The director yelled "Print it!" and everybody on the set cheered. This was the last scene on their shooting schedule for the week; they would've been done hours ago if Rick Slotsky, hadn't kept fucking up his lines. Generally they were all friends. The set was notorious for almost complete lack of friction. But now, at 2am at the end of a grueling 8-day week, after watching the same 10 seconds of screen time played out over and over and over, the crew were busy inventing new epithets for their buddy Rick.
"Ok guys," the director beamed, "I didn't think I'd ever get to say this, but it's a wrap! Go drink yourselves into oblivion, will ya?" As the crew started rolling up cables and the actors filed out into the night, he caught Slotsky’s sleeve. "Got a second?" Slotsky mastered his best hurt puppy expression and steeled himself for a new asshole.
Kyle wanted to catch at least some of the ripping. He felt tired and mean-spirited, and eavesdropping on the director murdering his costar seemed like a good way to vent the frustration at wasting the last four hours of his life watching him fuck up two short, simple lines. He paused in the doorway and weighed his options. He could stay and have a little bit of fun at Slotsky’s expense, or he could go get drunk with the crew. This was a tossup, and his tired brain seemed unable to deal with the difficult choice.
"C'mon Kyle," Reggie, the chief electrician yelled from the other end of the long hallway, "I'll buy you a drink. You earned it." Kyle glanced back at Slotsky wriggling in the director's death grip, smirked with satisfaction, and followed Reggie.
"Looks like he's really ripping into the Slutsky, eh?" Reggie said as the cold Toronto air hit them. "He might actually start learning his lines."
"One could only hope," Kyle raised an eyebrow. He threw his hand over the grip's shoulder. "Come on dude, I need a stiff drink." They stumbled over to the parking lot. Reggie's ridiculously yellow pickup took up two spaces. Right behind it stood Kyle's unassuming black hybrid. Terry was sitting cross-legged on the hood, shivering.
"You're gonna get a stiff something," Reggie elbowed Kyle in the ribs.
The pickup pulled out of the parking lot, its wheels screeching, and disappeared into the dense night. Kyle walked slowly towards Terry. "I thought you'd left hours ago, after you were done with your scene,” he said.
“I did. I came back.” Terry uncoiled his long legs and dangled them off the hood of Kyle’s car. Kyle took in the familiar form: the slender, beautifully shaped body, the thick shock of blond hair, the delicately featured face in which a child’s button nose fought with decidedly adult grey eyes for domination. On film Terry always came across as cute. In real life, however, he looked truly beautiful.
“Why would you want to come back to this godforsaken place at 2 in the morning?” Kyle came up to Terry and pressed his body lightly to his knees. Terry parted his legs and wound them around Kyle’s waist, pulling him closer. He looked up into Kyle’s face, and Kyle thought for a second that he saw a shadow of sadness there. But then a wicked smile overtook Terry’s face, and all traces of the shadow, real or imagined, were gone.
“Well, there’s a problem with…” Terry moved his face close to Kyle’s. “With some appliances.”
“Appliances?” Kyle put his hands on the hood and leaned into Terry.
“Yeah. Appliances.” Terry’s lips brushed against Kyle’s. They tasted each other’s breath. “I hear you’re pretty good with your hands,” he whispered.
Kyle sped through the sleeping suburb of Toronto towards Terry's apartment.
Terry's tongue was playing inside his ear, and Terry's hand was kneading his crotch. "We're going to drive into a tree," Kyle rasped, clutching the wheel.
"Do you want me to stop?" Terry cooed into his ear and gave the bulge in his jeans a particularly vicious tug.
"No, just making a general comment."
"Well, keep your mouth shut and your hands on the wheel, and we'll be fine,"
Terry said, unzipping Kyle's jeans and pulling out his already hard cock. Kyle gasped and squeezed the wheel tighter. Terry weighed Kyle's cock in his hand, glanced speculatively at the road. "Are we there yet?" he giggled and ducked his head.
As Terry's throat contracted around the head of Kyle's cock, the car swerved within inches of somebody's lovingly painted mailbox.
