Chapter 13 - The Shoot is Shot.

Where the doo-doo was The Daddy?

Poor little Kevan was sure he’d been abandoned by the nice big warm good-smelling person-thing that he called The Daddy. It had been FOREVER since he’d been there when Kevan woke up and needed to have his tummy filled with the warm yummy stuff that The Daddy used to give him. It’s not like Kevan was starving to death or anything - the Yellow One and the Silly One were still around, of course, and whenever he cried one of them would shove a hard plastic thing in his face that had warmish liquid in it that would soothe his tummy when he sucked hard on it - but it just wasn’t the same as having The Daddy.

The Daddy was really warm. Kevan liked the way the warm skin felt against his soft little cheek when The Daddy would hold him. He also really, really, really liked the way The Daddy smelled. The hard plastic thing with the liquid smelled really nasty and it was cold on the outside even when the stuff inside was warm. It didn’t taste all that great, either. Kevan also missed the deep, comforting rumbly sound of The Daddy’s voice and the way he’d always make the happy mouth sounds to him when Kevan was in his arms.

Neither the Yellow One nor the Silly One were quite the same as The Daddy.

Right then the Yellow One was joggling Kevan and making unhappy mouth sounds at him. “Blah, blah blah, Kevan. Blah. Papa blah blah, Kevan. Blah, Kevan, blah blah blah blah for Papa. Please, Kevan. Please.”

Obviously whatever the Yellow One was trying to do was only annoying Kevan further since the baby’s cries were only getting louder.

Why didn’t the Yellow One go get The Daddy? Kevan was tired of all the doo-doo. He wanted The Daddy and he wanted him right NOW! Stop with all the jiggling and the babbling and get The Daddy!

‘Why, oh why,’ Kevan wondered inside his brilliant little infant mind. ‘Why must all my people-things be so difficult to train. They just don’t listen!’

“Justin! Justin, blah blah blah!” the Silly One came running into Kevan’s lovely brown and green room holding a small black thing in it’s hand and wearing that silly look on it’s face that showed all its teeth, shouting out loud mouth sounds. “Blah blah blah, Brian! Here!”

The Silly One handed the small black thing to the Yellow One, who thankfully had stopped jiggling Kevan. Yellow One made his usual ‘blah blah blah’ sounds into the black thing for a minute or two - completely ignoring Kevan’s best screeching wails - and then he held the black thing up to the side of Kevan’s face.

It took Kevan a minute or two to figure out what was going on after that. But, slowly, the sounds coming out of the small black thing penetrated his completely upset crying jag. Kevan paused in his loud unhappy sounds to listen more clearly.

It sounded just like The Daddy! It was the same low rumbly happy sounds that The Daddy always made to Kevan! Kevan was ecstatic!

Several minutes later, Kevan finally started to feel sleepy again. He loved hearing The Daddy’s mouth sounds. It wasn’t as good as having The Daddy here with him and filling his tummy with the yummy warmness he wanted, but it at least reassured Kevan that he hadn’t been completely abandoned. As he dropped off into a happy, contented slumber, Kevan saw the Yellow One and the Silly One smiling at him and he gave them back a little baby version of the Yellow One’s special happy face smile.

‘Maybe these people-things were learning after all!’

Brian hit the button on his phone that ended the frantic call he’d got from Emmett. He snorted a little mirthless laugh and shook his head as he put the phone back away in his jacket pocket. He didn’t think it was possible for two men to be such overwrought drama queens. And, from what he’d heard, it must be contagious because Kevan sounded like he was in full queen-out too. Or would that be a ‘Prince-Out’? All Brian knew was that he was glad he wasn’t there at the moment because he really didn’t need all that drama.

It had been nice to hear Kevan’s little babbling noises though - well, at least it had been nice as soon as the little terror had ceased with the caterwauling. Brian was amazed that something he thought of as so minor, like just hearing his father’s voice, could have calmed the nipper down as easily as it seemed to. Remarkably, it seemed to calm him down just as much. Brian hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing his sonnyboy until now. ‘Sheesh, he really was at risk of turning into a lezbo’, he thought, briefly palming his dick to reassure himself it was still present and accounted for.

“Mr. Kinney?” Brian’s lesbian moment was thankfully interrupted by the entrance of the obsequious production assistant that had been trailing along behind him ever since he’d landed in L.A. for the Armani photoshoot two days before.

“Yeah, Peter, what’s up?” Brian acknowledged the skinny, pimple-faced kid who bustled into the small dressing room where he’d been waiting for over an hour now.

