Chapter 4 - Getting to know you.

Brian ran across the parking lot, hiking up his sweatpants as they threatened to fall to his feet. He was most decidedly late for work. Due, no doubt, to the marathon masturbation session he’d indulged in the night before. Never, ever, had he played with himself for so long that his dick was actually a little sore. Hence the sweatpants.

Fuck!

He’d not been able to banish the blond from his head for HOURS. And NOT the blond he’d thought he would’ve masturbated to thoughts of . . . nope, it hadn’t been Thor that was on his mind the night before. It was the OTHER blond.

Brian had pleasured himself, repeatedly, over and over, all night long, to thoughts of ‘the little twink that could’. Those eyes, that fucking mouth . . . that nebulous ‘something’ that, though the kid was virginal in so many ways, spoke to Brian about ‘Could Be’, ‘Want To’, and ‘Why Not’ . . .

Brian shook himself out of his reverie as he pulled open the warehouse door and made his way inside. He was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He should have guessed Theodore would be waiting just inside, eyeing his watch and taking note on his tablet of exactly how late Brian really was.

“Not a fucking word, Theodore . . .” Brian growled as he pushed past the persnickety man.

Ted finally looked up from his ledger, “hell, Bri, you look like shit . . .”

Ted took in Brian’s way too casual wear, the sleep deprived eyes, and the hair that looked like it was STILL fucking someone. He’d never, in all the years he’d known Brian, ever seen him looking less than put together. As Brian stepped around him, Ted grimaced at the distinct smell emanating from his friend. Either Brian had just left a bathhouse, or . . . or . . . Ted could not even fathom an ‘Or’. Brian smelled like sex warmed over. And not in a positive way either.

Justin shifted from foot to foot as he read over his lines and thought about what was needed from him for the next scene. He looked around, still not finding Brian, and started to get a little worried by all the mostly naked extras on the set that day. This did not bode well for his ability to get through whatever crazy fantasy Daphne had cooked up for him this time. He really did need to have a talk with that girl. She was definitely getting way too into seeing her best friend in, shall we say, compromising positions.

Justin shook his head and went back to perusing the script. From what he was reading, it looked like they were doing a loose interpretation of ‘The King and I’ with Justin as the school teacher and Brian as the King. The extras were to be the harem. But as time dragged and still no Brian, he became increasingly nervous.

It got worse when Ted and Daphne started discussing ways they could do the vignette without the big brunet so as not to waste the day or the money they were paying the extra actors. They had tossed around the idea of Justin fucking his way through the harem in a fit of pique, which the blond had roundly rejected on the premise that his refractory time was nowhere near that short. If they wanted that, they’d have to wait for Brian.

Then they suggested Justin play the part of the King with one of the extras standing in for the gay version of ‘Anna’. After a few scenes, though, they realized that given his lack of height, he would end up looking ridiculous; Ted had somehow managed to hire no one shorter, so all his dance partners were taller than Justin was. Not to mention, most of them couldn’t do a waltz if their lives depended on it. Fully half didn’t even know what a waltz was, thinking it was some kind of German sausage.

At the rate they were going, with Brian already two hours late, they were never going to get this done. Daphne was jabbering at him, getting even more dangerously creative about how they were going to revise the scene, when the missing ‘King’ finally stumbled in. Literally. Which really wasn’t very confidence inspiring.

Justin decided it was time to take matters into his own hands as he got a really good look at a really bad looking Brian making a beeline for the bathroom.

He pulled Daphne to the side, away from prying eyes and ears. “Look, Daph, is there any way we can send everyone home and reschedule them for tomorrow?”

Daphne’s face scrunched in confusion. “Why would we do that?”

Justin glanced toward the closed bathroom door. “Did you see Brian just now? He looks terrible. He’s probably sick or something,” Justin hedged his bets, hoping the possibility of contagion and Daphne’s fear of germs would get him what he wanted.

“Sick?” Daphne repeated, as Ted moved to join them.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Brian was brushing his teeth so hard and his tongue so far back that he was gagging on his toothbrush. But damn, he really hated that day-after film in his mouth. He brushed and gagged again, rinsed, wet his hair, shoved it back from his face, and washed his pits. He slapped on some deodorant, a little aftershave, and hoped he no longer stunk like the ‘jack-rag’ he’d smelled like when he’d woken up. There wasn’t much he could do about his clothes, but he wouldn’t be wearing them long anyway, so whatever.

