Yes. “No.” There was only so much temptation a boy could take. “Can you tell me what happens?”
Freddy gave me a “duh” face. “They play research scientists who discover a cure for malaria. There’s a lot of talk about gene therapy and the ethics of stem-cell research. In the end, they triumph over the evil pharmaceutical companies and distribute the lifesaving vaccine via crop duster over the plains of Africa.”
He smacked me on the head. “What do you think happens? They have sex with each other, with a few other people, and then with each other again. Cut, print it.”
“No, I meant between them. Are they always that intense?”
“Pretty much. But it’s kind of one-sided. They wrote about it on some of the gay porn blogs.”
“There are gay porn blogs?”
“There’s a blog for everything,” Freddy asserted. “I read one the other day for people who like to cook with crickets. As ingredients, mind you, not assistants.
“Anyway, there was a lot of gossip in the industry that Lucas had a big crush on Brent, but his feelings were unrequited. Supposedly, Lucas was the one who got SwordFight to make More Than Friends in the hope that more scenes between them would get Brent to fall in love with him.”
“Life imitates art,” I said.
“Or not. The studio tried to put it out there that the two were really a couple, sending them to industry events and circuit parties together, but the blogs said it was just to build publicity for the movie. There was another rumor, though, that it was Lucas who arranged to be where he thought Brent would show up.
“Probably there was some truth to both versions. SwordFight might have been pushing them together to build excitement for the movie, but it isn’t hard to believe Lucas had a bad case of the unrequiteds for your friend Brent. It’s there on screen-Brent looks like he’s having a good time and all, but Lucas looks like he’s found a new religion.
“In any case, a few weeks after More Than Friends’ release, you never saw them together again. The movie was pretty successful and won some gold at that year’s Gay Video Awards. There was talk of a sequel, but it never happened. My guess? After a while, Brent got creeped out by Lucas’s affections.”
“Or maybe he just didn’t want to lead Lucas on,” I offered, realizing that I was once again trying to defend Brent by ascribing to him the best possible intentions. Over-identify much?
“Maybe. Whatever happened, that was pretty much the end of Lucas’s career in the industry. He appeared in one or two more films and that was it. In his last one I saw, he wasn’t looking too good, either.”
“No? What do you think it was? Drugs? Did he get sick?”
“Oh honey.” Freddy patted me on the hand and then squeezed it. “He had a terminal case.”
Given his line of work, it was tragically probable what had happened to him. “AIDS? I know the studios say they take precautions, but-”
“No, sweetie, not that. It was heartbreak that did him in. You could see it in his eyes. I believe that boy really did love Brent Havens. I think he’d have done anything to have him. He loved that boy to death.”
I got back to my apartment around nine. The lights were on and the radio was tuned to a classic rock station. A half-eaten carton of something Chinese was on the kitchen table next to a can of Bud.
Yes, Budweiser beer. Another reminder that no matter how many times Tony plowed me like the fields of Idaho, he’d always be a straight boy at heart.
Speaking of which, where was he? I called his name but got no answer. I turned down the radio and heard the shower running.
Hmmm… interesting. I was still kind of worked up from watching Brent’s movies, and the thought of a naked, wet Tony twenty feet away brought me back to full salute.
It’s amazing how fast you can get naked with the right motivation.
Twenty minutes later, we were drying off together in the bedroom. “That was a nice surprise,” Tony said, grinning.
“I figured we might as well get a little more dirty while getting clean,” I explained. “You know me. Mr. Efficiency. Screwing in the shower saves time.”
“Well, I’m glad you could squeeze me into your busy schedule,” Tony teased. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants sans underwear. It made me flash back to the scene with Brent and Lucas in the dorm room and I started to swell up again.
“As I recall, you were the one who did the squeezing in.”
“Apparently, you liked it.” Tony nodded toward the growing proof of my enjoyment. “Again?” he asked.
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”
Tony sank to his knees and grabbed my ass cheeks. He pulled me toward his face. “Let’s see about that.”
He took me in his mouth. It had taken a while before our sex was reciprocal in this way. For a time, as long as Tony was the one being done-as opposed to the one doing the doing, so to speak-it helped him maintain his identity as a heterosexual.
Feeling the heavenly warmth of his tongue and throat, I was glad he’d gotten over it.
“God,” I said, resting my hands on his shoulders.
For a guy who’d taken to it late in life, Tony gave a pretty good blow job. Maybe not the most technically proficient, but the contradiction with his natural butchness, the incredible interplay of his back and shoulder muscles working in perfect harmony as his head bobbed, and the fact that I loved him more than I should elevated it to an erotic wonder. Despite the fact that I’d deposited about a gallon of come down the shower drain fewer than fifteen minutes ago, I wasn’t going to last long.
“Tony, I’m about to…”
He pulled back and finished me off with his hand. While he was definitely making progress, swallowing was not on the menu for him.
“Whoa!” he said with boyish enthusiasm as my first shot rocketed past his head and on to the bed five feet away. Subsequent jets were of diminishing, but still impressive, velocity and volume. “Guess I really do bring out the best in you,” he said, arching his eyebrows. He looked behind him. “All over the place, apparently.”
The sight of Tony, who for so long fought against accepting his feelings toward me, on his knees in front of me, in such a submissive position and covered in my spunk, made me a little dizzy.
“Hey,” he said, noticing my unsteadiness. In a flash of naked flesh, he stood up and scooped me into his arms, holding me under my hips. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Tony could hold me like this for hours without tiring. My Big Strong Man. I hugged him, and the semen I contributed to his chest became a shared deposit.
“We’re going to need another shower,” he said, kissing me. “Not that I mind.”
“Or I could do it like a cat.” I wiped my tongue over his neck and disentangled from his embrace. I licked him clean from collarbone to navel, stopping only when something very welcome rose to knock against my chin.
I grabbed it possessively. “Looks like I’m not the only one available for another feature,” I observed.
Tony looked down at me in the position he’d been in moments earlier. “I don’t know,” he observed ruefully. “I’ve got a couple of years on you, Kevvy. I’m not so sure I’m up for another show.”
I waved him in my hand. “You look ‘up’ enough to me.”
I believe bad puns are only acceptable in sexual settings, where the mental energy needed to craft more sophisticated repartee takes away too much attention from the main event.
“Guess it depends on how good the show is,” he observed. “What’s the next movie?”
“Duh,” I said, again not bothering to be clever. “Deep Throat.”
Unlike my still-evolving lover, I had enthusiasm and technique. I could pull off that title and had no problem swallowing. A few minutes later, Tony was calling my name in a hoarse and climactic shout and neither of us was any messier than when I started.
Like I said, I’m efficient.
13