“It’s Piers, Mr. Kinney. And I got your skinny caramel latte for you, Mr. Kinney,” the boy juggled the myriad of items in his arms - which included a suit in a dry cleaning bag, a clipboard, a tablet computer and his phone -  sufficiently so that he could hand off a paperboard coffee cup. “Also, Mr. Marsh said to tell you that the lighting changes are almost finished so shooting should begin again in about fifteen minutes. Wallace will be back in to touch up your hair and makeup a couple of minutes beforehand.”

“Yeah, right. I believe that’s what you said forty-five minutes ago,” Brian was disgusted by the whole hurry up and wait process of the photoshoot. “Tell me, is there any reason - any valid reason, that is - why I have to stay holed up here in this stupid tiny room until they’re ready for me?”

“Of course not, Mr. Kinney,” the fawning toady replied with a tone that was just two shades too enthusiastic for Brian’s current mood. “The other models are all out in the Greatroom, I think. That’s the first setting the photographer wanted to use today anyway, so you might as well be there as anywhere else. Plus, there’s a television, internet setup and a craft services table with food in the kitchen out there as well. If you want to head out there, I’ll make sure to come round you up as soon as Wallace is ready for you.”

Brian was already halfway out the door, the grovelling assistant trailing at his heels like a puppy, before the man had even finished his statement. “Thanks, uh . . . Pedro. Just don’t bother me until they’re ACTUALLY ready for me - for real this time - okay.”

“Of course, Mr. Kinney. Whatever you say, Mr. Kinney. And, it’s Piers, Mr. Kinney,” the bootlicker’s voice faded almost as quickly as Brian’s attention as he headed towards the central rooms of the huge house.

Brian was still in awe of the sleek design and modern architecture of the Palm Springs house the Armani people had chosen for today’s shoot. It was only about 2 hours outside of LA proper, but it felt like he was in a whole different world. Not only was the desert scenery they’d driven through breathtaking, but the local architecture was phenomenal. The house they were in today was simply stunning. The main rooms were all located in a large domed area with the living room area in the center, and the kitchen, dining areas and other nooks radiating out around the walls. All the lines were clean and sleek and round making the whole feel like there wasn’t any wasted space. It was a room that Brian thoroughly approved of. The rest of the bedrooms, an office and sundry other rooms were all connected to the main dome with short hallways - each smaller room a dome of its own - so that the entire complex resembled a child’s model of some archaic molecule. It was fantastic. And even more amazing considering it had been built in the late 1950’s - the futuristic tone of the house belying its age. Brian loved it.

Brian made his way to the kitchen area of the Greatroom - set up on the south rim of the main dome. The table set up next to the wall was heaped with an extravagant array of gourmet food, treats and sweets as well as more substantial fare, along with various items that the crew might want to peruse during their downtime like industry magazines and newspapers. Brian popped a grape into his mouth and grabbed a copy of GQ as he passed by - noticing with a touch of smugness that it was his very own handsome mug gracing the cover of this month’s issue.

Off to one side of the craft services table, there was another sitting area, this one less formal, where several people were seated while they too cooled their heels. Brian nodded at a group of three men who he assumed were most likely fellow models. He figured he might as well join them, noting happily as he neared that at least two of them were deliciously underdressed compared to the rest of the crew and other lackies wandering around trying to look busy.

“Pull up a seat, mate,” said a tall, thin, scruffy bearded gentleman dressed in a casual suit, pointing with a hand already encumbered by a dangling, ashy cigarette towards a vacant chair nearby.

     
“Scruffy, Abs and The Package”

Brian nodded and took the seat. “They let you smoke in here?” Brian asked as the mere sight of Scruffy’s cigarette rekindled a craving that he’d thought his months of pregnancy and new parenthood should have squelched. Brian even found himself unconsciously patting his jacket pocket as if looking for his own pack before he realized what he was doing. Luckily, though, the guy distracted him by answering before Brian’s cigarette addiction had time to fully reassert itself.

“They let ME do anything I like, mate,” Scruffy announced petulantly with an exaggerated Aussie accent, staring at Brian with a snooty expression. “I’m booked out for the next two years. They were damn lucky I was even available for this shoot. I fucking HATE L.A. I wouldn’t even be here if my agent hadn’t insisted . . .”

While Brian normally applauded self-assurance, this guy was so fucking in love with himself that it made even Brian want to gag. As Scruffy went on about his busy schedule and all the upcoming photo shoots he would be attending all over the world, Brian intentionally tuned out the big windbag. Besides, he was far more interested in the two half-dressed beauties in robes that were sitting nearby.