Ted had his doubts about Brian being ‘sick’. But Daphne pushed hard to shut production down for the day when the unmistakeable sounds of gagging could be heard from the bathroom. She most certainly did not want to be sued for putting anyone in danger of catching anything. And even if it was just a cold, she reasoned , if half the crew got sick too, there would be even more time lost.

Ted checked his ledger, made a face over the loss of revenue, then mumbled to himself the entire way across the warehouse to tell the extras to come back tomorrow to finish out their work hours.

Brian exited the bathroom to find Justin staring at him, Ted glaring at him, Daphne with a surgical mask covering the bottom half of her face, and all three of them tapping their feet impatiently.

“What?” he demanded, arms thrown wide, inviting them to do their worst.

Ted scoffed, rubbed his forehead, and ambled off, knowing nothing he could say would make a difference anyway.

Daphne piped into the fray, “Tell me you know how to waltz,” as if daring him to say the opposite.

Brian hesitated. “Uh, o . . . kay. I can waltz?” he parroted, clearly confused.

Justin stomped his foot in a charmingly peevish move. “You didn’t read the script! Again!” he accused.

Brian sagged, his whole body seemingly saying ‘is that all’. “It’s porn. Not ‘Gone With The Wind’. How fucking hard can it be? Mouth stupid, inane dialogue and then insert tab A into slot B. Nobody’s going to watch this for the fucking acting,” he demurred, and then noted the unconvinced looks still shooting his way. “Fuck, I have a headache,” he complained as he moved around the blockade of disapproval, looking for painkillers.

Finding a bottle of something on a nearby dressing table, he dumped a pile of painkillers into his hand, not caring how many there were, just that they got inside him quickly. He chased them down with orange juice, grimacing when he turned the bottle and noticed the generic label.

“Figures. The tightwad,” he muttered, glaring at Ted.

Daphne poked Brian in the stomach, “Go home. Get some rest. And for fuck’s sake - READ THE SCRIPT!” she hollered at him before stomping off in her own little fit of pique.

Brian rubbed absently at the spot where she’d jabbed him and turned a raised brow at Justin. “What the fuck is going on here?”

Justin thought about stomping off too, simply because his co-star was so dense he still hadn’t picked up on the fact that he was the reason the set was shut down for the day. But he didn’t. He figured that someone needed to dial back the queening and, for once, it might as well be him.

“You’re late. Really, really, late. And you look like shit. And I’ll bet you can’t even waltz, which, if you’d read the script, you’d know you need to be able to do for our scene today.”

Brian didn’t say anything.

Justin continued. “You don’t, do you? Know how to waltz?”

Brian went with bravado. “What the hell kind of porn scene has waltzing in it anyway? What the fuck shit is your friend writing? Crazy assed . . .” his words degenerated into desultory noises.

“If you haven’t noticed yet,” Justin got closer and whispered, “this is not regular porn. This is porn for straight women. You know, the women that buy romance novels and watch cheesy chick flicks. The same women that don’t get those things at home and look for it online. We aren’t here - getting paid - for MEN. We are here, getting paid by and for, WOMEN,” he hissed. “Not to mention that the writer for this production is one of those women.”

Brian snarled. He certainly didn’t need or want THAT reminder.

Still, a paycheck was a paycheck. “No,” he said, leaning closer to Justin, “I can’t waltz, okay?”

“Fuck,” Justin swore, rolling his eyes. “I knew it!”

Justin took the lead. Literally.

He’d dragged a griping Brian to the parking lot, demanded to know which vehicle was his, then plopped his ass in the passenger seat and said, as if Brian’s name were Jeeves, “Take us somewhere with a floor big enough to dance.”

Justin stayed silent all the way to the corner of Fuller and Tremont, where Brian pulled into the curb. He kept his mouth shut, still pissed, as the brunet led the way into what Justin thought was just another warehouse. He eyed Brian as they rode the elevator to the third floor, noting that the painkillers must have started working because the big guy didn’t look nearly as tired as he had before.

