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Supposed To Be - Heart of Gold Part One
He knew that most of the time fledgling actors waited tables until they hit it big.
But Michael had a horrible sense of balance. He’d *tried* being a waiter. It wasn’t like he went from not getting a call back to sucking cock. He’d *tried*.
He was a complete failure. He’d dropped three trays full of food on the floor. He’d tipped one plate of pasta into a woman’s lap and he’d spilled two glasses of wine. One was on a man’s white dress shirt.
He wasn’t sure why he’d actually lasted as long as he had. It had only been three hours.
He’d tried retail, but the manager had been a complete bitch. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how to fold sweaters into a perfect square.
Michael sucked at both food-service and retail.
Ironically, the only thing he didn’t suck at was sucking.
He still dreamed of being an actor. He had been to what felt like half-a-billion auditions. But he was too skinny, too fat, too hairy, too tall, too short, or, the one that really confused him, too good.
Michael shook his head as he stepped on the stair master. He did aerobic exercise three times a week and cardio twice. He did yoga on the odd days and every once in a while, for variety, he’d take a spinning class. Those always freaked him out with the darkness and the lights, and he’d rather get his exercise running in a giant hamster wheel.
But it was Friday, so he did his aerobics class, and his yoga, and was cooling down in the sauna when his thoughts turned back to Tom…
…And the whole gay thing.
Michael liked to think of himself as open minded, well adjusted and honest with himself. But he’d always thought of himself as heterosexual. The rest of it was just a job. He just had sex with people instead of selling them clothing-for-the-masses. Blowjobs instead of pushing overly sweet cheesecake. It was the same, really.
It was completely different.
That line of thinking wasn’t accomplishing anything. He tried to glance over at one of the other men in the sauna, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He was half relieved when it did nothing for him, but now he was really confused. Because, if it was just Tom, then okay, he could be Tom-sexual.
Or bisexual.
He stood up and shook his head. Maybe a shower would clear his mind.
The water was as cool as he could stand it, but it didn’t help. He showered quickly and dressed even faster. He had errands to run. Being a prepared-man-of-the-evening required supplies, and there was a sale at Ricky’s.
~*~
He checked his voicemail while he was on the subway. His mom. His sister. Tom.
Wait. Tom? He had to listen to it again. Because he almost didn’t believe it.
I know you just left, and I know this is probably the craziest thing you’ve ever heard of. But I was wondering...if you weren’t busy this weekend, would you maybe spend it with me? Or just one night if you have stuff to do. I’d pay you, of course. Whatever the price…it doesn’t really matter. I just…I had a really good time, and I want to see you while I’m here. I don’t know when I’ll be back… and now I’m just rambling. Anyway, please let me know. I’m going out this afternoon, but if you leave me a message or whatever, I’ll call you back. Okay, Mike, talk to you later. Oh, wait! The number here at the hotel is 212-758-5700. And I’m in room 3915. But you knew that. Whatever. Call if you can. Bye.
Michael listened to the message twice before he stared at his phone and then at his watch. The message had been left an hour before. Tom was probably out, so he could get away with leaving a message.
He knew it was an extremely bad idea for him to call, let alone *contemplate* spending the weekend with Tom.
The phone rang to the operator and she put him through to the room. He got the phone message system and left the most cryptic message he could, in case it got into the wrong hands.
Tom – Mike here. It’s twenty-five hundred for the weekend, Friday and Saturday nights. Saturday during the day, Sunday until noon. Let me know. Thanks.
He closed his phone and stared at it some more. Absolutely crazy. He was out of his mind! Unfortunately, the communications device provided no answers.
He got off the subway after two more stops and headed to the street. He was going to need more supplies than he’d originally planned if Tom called him back.
He called his mom during his walk to the shop. Lying to her was the second most horrible thing in the world. Only lying to his grandmother was worse.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Michael! Honey! You never call. Every time the phone rings, I’m sure it’s someone calling to have me identify the body.”