The first one, a dark-haired adonis with smoldering bedroom eyes was dressed only in skimpy black briefs and a black silk robe that was hanging unfastened from his shoulders. This guy had abs that were fucking amazing. Talk about a washboard! Even just slouching on the couch, his stomach muscles were taut and rippling enough to make Brian drool. A delicious mental image of him stroking along each and every one of those tight abdominal ridges with his tongue popped into Brian’s head almost immediately - only to be almost as quickly quashed when Abs completely ignored him and instead continued to flirt with the trashy looking crew girl standing next to him. Brian shook his head at the disgusting hetero sight. The girl wasn’t even that attractive. And really, she HAD to know that a lacy purple bra did not, in and of itself, constitute a top even if it was accompanied by a little knit jacket that barely covered her shoulders let alone any part of her torso. If THAT was what Abs liked in a woman, Brian was almost glad the guy wasn’t gay.

Which left model number three - a beefy looking ash-blond who was sprawled sideways over the arm of the chair next to Brian’s in a way that made his plush terry-cloth robe gape open artistically, allowing Brian to admire the very nice package the guy was hiding in his white Armani Exchange briefs. The guy tilted his head to one side almost coquettishly when he noticed exactly where Brian’s eyes had fixated. Brian beamed him one of his old, sinfully decadent, obviously predatory smirks. The Package batted his long dark blond eyelashes back at him and allowed one corner of his full lips to tweak up into just a smidgen of a smile. If that look hadn’t been enough to let Brian know his unspoken offer had been willingly accepted, the way The Package shifted in his chair, making sure Brian got a good look at the way his rapidly lengthening cock was filling out the front of those now-tight briefs, would have clinched the deal.

And suddenly, Brian had a brilliant idea of how to idle away the remaining break time until the photographer was ready for him.

Approximately ninety-five seconds later, Brian found himself locked into the small guest bathroom closest to the kitchen of the photo shoot house with The Package on his knees at Brian’s feet. Brian leaned back against the door, his head back, eyes closed, enjoying the sensual way The Package was rubbing his big hands up and down Brian’s thighs and mouthing at his crotch through the black Armani Exchange jeans he’d been dressed in for the shoot. Brian let his right hand drift down and grab onto the back of the ash-blond head, his fist pulling at a handful of hair.

Shit! It felt so fucking good! So right! And it wasn’t just that he was about to be blown either. It was this long lost sense of freedom he got from simply letting himself act solely for his own pleasure.

It had been so long since he’d tricked - first because of the fucking pregnancy and then because of his domestic servitude to his fledgling family. Not that Brian didn’t adore his son or enjoy being with Justin, but all of that came along with so much obligation. Brian hadn’t really chosen the domesticity he’d fallen into. A year ago he never would have imagined himself as an upstanding family man with a house, a kid and a . . . well, whatever the fuck Justin was. But along with Kevan, Brian got himself a heaping fuck ton of responsibilities. His every action now had consequences for not just himself but also for his son. And all that responsibility was beginning to chafe.

Now he felt free again. The simple act of giving in to his pleasure was so refreshing. He finally felt like himself - picking up a trick, strong-arming him into the nearest semi-private location, ordering him to his knees with only a look, and not having to care about the guy or really even to think at all . . . It was so nice not to have to think. To just allow himself to enjoy a hot and willing body. Brian also felt a resurgence of the power and control tricking always gave him and that just enhanced his pleasure. He felt like his old Studly self. Finally!  

And for at least as long as it took The Package to get his belt undone, the zipper pulled down and his shirt untucked, Brian revelled in the anticipation of dirty, emotionless, anonymous sex.

Then things pretty much went to shit in a shopping cart.

Right as The Package pulled Brian’s jeans down, the guy made this funny little mewling sound and smacked his lips together in anticipation of the feast to come. It wasn’t really an unusual occurrence. Brian had been whimpered and moaned over by thousands of guys in the past. Most of the time the noises guys made didn’t even really register for him unless the trick was overly loud or too needy. But today, for some ungodly reason, the way this guy smacked his lips together reminded Brian of the way Kevan would do the same fucking thing right after he finished nursing. That simple sound instantly conjured up the most adorable image of the baby, lying in Brian’s arms, his perfect little bow shaped lips sleepily pursed together and his wonder-filled dark blue eyes gazing up at his Daddy’s face with pure love.

Those quiet, peaceful minutes with his son were Brian’s favorite moments of each day. The man who’d never wanted children and who always thought he’d suck as a father actually looked forward to those times with his child more than anything else he’d ever imagined. Those interludes always made him feel a serene and fervent joy that he had no words to describe but, now that he’d experienced the sensation, he couldn’t live without.