Brian jerked the gate up when they reached his floor, completely disinterested in whatever the blond had planned and really irritated at the way he’d been ordered around like the fucking help. He unlocked the big metal door and slid it to the side, not bothering to invite the younger man in or do anything else that might be considered polite. Instead, he started stripping off his clothes the minute he stepped inside, leaving a trail behind him as he made his way up the steps, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom, not caring that he had left the door to his loft or the bathroom open.

Justin watched it all in silent fascination. When he heard the shower turn on, he started gathering Brian’s discarded clothes, heading in the direction his co-star had taken. He climbed the short steps, only to be confronted by the most blatantly sexual - in a non-sexual way - bedroom he’d ever been in. Not that he’d been in many, but . . . yeah.

The bed itself was huge, with plenty of room to move around in, or - if you had more than two people staying over - plenty of room to share comfortably. Hmmmm . . . It was also low to the floor, on a platform that ensured stability. No creaking or squeaking bed frames or springs here to annoy the ears or fuck with one’s rhythm. The wood ledge running all the way around was fashionable and functional, yet leaving the viewer with images of bodies bent over and braced against it while being fucked into oblivion.

Justin swallowed hard, found the clothes hamper and dropped Brian’s dirties inside, studiously ignoring the gray-sheeted elephant in the room.

As he turned the opposite way (to avoid looking at the bed again), he managed to get a sniper’s view of Brian in the shower, head thrown back to the spray, lazily soaping his junk and muttering something about princesses.

Thinking that Brian had been speaking to him, Justin stepped forward, through the door frame. “What was that?”

Brian didn’t even bat an eye, not that he ever did, but definitely not this time. “I said,” he enunciated louder, not moving an inch or stopping what he was doing, “I’m surrounded by fucking princesses and their stupid demands.”

“Daphne is hardly a princess, Brian. She’s one of the least high-maintenance women I know. Her stuff sells like crazy and she knows what she’s talking about.” Justin defended his lifelong friend, while trying to keep his eyes from Brian’s growing erection.

Brian eyeballed the fidgety man in the doorway as he let the water rinse the soap away. “I wasn’t talking about HER. I was talking about you and Ted,” he snarked as he flipped off the taps and stepped out of the enclosure, doing nothing to hide himself.

Justin gulped air like a caught fish as Brian leaned really close, reached out an arm, lips almost touching Justin’s . . . grabbed the towel from the bar behind the blond, and ran it over his hair before wrapping it around his waist.

Once Brian realized that Justin would not be swayed from his plan to teach him how to waltz, he resigned himself to just getting it the fuck over with as quickly as possible. Having thrown on a pair of jeans, he started shoving furniture out of the way, until his living room was bare, but for the hardwood floor.

“Don’t you want to get dressed, or . . . something?” Justin tried to make it sound casual, but a nearly naked Brian was really wreaking havoc on his already distressed senses.

Brian smirked, rolled his lips in, tilted his head back, and gave Justin his best come-hither look. “Why? Does it bother you?”

Justin swallowed again, watched as Brian walked barefoot to the liquor cart and poured himself a drink, downing it in one long pull, his Adam’s apple bobbing sexily as he swallowed.

“Not especially,” Justin replied, though his voice cracking at the end belied his words.

He gulped, internally berating himself for speaking at all, and trying desperately to regain his composure. Justin dropped his gaze, hoping to gather some composure, only to encounter Brian’s bare feet when they came into view as Brian walked closer.

‘He has sexy feet too? Fuck, I think I’m gonna die. How can someone have sexy FEET?’ Justin’s thoughts raced a mile a minute, overcome by Brian’s sheer presence. His blatant . . . Justin couldn’t even think of a word that fully embodied the man. Nothing was big enough, bold enough, sexy enough.

“Hey,” Brian barked, trying to get the kid’s attention when he kept staring at the floor. “We gonna do this or what?”

“Do? What?” Justin stammered.

“The. Waltz?” Brian spoke as if to the village idiot while making a face that implied the same.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Justin replied, gathering his thoughts and clamping down on his libido. “You have music?”