Michael rolled his eyes. His mother was overly dramatic. It had only been a week. “I’m fine, Mom.
“It’d be nice to hear from you. Is that play still keeping you busy?”
He didn’t sigh into the phone. But it took all of his willpower not to.
“Yeah. The play is great. How is everyone there? Did you guys get the last check I sent?”
“You should keep your money! But, yes, we did. And we really appreciate it, Mikey.”
“I want to help when I can, Mom. I know you’re out of work.”
He heard her sigh all the way from Indiana. “Honey, you work hard for that! I know they can’t be paying you much for the play. And the restaurant you told us about can’t be paying you much either…”
“I’m doing fine, Mom. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay. Are you seeing any nice girls? When do I get to be a grandma?”
“I see plenty of girls. If you mean do I have a girlfriend, then no, I don’t. But there is this guy…”
She laughed. “Oh, Michael. You’re such a tease.”
He laughed with her. Even when he tried to tell the truth, she didn’t believe him. “I have to go, Mom. I’m supposed to be at rehearsal in a few minutes.”
“Break a leg! Anyway, honey, have fun. Don’t forget to call me from now on!”
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mikey. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
He hung up and slid the phone into his pocket. He hated lying. He hated lying more than anything, but there was no way he could tell his mother what he actually did. And there was *no* way he was going to tell her that he was a failure as an actor. He had too much pride for that. What was he supposed to do? Go crawling home and be more of a burden to them?
No way. They already had enough problems. They took care of him when he was a kid and when he was in college, and now it was his turn to pay that back. And whatever he had to do to help, he’d do. Even if it meant sucking cock.
He’d been standing on the corner, not really paying attention to the light while he thought of his mother, and absently pulled his cell phone from his pocket, just to check the time. It was blinking with a message.
Tom was quick.
Mike, it’s Tom. I’m so glad you called back. The price you quoted is totally fine. I will be here for the rest of the afternoon. You can come over whenever. Talk to you soon.
Michael charged accordingly for his time and he wasn't cheap. From the sound of Tom's voice on the phone, he hadn't batted an eyelash at the fee. That suite at the Four Seasons was really nice, too. Grinning, Michael concluded that Tom must be an incredible model.
He shook his head and focused on the crossing light. When it changed from the red octagon to a white hand, he crossed. The shop he was headed for had bright signs advertising their half-off sale. Michael smiled.
~*~
He made it back to his house in under an hour. He left a note for his roommate that he’d be gone for the rest of the weekend, and packed his messenger bag with an extra pair of jeans, some boxers and three shirts. Plus, he added some of his newly purchased lube and a box of condoms.
He looked in the bag one last time before tossing in his toothbrush, another box of condoms and, for good measure, another bottle of lube. One could never be too prepared. Wasn’t that the Boy Scouts? He bet Tom was once a Boy Scout.
Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he grabbed his keys and cell phone, and headed out. If he planned this right, he might not have to work a lot after this weekend. At least for the rest of the month. Thirty-five hundred dollars in three days? Better than he could do in two months as a waiter.
He could buy his mom a new washer and dryer. And still pay his bills for the month.
And all he had to do was spend time with Tom. Adorable Tom. Shit, he was so screwed.
~*~
Michael knocked tentatively at the door. No one had stopped him in the lobby to ask him what he was doing, or demanded that he leave. Real life was nothing like Pretty Woman.
Tom opened the door and grinned. “Mike,” he practically yelled.
Michael smiled back. He still wasn’t used to the name thing. “Tom. I was surprised to hear from you so soon.”
Tom blushed.
Michael blinked and tried not to think about how cute that was.
He was still standing in the hall. Michael looked up and down the hall and leaned in, whispering, “This might work better if you let me in. Unless you want to drop right here and do it in the hall.”
Somehow, it was possible for Tom to blush more. He moved quickly and shut the door behind Michael. “Sorry.”