These thoughts of Kevan that popped into Brian’s mind unfortunately had a very unsexy effect. Not only did they distract Brian from the ministrations of The Package, but they also triggered a let down reflex. It was almost instantaneous. In less than ten seconds after the image of the baby appeared in his mind, Brian felt the first telltale beads of wetness moistening the front of his shirt just below his nipples.

He was simply mortified!

His first reaction was to freeze and hope that it would just stop. But, of course, as soon as he tried to will the completely natural process to stop, it just made the situation worse. He now really regretted the decision he’d made earlier in the day when he thought he’d skip pumping because he was just too rushed getting ready for the shoot. Maybe if he’d taken those ten minutes and subjected himself to the torture of the hated breast pump, he wouldn’t be in this position now.

As usual, regretting his lack of action didn’t really do squat to help him out right that instant.

So, in typical Brian Kinney fashion, the man resorted to the next most effective response - he turned on his ‘Asshole’ persona, roughly shoved The Package’s head away from his crotch with a murmured ‘Fuck Off!’ and practically ran out of the room. Brian didn’t even stop when he almost tripped over the ubiquitous production assistant who had just been on his way to get the model now that the photographer was once again ready.

“Fuck off, Piper!” Brian insisted once again as he bravely ran away, desperately looking for someplace he could ditch the now incriminating evidence of his wet, milk stained shirt.

“It’s Piers, Sir,” the sycophantic voice followed Brian down the hall and back to his dressing room.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Brian purred into the cell phone that he’d propped up on his pillow next to his ear.

“Hey! How was today’s shoot, Brian,” Justin’s soothing low tenor voice came through the phone speaker and did wonderfully relaxing things to Brian’s stressed out mind.

“It was incredibly tedious,” Brian let himself be momentarily distracted by Justin’s question - even though his primary goal for the call had been phone sex and not just friendly chit chat. “Don’t let anyone tell you modeling is a fucking glamorous life. It pretty much sucks - standing around all day waiting for some pretentious fuck to tell you how to hold your head and trying to make your body move into positions nature never intended.”

“I thought you could handle almost any position, Brian,” Justin teased. “Besides, I’m sure that you’ll look gorgeous, no matter how unnatural the position.”

“Well, that’s a given. I ALWAYS look gorgeous,” Brian replied, playing along and remembering just why he always found talking to Justin more pleasurable than most of the men he slept with - the boy had almost as raunchy a sense of humor as he had himself. “The positions I’m fantasizing about right now aren’t all that unnatural though, Sunshine. For instance, there’s the one where you’re on your hands and knees with your tight, sweet ass poking up into the air and just waiting for my dick . . .”

“Mmmmmm. I DO really like that position, Brian,” Justin moaned into the phone.

“Me too, Sunshine,” Brian agreed as he shifted against the pillows of his lonely hotel room bed so he was more comfortable. “Let’s start with that one and see where it gets us. Now, get the big bottle of lube off the nightstand - you’re going to need it - and get naked,” Brian ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Justin readily agreed.

What followed next did indeed involve a lot of lube on the part of both participants, along with much stroking, and fingers inserted in various convenient or not-so-convenient places, all accompanied by lots of grunting and groaning. In the end, excellent phone sex was had by all. The experience was almost sufficient to wipe away the memory of what had NOT happened with The Package earlier that day.

Almost.

However, as Brian was lying there enjoying the post-orgasmic bliss and using the cum pooled on his stomach to draw erotic doodles on his abs - which still weren’t quite as taut and toned as he would like - it reminded him of another distressing moment from earlier in the day.

“Hey, guess what, Sunshine. You know those meal supplement bars that I was getting from Ben? Well, it turns out that they’re horrible for you. I don’t know what Ben was thinking, but they’re definitely NOT gonna help anyone lose weight. They actually have about a million calories in each one.”

“Really? How did you find that out?” For some reason, Justin didn’t sound all that surprised at this revelation. In fact, he sounded just a tad annoyed for some unknown reason.

“After the shoot today I was working out at the hotel gym and one of the Lighting Techs from the shoot joined me,” Brian started to explain. “He’s this huge fucking blond gym bunny who just happens to be from Sweden. Anyway, we spotted each other on the weights for a while and then afterwards, as I was packing shit back into my gym bag, one of those Kalteen Bar things fell out and he saw it. Turns out HE used to use those back when he was a skinny-assed underweight teen. All that Swedish gobbledegook on the packaging actually says it’s supposed to make you GAIN WEIGHT! I’m going to give Ben a ton of shit about that when I get home.”

“Oh . . . You shouldn’t be too tough on him, Brian,” Justin interrupted before Brian could get a full head of steam behind his rant over Ben’s incompetence in suggesting the now hated diet bars. “It’s not Ben’s fault he doesn’t speak Swedish. I’m sure he meant well . . .”