Brian snorted, went to the player, programmed the tuner, and hit play.

They spent the next few hours with Justin teaching Brian the simple steps, both of them counting out, “one, two, three, and one, two, three,” as Justin led Brian around the floor in practiced moves.

When Brian had had enough, and Justin’s brain cells were nearly fried from overexposure to the still-naked and highly evocative man, the brunet thankfully called it quits and grabbed his liquor bottle of choice before dramatically flopping onto a large fluffy floor cushion that was conveniently waiting in the far corner. Not that Justin would EVER be brave enough to call Brian out on his own princess-ness. Just the thought of voicing that pejorative with respect to Brian had Justin giggling. Brian glared at him from the floor, rolling his eyes as he lay there swigging his drink.

Justin lowered himself cross-legged into the spot next to Brian. “That takes real talent.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Drinking. Lying down like you are. Without spilling all over yourself.”

“Yeah?” Brian huffed. “Got lots of practice, you know. One,” Brian lifted his head. “Two,” he put the bottle to his lips. “Three,” he took a pull. “And,” he swallowed, grinning like the Cheshire cat at his own joke.

Justin swatted his chest. “You’re terrible,” he admonished. “Gimme some of that,” he demanded, snatching the bottle away and chugging a fair amount of the contents before going red in the face and coughing.

“Pussy,” Brian teased, taking the bottle back and repeating his ‘one, two, three’ maneuver, making Justin laugh outright this time.

Brian couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. The kid’s smile was downright infectious. He smiled back, hitting Justin square on with his devil-may-care, ne’er-do-well grin that revealed a never before seen dimple just to the outside of his sin-inducing lips.

Justin gasped for air, choked on his own spit, and nearly fell over as Brian began pounding on his back to ‘help’. Justin quickly tried to wave him off - the man smelled good enough to eat - and without thinking, chugged another glug of the brew. It went down better than the first but still left his tongue burning and his gut rolling. At least Justin could breathe and Brian had backed away. That was something at least.

Brian tried to sound casual as he asked Justin how he felt about what they were doing.

“I like to dance,” he said, thinking Brian had meant their lessons.

Brian rolled his eyes, noting the liquor was already going to Justin’s head. “I meant the porn for women,” Brian nearly choked on the last word.

“It’s not so bad. Sex is sex, right?” Justin shrugged and glugged again.

“Uh, NO?!” Brian stated emphatically, rolling onto his side and bracing on his elbow. “But I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about the ‘romantic’ shit.” Brian said the word like it left a dookie pile in his mouth, and Justin giggled at that image too.

When he caught his breath, Justin stated matter of factly, “it is a bit cheesy at times, but it’s not too bad, I guess. Daph tries hard to make it not too awful. At least it’s not like that stupid line from that one movie . . .” Justin waved his hands around like he was going to fish it from thin air then lit up like a Christmas tree before putting a fake solemn look on his face and declaring, “You complete me . . .” as he batted his eyelashes wildly.

Brian groaned but came back with more cheese, “You had me at ‘Hello’.”

Justin laughed, really liking this side of Brian and wanting to keep it going however he could as Brian took another drink. “Or, or, how about, ‘I was looking up. It was the nearest thing to heaven - you were there.’’’

Justin snorted his hilarity as Brian nodded, getting into the game. He stood up, waving the bottle as he smirked, “You know, it’s dangerous for you to be in the frozen food section . . . you could melt all this stuff.”

Justin scrunched up his nose, not recognizing where that quote came from but not wanting to say so. “How about,” he folded his hands together and pulled them tight to his chest with a beseeching look on his face, “If I could ask God one thing, it would be to stop the moon. Stop the moon and make this night and your beauty last forever.”  

Brian was dumbfounded. Justin’s eyes were closed now as he played his part of their game, and he was surprised that he really did find the lad beautiful. Brian’s stomach rolled, and it had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. His gaze dropped to Justin’s smiling, slightly parted lips, and he dragged in a breath, shifting to his knees right in front of where Justin sat and startling those lovely blues open. He leaned forward, speaking so low his voice was barely audible, and let his lips brush against Justin’s so his every word would be felt as well as heard. “No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.”