“That’s alright. I was just messing with you, anyway.”
Michael set his bag down next to the couch and looked around. The maid had been there since he’d left. He could see that the bed was made and the room service tray had been picked up.
“So,” Michael said. “What did you have in mind?
“Nothing. I mean…nothing special. I just wanted…” He gestured with his hands.
Michael raised his eyebrows. He didn’t think the gesture was supposed to be dirty. But it was.
“No! I mean… Yes. But that’s not what I meant…”
Michael had to laugh. Flustered and embarrassed was a good look on Tom.
“Can you dance?”
Tom looked confused. “Uh, a little. Why?”
“I was just thinking that we could go out to a club. Maybe tomorrow.”
Tom nodded. “I haven’t gotten to do much while I’ve been here. Just the photo shoots.”
“That’s a crime. Have you at least been to Central Park?”
Shaking his head, Tom answered, “No, I haven’t. Not in years. I’ve been so busy.”
“Alright,” Michael decided. “We’re going there tomorrow afternoon. And a club tomorrow night. Do you have clothes?”
“No. I don’t believe in clothes.”
“Right,” Michael laughed. “Silly question.”
Tom laughed with him. “I have something I could wear.”
Michael moved to sit on the couch, beckoning Tom over. He sat down, really close to Michael, and put his hand on Michael’s thigh.
“We can just stay in tonight. There’s pay-per-view and room service. And…”
Michael grinned. In that moment, he decided to just go with it, and try not to analyze it too much. He liked Tom. It was okay to like Tom. It was probably impossible to *not* like Tom. “And?”
“Check out my etchings?”
Michael snorted. “Right. Etchings.”
Tom leaned over and pressed his lips to Michael’s. That was new. Before, Tom had waited for Michael to make all the first moves.
Michael ignored the way Tom cupped his face in an entirely too intimate gesture. Instead, he opened his mouth and allowed Tom inside.
God, Tom could kiss. It was officially one of Michael’s favorite things about Tom. And for all his ‘first time, I’m not gay’ spiel, he took to kissing boys pretty damn well.
Tom’s hands slid down to his shoulders and Michael let Tom pull him closer. Before he realized it, Michael was sprawled on top of Tom in an awkward tumble of limbs across the couch and they were making out in earnest.
Michael hadn’t made out with anyone in a long time. His clients were all straight sex. Well, not so much with the straight exactly…
The hand on his ass grinding him into Tom yanked him away from his thoughts. And he couldn’t help moaning into Tom’s mouth when their cocks brushed against each other.
He wasn’t supposed to like this as much as he did. He wasn’t supposed to like guys. He wasn’t supposed to like *Tom*.
But, God help him, he did.
Tom felt so good underneath him. All those muscles and all that gorgeous skin. He met Tom’s next thrust with one of his own and realized that they were just rutting together, and if they didn’t do something soon, they were going to make a mess.
Michael dragged his mouth from Tom’s and gasped, “Clothes off.”
Tom nodded and his hands immediately went to the hem of Michael’s t-shirt, yanking it over his head.
Diving in for another kiss, Michael struggled to get Tom’s shirt off, too. Except, that wasn’t really what was crucial to the impending mess.
Regretfully, he pulled back again and sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his jeans and started to wiggle out of them. Tom just watched, grinning until he was finally naked. He didn’t help at all when Michael attacked the buttons of his jeans.
Tom wasn’t making anything easier. He kept running his fingers over Michael’s belly, infinitely close to his leaking cock. It was driving Michael crazy.
The buttons gave and Michael tried to pull Tom’s pants off. Tom finally helped by lifting his hips, and soon they were down far enough that Tom just kicked them away.
Michael groaned when Tom pulled him back down and kissed him again. And he couldn’t help running his hands over Tom’s chest and stomach, even though the angle made cocks brush together even more.
“Mike,” Tom panted. “Touch me.”
So he did. Michael wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and started stroking.
