned away from his face.

It focused on his fingers, teasing down the crack of the bottom, and Lance chuckled when his scene partner let out a pathetic whimper.

"Needy," he murmured.

"So fucking needy for my cock, aren't you, baby boy?"

My cock jerked, spilling a sticky strand of precome down the shaft, and I groaned softly as I swallowed down the last of my reservations and wrapped my hand around it.

It felt good, better than it usually did to touch myself, I swallowed the needy sounds that I wanted to make, ones that would rival the man on the video who was being fingered open by Lance.

I wasn't watching that, though.

I was looking at Lance's hand.

His fingers, long and thick, his veins prominent in his wrists where his fingers were twisting.

Fuck, they would feel good touching me.

Stretching me, while he purred in that sexy as fuck voice of his...

The man bent over the couch let out a strangled sound of pleasure, and Lance cooed a sound of approval as his fingers worked faster.

"You like that? Let me take care of you, baby boy.

Let me touch that sweet spot of yours and make you so desperate you cry for me..."

The shot cut, and then Lance was fucking the guy.

And God, his cock was a thing of beauty.

I watched dazedly, only a tiny bit startled by the abrupt transition.

Long.

Thick.

Hard as a fucking rock, tugging on the rim of the bottom partner with every harsh thrust that Lance doled out.

My own hole clenched, and some trepidation filled me, my hand stilling on my cock as I watched, unable to tear my eyes away from Lance's dick.

I was far from a virgin, of course, but it had been...a while...

God, I was going to have to prep myself well if I was going to take that thing inside of me.

Or let him do it for me...

I whimpered, my hand starting to work my cock again at the thought, stripping hard and fast, now.

I was a realist; I knew that most bottoms went into their porn scenes already prepped.

There was no way that these guys were taking those monster cocks all the way without any sort of stretching whatsoever.

But the thought of a guy, of this guy, taking his time with me, taking me apart with his fingers and toying with me until I was so desperate that I couldn't see straight...

Lance grunted, the guttural sound of pleasure overwhelming the slapping sound of skin on skin for a moment, and that did it for me.

I cried out, my cock jerking in my hand before I spilled all over my shirt, my balls tingling with how hard I shot all over myself.

I couldn't stop myself from whimpering a little as I kept working my cock for another moment, a moment longer than was strictly necessary, and I finally hissed at the oversensitivity, releasing my softening length and looking at my come all over my fingers.

Fuck.

I slammed my laptop closed with my bare foot, then sat back, running my hand through my hair with my clean hand as I struggled to catch my breath.

This guy was hot.

And I was going to be...doing scenes with him.

And I had just come in less than five minutes after merely watching a video of him fucking.

Not embarrassing myself on my first day was going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Fuck.