They stumbled through the door, weaving and laughing like two drunks. Kyle had been so close as they pulled up to Terry's neat little townhouse; but instead of bringing him off in the car, Terry had let his drooling cock plop out of his mouth and stuffed it unceremoniously back into his jeans. For a moment Kyle had wanted to complain, but Terry was in such a playful mood tonight – Kyle was sure he'd get off plenty of times.
"Want a drink?" Terry said, detaching himself from Kyle and heading towards the kitchen.
"Sure, whatever you're having" Kyle shrugged, trying to catch his breath from a major case of the giggles. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off the jacket. In the kitchen, Terry was having a loud argument with a blender. Well, at least he wasn't lying, Kyle thought – he really was having a problem with his appliances.
"Forget it," he said, walking up behind Terry, "I don't really need a drink." He pushed him back against the counter, pressing on his back with his chest, and pushed the unruly blender to the side. Something thick and unseemly sloshed inside it. He rubbed his face in Terry's buzz cut. He remembered how wonderful it had felt back during the hiatus when Terry was free to let his hair grow, and it would cascade in long, soft strands all over Kyle's face. The producers had some stupid hang-up about Terry looking as nubile as possible, so they always made him cut the hair off as soon as the shooting started up for the new season.
"Oh yeah?" Terry said, rubbing his ass across Kyle's swollen crotch, "What do you need?"
Kyle snaked his arms around Terry's slight figure and pressed their bodies together hard. The giggles were long forgotten, forced out by need. He grazed the back of Terry's neck with his teeth and bent forward, pushing Terry down onto the table. "You," he breathed, grinding his cock hard against Terry's ass.
"What about the no-fucking rule?" Terry snickered. He turned his head towards Kyle's face. "I'll tell!" he said and stuck his tongue out. Kyle sneered derisively and sucked Terry's tongue into his mouth. The no-fucking rule was the source of much ridicule on the set – created by the producers supposedly to prevent tension between costars after their affairs went sour, it was enthusiastically ignored by all, including the producers. So far, in the second year of production, they had managed to combine a great deal of fucking with a perfect absence of tension, thanks mostly to the closeness of their friendships and the casual nature of their encounters. As long as they didn't fall in love with each other, they were ok.
Kyle sucked on Terry's mouth and dry-humped his ass with short, hard thrusts. Suddenly his clothes seemed to weigh a ton. He let go of Terry's mouth and pulled back, tearing at the buttons of his shirt with uncooperative fingers.
Terry peeled himself off the table top and turned around, breathing hard.
"Wait, let me do it," he said, reaching for Kyle's clothes. He unbuttoned the shirt and dipped his head into the opening, licking Kyle's smooth chest. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of Kyle's neck. Kyle threw his head back, and Terry reached up with his teeth and started gently biting and kneading the length of it as he slid the shirt off Kyle's shoulders and let it tumble to the floor. Kyle gently pushed Terry back towards the table and repeated the ritual, unbuttoning his shirt, licking his chest and biting his neck as the shirt was discarded. As his hands went for Terry's fly, Terry unzipped his, and their cocks sprung up simultaneously, reaching for each other. They stepped out of their pants, completely naked.
Terry's arms and legs were covered with blond fuzz, almost invisible but fine to the touch. Kyle ran his fingertips along his forearms, enjoying the silky feeling. He pushed Terry up onto the table and reached down for his calves, playing with the longer hair there, tugging gently on the soft down. Hair was another sick hang-up of the producers'; they spared Terry's peach fuzz because the cameras didn't register it, but Kyle, with his auburn mane and darker complexion, was gently encouraged to shave the few dark hairs that grew around his nipples. He thought it was the most ridiculous thing in the world, but you didn't argue with the people who signed your paycheck.
Terry pulled Kyle in for another kiss. They sucked on each other's tongues for a while, biting each other's lips, grinding their bodies together. Without breaking contact, Terry reached down between them with both hands and squeezed their cocks together, jacking them both slowly with two fists. Kyle moaned into Terry's mouth. He laced his fingers through Terry's hair and pulled his head onto his shoulder, giving himself a wonderful view of Terry's exquisitely shaped long fingers encircling the two pulsing, veiny slabs of meat.