Tom was beautiful to watch. His face scrunched up and his mouth hung open. He panted and his lips formed Michael’s name, but the only sounds that escaped were little moans and whines. He thrust into Michael’s hand and the friction for Michael was almost too much.
Michael couldn’t believe how close he already was. This was entirely too easy with Tom. Too easy to just let himself go.
Michael moved his hand faster, rubbing across both heads as he did.
“God, Mike.” Tom finally put sound to words. “So good.”
Michael couldn’t say anything. He could barely think past his need to get off. He nodded, even though Tom’s eyes were closed.
“I’m going to…Mike,” Tom whispered. But it didn’t matter.
Only a couple more strokes and Tom came. Thank God that Michael had gotten all their clothes off. Come was all over the place. Slick and slippery and Michael was shocked when Tom batted his hand away and took over.
Tom’s big hand squeezed gently and stroked Michael’s cock quickly, hard, just like the rhythm Michael used on himself.
“Fuck,” he grunted as he finally came. Most times, he didn’t care about getting off. He rarely did when he was with a client. And very, very rarely did a client care enough about him coming to make it happen.
Michael flopped back down on Tom’s chest, breathing heavily. Sticky.
When he finally caught his breath, Michael lifted his head and smiled down at Tom.
“Looks like we need another shower.”
Tom nodded eagerly. “You can wash my back again.”
Michael didn’t move for a few seconds. He looked up again before he finally started to extract himself from Tom.
“Hey, Mike?” Tom started as Michael’s back was to him.
“Yeah?” Michael was on his way to the bathroom, so he stopped and turned around.
“I was thinking. And there’s something I want you to teach me.”
Michael nodded. “Okay. Sure, if I can.”
“I want you to teach me how to give a blowjob.”
Opening his mouth to answer, and then snapping it shut, Michael couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Will you? I mean…I don’t know how and I really want to.” He was blushing again in that completely adorable way and it was all Michael could do to not reach out and touch him.
“I can do that,” Michael finally said.
Tom grinned. “Cool.”
Michael sighed as he made his way to the bathroom. They were going to have to go out and get a toy or some bananas or something. He tried to remember what shops were close by.
“Hey, Mike? When was the last time you got a blowjob?”
Michael stopped and turned around again to find Tom still grinning. “What?” He asked, dumbfounded.
“I want to practice on you. Is that okay?”
Michael nodded before he could think to say no.
Tom stepped closer. He leaned down for a kiss and slipped past Michael. “Good. Now come on. We’re all sticky and I want to shower.”
Michael followed Tom. He couldn’t remember the last blowjob he’d actually received. His last girlfriend had been months and months ago, and it wasn’t like many clients wanted to do that. Sure, he gave three a night, but received? It had probably been a year.
~*~
Nervous. He was nervous. Why in God’s name was he nervous? It was just a blowjob. It was just a little practice. And it was just work.
But Tom was grinning at him and handing him a soapy washcloth. Then he turned around and Michael didn’t move for a second. Tom craned his head around and said in that husky voice of his, “Mike?”
“Oh.” He looked up. “Sorry.” He tried to smile. The picture in his head of Tom’s mouth around his cock had him half hard. Michael shook his head, trying to get rid of the image and started rubbing the cloth across Tom’s back.
This was torture. Complete and total torture. He wondered if accountants felt this way over an extremely satisfying column of numbers. He could have been an accountant. If he hadn’t majored in communications. Stupid communications degree. He was qualified to do just about nothing.
He couldn’t even communicate; not really, because he was too turned on to say anything. This was really not going to do at all. He was the professional here, and he was salivating all over himself for the promise of a blowjob from someone who had never done it before. It would probably be horrible and awkward…but those lips were practically made for it.
Tom turned around and took the washcloth from his hand. Michael watched him rinse it before leaning over and starting in on his chest. Michael closed his eyes and felt the rough cloth scrub at him, and tried not to think about his hard cock and the images of Tom sucking him.