Justin could only stare back, afraid to move. Afraid to move forward and seal their lips together. Afraid to move away and lose the chance to kiss Brian again. To be kissed by Brian again.

Justin blinked.

Brian’s head tilted ever-so-slightly.

There was utter silence, but for their heartbeats, for several long moments.

Until Brian shoved to his feet, checked the time, and informed Justin they were going to Babylon to dance ‘for real’.

Justin was just drunk enough that he didn’t put up a fight when Brian hauled him by the scruff of his shirt through the doors of Babylon.

Brian was just drunk enough not to care that he was entering his favorite club towing along the stumbling neophyte that he couldn’t get out of his mind. He’d almost let his self-control slip back at the loft, leaning over to kiss that ridiculously beautiful blond before, thankfully, he’d come to his senses and scrambled to his feet. Brian Kinney did NOT fuck anyone more than once, at least not outside of his work at the porn studio. And he definitely didn’t have juvenile, teenaged, romantic longings. That was gross, hetero nonsense!

Brian decided right off the bat he needed to score some E to regain his equilibrium and forget that he’d quoted ‘Gone with the Wind’. How much gayer could he get, for fuck’s sake? He quickly scanned the main room at Babylon for Anita and in the process spied Emmett out on the dance floor doing his ‘praise Jesus’ move. He was instantly grateful that, at the very least, he wasn’t THAT gay. Emmett carried it well, but ‘flame’ was not Brian’s color.

A few more seconds of searching and he finally met with success. Anita was there, lurking in her usual corner and dispensing her panoply of lifesaving drugs. He’d dance much better after one of those pills had dissolved on his tongue. Then he could show this young whippersnapper a thing or two.

Justin struggled just to keep up in the crowd as his eyes bulged at the varying degrees of nudity and molestation going on around them as they walked. It wasn’t lost on him that the crowd parted for Brian as if he were Moses at the Red Sea. Justin thought that image particularly funny and texted Daphne the thought, along with a picture of Brian, tongue extended, tab of E hanging on the end.

‘Where RU?’ she sent back.

‘Babylon. Wy btr thn the time we snuck nto PopperZ’ he replied.

‘UR DRUNK!’ she accused.

‘Um . . . yeah? So?’

‘WITH BRIAN?!’

Justin laughed and shoved the phone in his pocket when Brian turned to offer him a tab of E as well. He’d never taken drugs before . . . well, except for the pot he’d smoked with Daphne in the ninth grade . . . but he figured, what the hell. He was already buzzed so he might as well be high too, right?

As the tab melted away, Brian grabbed the front of Justin’s pants and dragged him by the dick to the dancefloor. Justin was still only just lucid enough to catch the looks of envy tossed his way. He was also just drunk enough to glare insouciantly back at the jealous ones.

Brian reached the center of the floor just as the drugs fully hit Justin’s system. The lights were brighter, the music better, the colors more vibrant, as the blond whirled in a circle, only to be caught up in Brian’s arms and pressed tightly to Brian’s body. Justin didn’t have any more thoughts after that. Just feelings. The feeling of Brian’s chest rubbing against his own as they moved to the music. The feeling of Brian’s arms at his waist, pulling their hips closer together, the feeling of Brian’s breath, feathering the hair at his temple, and Brian’s sheen of sweat, mixing with his own as they danced together, just like that, for over an hour.

Brian licked up the side of Justin’s neck, feeling the slight body go nearly limp with pleasure, his every response since they’d come in the door setting Brian on a crash course with his own libido. If he’d wanted Justin with a passion before, he wanted him desperately now. Justin’s blissed expression, his compliant body, even his fucking SMELL, had Brian clamoring to be back inside him. To direct those reactions. To pull out the sounds of pleasure from his young co-star that had driven him to nearly masturbate himself to a broken dick while thinking of him.

But he couldn’t.

No. He wouldn’t.

That would break the rules.

But there was always work tomorrow. He’d be back inside him tomorrow . . . And Brian had to console himself with that. It did nothing, however, to assuage his needs right that moment. Nor did it do anything to take care of the huge boner his dance partner had been sporting for the last hour.

Hmmm . . .