Terry was nibbling on Kyle's shoulder and letting out soft, barely audible moans. The jerks of his hands were getting more and more urgent. Kyle was getting dizzy; he felt the familiar pull of orgasm gather force somewhere deep down in his belly. "Stop…" he breathed out, "I'm going to come…"
Terry squeezed harder. "Why would I stop?" he purred in Kyle's ear. He lowered his head, and they both watched the last few jerks of his hand; and then suddenly Kyle was coming in great thick gushes, Terry coming too just a second later, their bodies shuddering against each other, their heads thrown back, strange choked sounds coming out of their throats. Their cum ran down Terry's fists, mixing together, and plopped on the floor in pearly globs.
They stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard, eyes glazed over; then Kyle crumbled against Terry's shoulder. "Fuck, that wasn't too bad," Terry giggled and lowered his back onto the table, relaxing and closing his eyes. Kyle crawled on top of him. The aftershock of the orgasm was still rolling through him, tickling the farthest reaches of his body with waves of warmth. He pressed his forehead to the tabletop beside Terry's head.
"Want to move this to the bedroom?" Terry whispered, putting his arms around Kyle and running his fingertips along his spine. Kyle raised his head an inch off the tabletop and glanced towards the kitchen door. He considered the trip for a moment, then dropped his head back down. "Too far," he rasped, "can't move."
Terry ran his hands over Kyle's body and nibbled on his earlobe. Kyle sighed contentedly but didn't move. "Don't fall asleep on me, old man, we're not done here," Terry said, giving Kyle a playful kick in the ribs.
Kyle burst out laughing and rolled off Terry. "Fuck you," he kicked Terry in his shins. He was only four years older than Terry, but Terry's button nose and thin frame made the age difference seem much more glaring. They tackled each other, beset by another case of the giggles. The table shook dangerously. They rolled around, and suddenly Kyle was falling off the table. He crashed to the floor, laughing and screaming at the same time, and pulled Terry on top of him. They lay on the warm linoleum, shaking with uncontrollable laughter, their faces red, tears streaming down their cheeks. Terry looked at Kyle, and his face abruptly became serious.
"What?" Kyle asked, the last explosions of laughter shaking his body.
Terry reached over and wiped the tears off Kyle's face. "Are we going to keep in touch after the show is over?" he asked.
"Of course," Kyle nodded. He waited for Terry to continue the conversation, thinking that he was so very young after all; but Terry just smiled. Kyle returned the smile and rolled over on top of Terry, pressing their smiles together and pushing his tongue between Terry's lips.
As Kyle lazily searched Terry's mouth with his tongue, he felt Terry's cock push at his thigh. He broke contact and looked at Terry with mock disbelief. "No fucking way," he said and glanced at Terry's once again fully erect rod.
"Can you not give me a minute to catch up here?"
"Sure, grandpa," Terry snickered and pinched Kyle's nipple, waking up his soft dick. Kyle attacked him again, tickling his armpits and laughing. Terry squealed, trying to fend him off with his hands and feet. He arched his back, and Kyle lunged down at his nipples, his armpits forgotten. He sucked Terry's left nipple into his mouth and rolled it around his tongue, pulling on it with his teeth, pinching the other nipple between his fingers.
"Ah fuck, Kyle," Terry breathed out, arching his back even more. His chest was smooth and as white as marble, shot through with delicate blue veins. Kyle let Terry's nipple slip from his mouth and started kissing and licking down his chest to his stomach, lingering around his belly button. He raised Terry's dick to his lips and licked at the pool of precum gathered there, tugging softly on Terry’s balls. Terry sighed and dug his fingers into Kyle's hair. Kyle was getting hard again. He kissed around the base of Terry's cock, digging his nose into Terry's soft, blond curls, inhaling the sweet, musky smell greedily. He sucked Terry's balls into his mouth and felt the grip on his hair tighten. He rolled them around his mouth, and then slowly let them go.