“Mike? Are you okay?”
Michael nodded. He was. He just had to focus.
On something other than Tom blowing him.
~*~
Michael was still hard when they climbed out of the shower. Tom handed him another robe, and he slipped it on, turning to adjust himself and try to keep his cock inside the terrycloth. Tom was grinning at him and, damn it, Michael was not going to blush.
It had been an extremely confusing twenty-four hours. He had discovered that he was at least bisexual and had half-fallen for one of his clients. It was crazy and insane and he had to get the hell over it. He could like Tom, but this was just fucking ridiculous.
“Are you hungry?”
Tom’s voice had startled him out of his reverie and Michael considered a moment before nodding. “Sure. Are we going to do room service? Or we could go get something… There’s a great little restaurant around the corner. But I don’t think they deliver.” Maybe it was the room that was making him insane.
Tom bit his lip and tilted his head. “Can we stay in? I mean…we can get a pizza or something if there’s nothing on the room-service menu that you want.”
“Anything you want, Tom.”
A sour look clouded Tom’s face, before he pulled the book from the table and started to go through it.
Michael immediately felt bad. And then got pissed at himself for feeling bad. It was all up to Tom. Tom was paying him to be there. Paying him to do what ever it was that Tom wanted.
“Do they have burgers? I could go for a one.”
Tom nodded. “I think that’s what I’m going to get, too.”
Michael didn’t say anything as Tom picked up the phone to order.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Beer is cool. Or Coke, or Pepsi… It doesn’t really matter.”
Tom nodded and spoke into the phone. Michael picked up the remote and started flipping channels.
Michael hated reminding Tom why he was there. He knew Tom hated it, too. But it was necessary to his own sanity. He had to keep telling himself that it was a job. A job and not fun. Because being with Tom was too much fun. Well, not at the moment exactly.
He sighed. Tom’s back was still to him, his posture stiff, and Michael could tell that he was pissed off. At least, the awkwardness had calmed Michael’s erection. He stopped on the movie guide and started reading.
Michael told the few girls that he’d gone out with, his family, and anyone else that asked, that he worked in a restaurant. He was always vague about the location, and never, ever gave a name. But Michael hated lying. Especially because the lies he told so often had absolutely no basis in reality.
There was no restaurant. There was no obscure location, there was only sex. And blowjobs, and cock. And Michael was supposed to hate it.
And he did, except for Tom. Which was completely fucking with his head.
Tom sat next to him and tapped him on the thigh. “It should be here in like twenty minutes. Okay?”
Michael just nodded. His own thoughts were still running rampant through his brain.
“Listen, Mike. I’m sorry. You’ve seemed kind of distracted… and is everything okay? I thought things started out okay.”
Trying to smile warmly, Michael turned to look at Tom. “It’s great. I’m sorry. I have been a little distracted, but it’s nothing. I promise.”
Tom seemed to be thinking it over. He squeezed his hand, still on Michael’s thigh. “Okay. If you’re sure. I mean… there isn’t something else you have to do? Or… I don’t know.”
Michael laughed. “I don’t have a second job. Or go to school or anything. This is it.”
Nodding, Tom smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “This is probably going to sound really weird, but…Why do you do this?”
Michael was taken aback. No one had ever asked him that before. No one that cared about him knew what he did.
“I don’t know. I tried the other things that actors do. I spilled spaghetti on a woman’s leather skirt and got fired. I couldn’t deal with the bitchiness at The Gap and…nothing else I could do pays this well.”
Tom shook his head. “But, you’re not some vacant twink.”
Michael looked at him strangely.
Blushing, Tom looked down at his hands. “I guess I wasn’t completely honest there. This isn’t the first time I’ve done things like this.”
A strange sense of betrayal shot through Michael. That was…odd. It wasn’t like Tom owed him anything, let alone truth or trust. “No, no. You don’t have to tell me things. If you want the first time fantasy, then that’s what it is.”