Brian spun Justin around and pulled the slightly narrower hips into the cradle of his own and, arms wrapped securely around the younger man’s waist, walked them to the bar where he immediately ordered water, making sure Justin drank a whole bottle before attempting to have a conversation. When it looked like most of the after-effects of the booze and drugs were abated and Justin was again lucid, Brian leaned in to speak over the noise of the crowd, not missing the shiver his nearness left in its wake.

“I believe you said you’re a top.” He smirked at the gleam that entered Justin’s eyes. “No, not me. Someone else. If you’re ready to have sex in public for the first time, that is.”

The gleam left Justin’s eyes, replaced by a bit of fear and a whole lot of interest as he swallowed around his suddenly dry tongue. “Okay,” he croaked, hesitatingly.

Brian gave him props for showing he was terrified as well as enticed by the prospect, rather than simply trying to hide his trepidation.

“Let’s go to the back room and you can show me your moves.”

It was as close as Brian was willing to get to admitting he wanted to see what the kid looked like when he topped. The closest he would get to admitting he wanted to watch. The closest he would get to admitting that he was already turned on by the mere idea of this neophyte in action.

Daphne had headed straight for Babylon the moment she’d realized her best friend was drunk and out in public with the biggest player in the gayborhood. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Justin to have fun, or get his rocks off, or whatever, it was just that she was sure Brian spelled heartbreak for her too-easy-to-read friend. Maybe no one else would notice, but she had. She’d seen the looks Justin had given Brian on the sly and the mere fact the brunet had been the one to take his cherry made Justin more psychologically inclined to fall for him. So she’d come to the club, hoping to forestall the fall, so to speak. After all, she needed them to get along on the set. If they became lovers and then fought, all her hard work would go down the drain like so much dirty porn water.

When Daphne reached the entrance to Babylon, she was more than a bit irritated by the bouncer’s knowing look - as if straight women were drawn to the club like bees to honey. Then again, she reminded herself, that was probably true . . . otherwise there’d be no need for Backdoor Adventures. So, instead of scowling at the muscular doorman, she sent him a sweet smile and pushed her way inside.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much of anything in the heaving throng, much less espy her bestie, because everyone was so much taller than she was. Judiciously making use of her elbows to forge through the crowd. Daphne eventually maneuvered her way to the stairs and climbed up onto the catwalk, almost immediately catching sight of Justin plastered against Brian in the center of the dance floor.

Brian certainly didn’t look sick any longer. He looked more than recovered if the way the two were grinding against each other was any indication. They weren’t so much dancing as fucking each other with all their clothes on. It was so enticing to watch that Daphne almost forgot why she’d come to the club in the first place.

Damn, she needed a straight man - or at least a dildo, which of course she hadn’t thought to bring with her - just so she could get some relief. She feared she was ready to spontaneously combust merely watching the men who continued to frot to ‘Red Light Special’. But, really, it would be so much better with a bit of stimulation . . .

Daphne sighed and tried to get back on task when she saw Brian lean down and whisper something in Justin’s ear, before they reluctantly separated and the gorgeous drink of water pulled her friend toward the bar. Oh, fuck, no, she moaned to herself as she looked down and saw Justin take some kind of pill from the tip of Brian’s tongue. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was incredibly erotic, especially since the blond swiveled his crotch across Brian’s as he swallowed.

At this rate, her friend was going to be as wiped out tomorrow as Brian had been that morning. Nooo, they couldn’t afford another day without any action. Daphne wended her way downstairs as quickly as possible - not an easy task given the tight press of sweaty bodies between her and her destination. By the time she’d reached the bar, however, both men had disappeared.

“Where’d they go?” she shouted at one of the bartenders, congratulating herself for not getting completely distracted by his ripped torso and piercing mint-green eyes.

“Who?” the bartender asked, rolling his eyes at the silly girl. She wasn’t going to find what she was looking for at Babylon. No how, no way.

“Kinney and his companion,” Daphne shouted to be heard over the noise in the club.

The hottie barkeep rolled his eyes again before gesturing toward the backroom. If he wasn’t at the bar or on the dance floor, where else could the stud possibly be?