"Pull your legs up," he said and reached for his shirt. As Terry grabbed his knees with his hands and pulled them up to his chest, Kyle rolled his shirt into a ball and raised Terry's ass off the linoleum, sticking the shirt under it. Terry's pink asshole winked at him. He touched it with the tip of his finger, and it contracted, the wrinkled ring of muscle giving his fingertip a little peck.
Kyle got down on the floor and blew on Terry's bud. He watched the ring contract again, responding to his presence. He stuck his tongue out and held it just a hair's breadth away from Terry's hole, letting the heat of his breath and the air pressure on the skin tease Terry. He blew on it again. With an impatient sigh, Terry thrust his hips up, but Kyle pulled his face away. "Hey, behave yourself," he whispered, pulling Terry's ass down onto the shirt. He started caressing the insides of Terry's thighs with his lips and tongue, glancing back at his asshole that was now quivering madly as Terry's sighs and moans were becoming more demanding. Finally he decided Terry was desperate enough. He relaxed his long, thin body across the floor, conscious of his growing cock trapped between his belly and the floor, and lowered his mouth to Terry's hole.
He opened his mouth wide and sucked on the bud, drawing the ring towards himself, making it extend outward. Somewhere above him, Terry was whimpering. He teased the hole with his tongue, swirling it around the muscle, smoothing out the wrinkles. He pressed the tip of his tongue into the center of the ring, and as it opened to him he pulled away. The hole gaped at him for a moment; he lowered his mouth again and blew a gust of hot air right into Terry. Terry's squeal went up in pitch, and the hole snapped shut. He repeated the game, teasing the hole open with the tip of his tongue and letting it snap back. Then, when Terry was least expecting it, he thrust his tongue inside, tasting the soft walls of the canal beyond the hard muscle. Terry pushed his hips up again, impaling himself further on Kyle's tongue, and started jacking himself with one hand. Kyle considered slapping his hand away, but decided to let it go. He wiggled his tongue inside Terry and sucked on the ring muscle, his spit running freely down Terry's crack and staining his shirt. When he pulled his tongue out, the hole didn't snap shut. It gaped at him, trembling slightly, waiting to be filled.
Kyle glanced up at Terry. He was pulling on his cock slowly, his eyes shut tight. Kyle brushed his thumb against Terry's gaping hole and watched Terry throw his head back and moan. Gathering spit from Terry's crack, Kyle dipped his thumb inside and pressed his palm into Terry's balls. He massaged his sac with four fingers while fucking him with his thumb and running his tongue around his ass ring. Terry started jerking his hips in rhythm with his jacking, riding Kyle's thumb. Kyle took Terry's balls in his other hand and pulled out his thumb, substituting it with his index and middle fingers. Terry made an appreciative noise and kept riding his hand. Kyle was fully hard himself now, humping the floor with easy thrusts. He wanted this to last.
As he slipped the third finger in and hardened his thrusts, Terry let go of his dick, and reaching down, put his hand on Kyle's wrist. "Let's go a little slower this time, ok?" he whispered between heavy breaths.
"Ok," Kyle said. He began caressing the walls of Terry's canal instead of thrusting hard against them. With his other hand he pulled Terry's balls away from his body and sucked them back into his mouth, feeling Terry's hand brush against his cheek each time he jacked his cock. He wound his free hand around Terry's pelvis and took over, pulling on Terry's cock and brushing his thumb over the leaking pisshole.
Terry bucked. "Christ, what the fuck is your definition of going slower?" he screamed, squeezing Kyle's fingers harder around his cock with his own hand. Kyle froze, his mouth heavy with Terry's jerking balls and his fingers embedded deep inside his contracting asshole, as Terry's body convulsed around him and wads of cum rained on Terry's stomach and got caught in Kyle's hair.
"You ok?" he mumbled around Terry's sac.
Terry breathed heavily, then started laughing. "Don't talk with your mouth full," he giggled, whacking Kyle gently on the head.
Kyle started laughing too, sending vibrations up Terry's balls. He dropped them from his mouth and crawled up Terry's body, smearing Terry's cum across his chest and stomach. Terry's legs had plopped down onto the floor on both sides of Kyle's body, and now he rested on top of Terry, his hard cock pressed against Terry's balls. He watched as Terry's face returned to its normal color.