Tom didn’t say anything for a second. “I know. But I felt bad telling you that. You were just so beautiful. I was going to ask you to go to dinner with me, but the other guys in the club told me what you did before I could work up the courage.”
“You were what?”
“I just wanted to get to know you. And take you to dinner, but… This one guy, Scott, he models with me. He said that you were trade. And Steve, who is a complete asshole, said that you were a prostitute, and that you’d blown him last time he was here in New York.”
Michael pursed his lips and looked away. “Trade?” He was whispering. Fuck. He *hated* that word. It was worse than whore.
Although whore wasn’t much better. Michael looked up at Tom and cleared his throat. The knock on the door broke the mood and Tom jumped up quickly.
“I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom,” Michael said.
Tom called as Michael made his way down the hall, “Don’t take too long. Your burger will get cold.”
He was not prepared to deal with what Tom had told him. This was entirely too complicated.
Michael splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. This was bad. So bad. So very, very bad. He didn’t know what to do. Should he leave? That was probably the best option.
But…he wanted to buy his mom something nice. She deserved it. And if he was really honest with himself, he didn’t want to leave Tom.
If he left, Tom wouldn’t pay him, and he’d just have to go suck someone else’s cock. And the guy would be skeezy and it would be horrible and he was much better off staying. Tom was a nice guy. Michael stared at himself in the mirror. This was so completely fucked.
He dried his face off and made his way back to Tom. Beautiful Tom who had done this before. And Michael had totally bought that. What if every thing Tom did was a complete act? And all the attention and niceties and show of caring, was that just a huge fucking act? Was Tom was laughing at him? *Laughing*? He let out a derisive snort as he turned away from the mirror. It hurt too much to think about this.
God, he’d never felt like such a whore. His face burned with embarrassment, and he was two seconds from leaving. Fuck this, fuck the weekend and fuck Tom. His boxers were still on the floor next to the couch, and he picked them up and slid them on. Even if he wasn’t going to leave, he needed something between them besides the robe.
“I’m sorry.”
Michael shook his head and pasted on his fake smile. It was perfect for these kinds of occasions. “For what? Everything is completely fine.”
The look on Tom’s face only made Michael feel worse. He sat down and picked up the bottle of ketchup. He was going to stay. And he wasn’t going to yell. He could freak out when he left. Until then, he had a job to do, and damn it, he was a professional.
“I feel like I’ve really fucked this up.”
“Fucked what up? You’re paying me to stay here for the weekend. And impart my services. There is nothing else.” He just couldn’t stop.
Tom sat down across from him and picked up his own burger. He didn’t apologize again. Or say anything really. He just ate his burger.
After a few minutes, the silence really started to get to Michael. He had to have noise. Music or the television or something. He started tapping his foot. It didn’t help. He had to fix this. If it was this awkward for the rest of the weekend, Michael was going to go insane.
But if that didn’t make him crazy, the voice in the back of his head was whispering, ‘what if it’s *not* an act?’ certainly would.
“So, how’s modeling? I always thought that I was too skinny for that.”
Tom looked up, surprised. He didn’t answer. Fuck. Tom was really pissed off.
“Have you always been a model? Did you go to college?”
Sighing, Tom looked up. “Why do you want to know? I thought you were just here because I’m paying you.”
“Look. I’m sorry. I am completely out of my element here. I’m not supposed to like you. I don’t know what to do.”
A small smile started at the corners of Tom’s mouth. “You like me?”
Michael put his burger down and stood up. “God. I’m not supposed to be gay. This is supposed to be a *job*. A *job*! I should be treating you with contempt, and sneering at you. But you make it so hard. I *can’t* like you. You understand that, right?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a prostitute. And men pay me to have sex with them. A lot of sex.”
“But you just implied that by liking me, you don't like what you do otherwise. It’s just like a secretary that hates answering the phone. Or a doctor that hates the sight of blood.”