Daphne almost salivated at the idea of watching Brian in action in a backroom - a place she’d never quite dared enter before this. Focus, she told herself sternly. She was here to rescue her friend, not drool over Brian. Uh-oh, she suddenly realized that Brian might be about to fuck Justin in the backroom. If that happened, Justin would never ever get over Brian.

A string of the most unladylike epithets flying from her lips, Daphne pushed and shoved her way through the crowd until she finally reached the backroom. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, the feisty young woman slowly worked her way through the room. Where the hell were they? They should be impossible to miss.

Setting aside all thoughts of the research she could be doing if she didn’t need to save Justin from falling in love with Brian, she continued looking for them. She had to approach a couple of tall, dark-haired men pretty closely as they pumped their hips into their shorter companions, who were otherwise hidden by their larger bodies. It was the only way she could determine whether or not they were Brian and Justin; that’s what she told herself anyhow. Daphne earned quite a few very rude ‘Fuck-offs’ in the process - really not called for at all in her estimation. Why bother to have sex in public if you didn’t want to be admired?

Then, after she gradually made her way around a chain fuck involving four men - well, she had to pause for a few minutes to suss out the mechanics of it, right? - her jaw dropped almost to the floor

She was actually relieved not to have to go any farther into the depths of the back room when she finally found them. To her amazement, Brian was not fucking Justin. Instead, he was leaning against the wall getting sucked off while avidly watching Justin fucking a tall, slender man - who looked amazingly like a Brian clone - next to him.

Wait. What the fuck was going on? Daphne had never expected THIS.

No way was she going to interrupt. Somehow she was going to have to remember every single thrust, grunt, and swivel for her personal spank bank, as well as using it to titillate viewers of the website or in her stories. Grateful that Brian and Justin were so focused on each other - even more so than on their tricks - Daphne placed a hand against the wall opposite the two men, preparatory to settling in for some viewing pleasure. If only she had some popcorn, she wistfully thought. And then, eww! She removed her spunk-covered hand from the wall, forced to wipe it off on her pants since she didn’t see any come towels anywhere nearby. Oh well, she mused as philosophically as possible, this WAS Babylon’s backroom after all.

She promptly forgot about the sticky mess when Justin’s Brian-clone began groaning louder and louder. “Fuck, yeah. Right there. Yeah.”

Damn, she’d had no idea her best friend could move like that. If she had, she’d have done more than think about asking him to take her virginity. Too late now, drat it all, but it definitely gave her ideas for future scenes she could write.

Daphne quickly glanced at Brian, whose eyes remained riveted on the younger man. She, along with everyone else on the set, had taken note of their nearly instant chemistry and attraction, but this was something else altogether. Holy, hottie, hell, they were fucking incredible to watch like this! Brian sped up his thrusts to match Justin’s tempo, obviously not caring if the receptacle on his knees in front of him could handle it or not. Hmm, wondered Daphne, was it possible that Brian wished he were in his clone’s place? This was getting curiouser and curiouser.

The Brian-clone suddenly screamed, “Ahhh!” as his jizz spurted all over the wall in front of him.

Justin hammered into the man twice more, before moaning his own, “Fuuuck,” and briefly slumping against the trick’s back with his release.

Simultaneously, Brian unloaded into his trick’s mouth, not emitting a sound in the process, but with his eyes blazing into Justin’s in satisfaction. He then pushed his trick away, uncaring that the guy fell down on his ass, his still-hard dick wrapped in one hand, obviously wanting to come himself.

“Not bad,” Brian opined as he buttoned up while Justin gently pulled out of his trick’s ass, removed his condom, tied it off, and tossed it toward a trashcan.

“Thanks,” Brian’s trick muttered, happy to have sated the Stud of Babylon, even if he hadn’t gotten off himself.

“Not you. Him,” Brian clarified, pointing at Justin. He didn’t even notice the crestfallen look on the trick’s face.

In contrast, Justin acknowledged the Brian-clone with a quick, “Thanks,” and a swat on the ass.

The lookalike grinned at Justin and said, “You can do me again anytime, Blondie.”

Me too, Daphne thought to herself as she rushed toward the bathroom. Her bestie didn’t need her help. She, however, needed to clean up a bit and enjoy a post-orgasmic cigarette . . . stat!