“Fuck that,” Brian grumbled. “I don’t care what he meant. All I care about is finally getting my body back to normal. Between trying to lose the fucking weight and having my tits leaking all the damn time whenever I even think of Kevan, it’s a fucking nightmare. I actually had to go back to my dressing room and use that torture device you call a breast pump in between sets today. While all the other models were lounging around and relaxing I was fighting with that fucking pump thing. I don’t dare try to find someone to even suck me off what with all this shit going on. It’s just so fucking embarrassing, Justin!”

Brian heard an unidentified snorting noise coming from Justin’s end of the phone line. He suspected it was a hastily muffled chuckle and made a mental note to punish the little twat later for daring to laugh at his untenable predicament. Leaking tits really was NOT a laughing matter.

“Sorry, Brian,” Justin finally replied, although Brian was sure he heard a heavy note of sarcastic humor in there along with the faux-apology. “I guess you’ll just have to save up all your fucking and sucking for me. You know I don’t give a damn about your tits or your weight or any of that because I love my Baby Daddy just the way he is. And I promised to make it all better as soon as you get your gorgeous, studly ass home.”

“Fuck you, Sunshine,” Brian groused, although he was smiling when he said the words.

“And, don’t fucking starve yourself to death in the meantime, either,” Justin couldn’t help but lecture - his Kalteen Bar plan might have fallen through but he wasn’t giving up on his quest to keep Brian and Kevan safe and healthy. “Just because you found out about the Kalteen Bars, that doesn’t mean you can just quit eating. It’s not good for you or for Kevan while you’re still nursing.“

“Yeah, about that . . . how long do I have to keep doing this nursing shit?” Brian hesitantly asked, already knowing that his mere question would probably piss Justin off.

“Brian, we’ve already discussed this. You know that all the research shows a breastfed baby is healthier overall . . .” Brian tuned out the PSA before Justin had even finished his first sentence.

He’d already had the lecture - more than once - and really did NOT need to hear it again. Of course he didn’t want to do anything that might hurt his son, but breastfeeding? Was it really necessary? Really? Shit, he just wanted to get his body back. He wanted to be free to come and go without toting along the fucking pump. He wanted to be free to get sucked off whenever he wanted. He wanted to once again be able to fuck anyone he wanted, whenever he wanted, without having to worry about being humiliated by leaky tits or a bulging stomach. He missed being Brian ‘Fucking’ Kinney.

“Brian? Brian, are you even listening,” Justin’s voice finally penetrated his reverie.

“Yeah, I heard you. Breastfeeding is the bee’s knees. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever,” Brian mumbled.

“Just a few more months, okay,” Justin conceded. “For Kevan.”

“Fine,” Brian gave in again, even though he chafed at the ongoing weight of his domestication. “Now, can we please just talk about something other than babies and breastfeeding. I swear, if I hear one more word about babies or how I’m a fucking genetic freak of nature, my damn dick is going to permanently shrivel up and fall off. Can’t we just talk about normal shit like the hot guys at Woody’s last night or who’s fucking whom or something - anything - else!”

“Awwww, poor Brian,” Justin teased. “Okay, okay, I promise. No more babies or domestic shit. Only manly stuff like fucking and hot guys . . . Let’s see . . . Well, I did meet Emmett and Ted at Woody’s last night for a couple drinks - Mom offered to watch Kevan for a few hours so I could go out and celebrate finishing my last final for the semester - but I didn’t see any really notable hot guys. I didn’t really stay very long. I was really beat after studying all week for finals and Kevan hasn’t been sleeping really well since you’ve been gone. I think he misses his Daddy . . .”

“Justin. No more domestic shit, remember,” Brian stopped the loquacious teen before he devolved into more baby talk.

“Right! Sorry, Brian. Only hot guys. But, see, I didn’t really stay that long so I don’t remember anybody out of the ordinary . . . Oh, I did see that creepy Taggart guy, though. You remember the one who sort of saved us when we got mobbed at the hospital the last time? He was at the Diner when I came in with Daphne after class and then he turned up again at Woody’s later. He was kind of staring at me all night and it gave me the willies. That’s like the third or fourth time the guy has turned up when I’ve been out. Funny . . . I don’t remember ever seeing him before but the last few months he’s been everywhere . . .”

“Whatever, Justin. This isn’t really any more interesting than what you were saying before,” Brian interrupted. "So . . . Still got that bottle of lube handy? How about we try another position?"

And just like that Brian's mind was once more occupied with what he deemed a much more manly and appropriate topic.