Michael laughed. “Right. I’m just like a doctor.” He wasn’t crying, damn it!
“Mike, listen.”
His back was to Tom and he felt Tom touch his shoulder hesitantly. “Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“I like you, Mike. I do. You’re funny and sexy and beautiful and I want you to stay. I ordered this cheesy horror movie from pay-per-view about urban legends. It has that kid from the duck movies.”
He wasn’t sniffling. He was allergic to something in the room. “I like hockey, but those were the cheesiest movies ever.” Tom patted his arm again.
“Come on.” Michael let Tom pull him to the couch.
“I tried out for this movie, you know.”
“You did?” Tom sounded way too surprised.
“Yeah. They said I was too good for it. I still haven’t figured out what that meant.”
Tom laughed. And hit the button on the remote. They weren’t touching. They were barely on the same couch. The credits started and Tom got up to get their plates and Michael stared at the television.
“Matthew Lillard,” he snorted again. “I could have totally played this part.”
Tom set Michael’s plate in front of him with his bottle of beer and sat down a little closer with his own. Michael pretended not to notice. He had no idea where the night was going to lead. He was pretty sure he should have left before he started eating.
“Have you tried out for a lot of things?”
“Yeah, I go on auditions all the time. I just never get anything substantial. I was up for this series a while back with that guy Tom Arnold. It was down to me and one other guy, but I…one of the guys who was already contracted was an old client. And I’m guessing that’s why I didn’t get it.”
“That sucks.”
Michael smiled. “It does. Especially because the guy was so horrible.”
“A horrible actor?”
“No,” he answered pointedly. “He had no idea what the term ‘finesse’ meant. Plus, he pulled on my ears. And I hate that.”
Tom was trying not to laugh. Michael could tell. “What?”
“N-nothing,” Tom managed around his choked giggles.
Michael smiled and some of the tension in the room eased. “I also hate it when they try to get out of wearing condoms. That’s just stupid. I mean, on both parts. I am a rent boy. I could have been with millions of people, and they want to trust me?”
“That is pretty dumb. Do you use condoms for everything?”
“Pretty much. I mean, I don’t have a lot of rules. The main one is ‘come on, not in’. The second one is ‘I’m not your pull toy.’ But most people don’t observe that one.”
Tom was out-and-out laughing at this point. “Pull toy?”
“Yeah. There’s also, ‘pay up front’, and ‘threesomes are triple.’”
“Those are all pretty easy to remember.”
Michael nodded.
“What about if you were getting the blowjob? Do you still wear a condom for that?”
Michael turned to look at Tom. “You’re still offering that?”
Tom stared back. “Yeah. I really haven’t done that. I mean…I’ve only done this like, twice before. And by this, I just mean had sex with a man. I’ve never…”
“Paid someone?”
Nodding, with that same sad look on his face that just tore Michael up inside.
“Yeah, I would wear one. And I don’t have any flavored ones… but those are just terrible anyway.”
Tom nodded. He pushed the table away with his foot and slid down to his knees and crawled over to Michael.
Michael could only stare.
“You mean *now*?”
Tom nodded and slid his fingers inside Michael’s robe. He tilted his head back and offered his mouth and throat to Michael, and there was no way he could have turned that down, even if he’d wanted to.
Kissing Tom was the sweetest thing ever, even if he did taste faintly of beer and mustard. Tom’s hands slid inside Michael’s robe, across his stomach, up his chest to rest on his shoulders and Michael moaned into Tom’s mouth and pulled him close.
He’d changed his mind so many times about this that he had no idea what to think. It felt so good. And it felt so right, that Michael forgot that he wasn’t supposed to like the way Tom felt.
And God, did he feel good. Strong arms that slipped down to his waist, smooth, muscled chest that felt so good against his own. And Tom didn’t pull or push or try to do anything too fast. He kissed Michael’s jaw and neck on his way down to a nipple. He met Michael’s eyes before biting down gently.