Terry reached up and tugged on Kyle's lips with his mouth. "You want to fuck me?" he asked between lazy, gentle kisses.
"You sure?" Kyle asked, glancing down at Terry's gratified cock.
"Hey, I'm still young, unlike certain people," Terry said, the wicked smile returning to his face, "I'll probably be hard again in two seconds."
"You little sonofabitch," Kyle pretended to scowl at him. "You're definitely going to get it now."
He reached for his jeans and pulled a condom from the back pocket. Terry snatched it from his hands, and he raised his body up as Terry tore the wrapper and slipped it around his cock. He rolled his cock across Terry's belly, smearing the condom with Terry's cum, then sat up and pulled Terry's legs up onto his shoulders. Amazingly, Terry's cock was half-hard again. Kyle rolled his eyes. "Kids today," he snorted and plunged into Terry's loosened hole.
He rode Terry hard, smacking his ass with his thighs, pulling out to the head and driving back in to the pubes, the thick, dark column of his cock pistoning in and out of Terry's pearly white ass. There was no more gentle caressing in his motion. He was filled with necessity, the second orgasm of the night promising to be even more dizzying than the first. He was pummeling Terry's prostate with the head of his dick, and Terry's own cock was hard again, drooling more precum on his already fluid-covered belly. Terry was pushing back at him with his hips, letting out short, urgent moans with each thrust.
“Oh yeah….OH YEAH….give it to me hard! OHH YESSSS!!!”
Kyle was barely aware of growling. Their bodies crashed together noisily.
Terry started pulling on his cock again. "Tell me when," Kyle panted between thrusts.
"I'm close," Terry whimpered.
They rode each other for a while longer, their moans and growls and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the big kitchen. Suddenly Terry's breathing changed. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed at the floor with his shoulders. "Christ, I'm cuming!" he bellowed, and as he unloaded across his belly for the third time, Kyle let go too, pumping hot cum into the condom, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably, blood ringing in his ears.
Little by little their breathing returned to normal. Terry ran his hands over Kyle's body absentmindedly. "I got a call from New York," he said suddenly. "There was a message on the machine when I came home tonight."
Kyle rolled off Terry and pushed himself up on an elbow. "From those theater guys?"
"Yeah," Terry said, staring at the ceiling. "The director of the company is getting this play ready, he said I'm his first choice."
"When is it going into rehearsal?"
"It will go through the hiatus. But…" Terry turned towards Kyle and peered into his eyes searchingly. "They want me in the troupe permanently. I really want to do it."
"What about the show?" Kyle was searching his own complex feelings on the matter.
"I only have one year left on my contract," Terry said. There was a pleading note in his voice. "I just can't renew it, Kyle… I can't keep playing the same stupid soap dialog."
Kyle wriggled closer to Terry and pressed him to his chest. The floor was growing uncomfortably hard and cold, but he barely noticed. His own contract was up next year, and he suddenly realized with shocking clarity that once Terry was off the show there was no reason for him to stay. "You have to do this," he whispered in Terry's ear.
"This is what you've wanted all along. Go to New York and make us all proud. Terry, I'm so happy for you…"
Terry pulled his face away and looked Kyle in the eyes again. "Will you come to New York?"
"Where else would I go?" Kyle cracked a smile. "Hey, maybe you'll put in a word for me with that director guy. I can't wait to get back to the theater." Terry sighed with considerable relief and laid his head back down, closing his eyes.
"We'll always be friends," Kyle said as he stroked Terry's cheek, "no matter where we are. Nothing is going to change that." He tried hard not to think about whom he was trying to convince – Terry or himself.
They lay enveloped in each other's arms, and Kyle listened as Terry's breathing relaxed and slowed down. He looked at his dozing friend and imagined him coming out for a curtain call, bathed in lights. He knew he'd be good. He smiled and pressed Terry's warm body closer to his chest. Change was coming into their lives, unstoppable, implacable. But he was strong, and so, he knew, was Terry. They had a chance. He knew that much.
Randy Pearl, aka Polina Skibinskaya, is a writer, editor and translator.