Michael moaned and closed his eyes. He was already hard and Tom rubbing against him only made him harder.
This was just crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on by *anyone*, let alone a man.
There was a tongue on his stomach, tracing words that Michael could almost make out, words that Michael longed to hear from someone, anyone. But he had to be imagining that.
Tom looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Are you sure this is okay?”
Michael nodded. “But you have to get a condom. There’s some in my bag.” He watched Tom get a condom and smile triumphantly.
It was adorable.
Tom moved back between Michael’s legs. Smiling, he reached for Michael’s boxers and tugged at the waistband. Michael lifted his hips, and Tom pulled the offending piece of cloth down. And when Tom’s hand wrapped around Michael’s cock, he couldn’t help but groan and pushing into it.
Big hands. Michael was used to hands on him. Whether it was his own or someone else’s, it was usually how he got off. Most of the time, men wanted to fuck him, or for him to blow them. Most of the time, men were only interested in their own pleasure. Michael’s satisfaction wasn’t even an afterthought.
Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and forced himself to focus. Tom was still watching him as he stroked lightly and it was close to driving Michael crazy.
“Okay. Listen, Tom. Before you get too far with that…you should put the condom on.”
Tom nodded and Michael watched him tear open the package and start to roll it on. Necessary evil. God, Michael hated them.
“Good. Now, think about what you like, Tom. Use your tongue, and be careful of your teeth. The taste of latex isn’t very good, but eventually, you get used to it.”
Tom nodded and bent his head. One hand was still wrapped around the base of Michael’s cock, the other petting his thigh, Tom slid closer and took the head into his mouth.
“Yeah, Tom, like that.” Tom’s eyes stared up at him and Michael tried to say something else, but it turned into a groan and he couldn’t remember why it was important because Tom had moved from getting used to a cock in his mouth to tentative sucking.
That just seemed to encourage Tom further. He took more into his mouth, sliding down the shaft, and he started to use his tongue.
God, Michael wanted to thrust.
As he watched Tom work, he felt like he was losing all control of the situation. Hot, plush mouth that Michael just wanted to shove inside of over and over. It was all he could do to restrain himself.
“Tom, you’re a natural. God. Pay more attention to the – Jesus – head.”
And then, it all stopped. Michael’s eyes flew open and Tom was still smiling.
“But I want you all the way inside. In my throat. How do I do that?”
Michael ran his hand over Tom’s head, through his hair and leaned down for a fierce kiss before leaning back onto the couch. The taste of latex on Tom’s tongue was, for some reason Michael couldn’t fathom, hot. He was going *insane*.
“How much of a gag reflex do you have?” His voice was shaky, barely recognizable.
Tom shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I want to do this.”
Michael took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Take my cock as far into your mouth as you can.”
Michael watched him move and then look up expectantly. God, those eyes.
“Uh…Take a deep breath in through your nose and when you let it out, swallow. And – Fuck!”
The muscles of Tom’s throat contracted around the head of his cock as Tom eagerly did as Michael instructed.
Michael couldn’t help thrusting inside.
Tom pulled back, breath heaving, lips shiny. “Like that?”
“God. Yes. Just like that. You just need more practice.”
Nodding and smiling, Tom bent again to the task at hand. Or, rather, mouth.
Slowly, carefully, Tom repeated Michael’s instructions. Michael watched, his eyes drooping down, too heavy to keep open. It was too good. Too hot, to watch those lips stretch around his cock. Tom’s tongue poked out as he licked and sucked.
Michael couldn’t help thrusting; a steady rhythm that Tom encouraged with hands on his ass. And Tom kept making little whimpers and noises that were just killing Michael. It was just so *good*. It was like Tom’s mouth was made for this.
“Fuck, Tom…that is so good. You’re a fucking natural. Do you like that? My cock sliding in and out of your mouth? Suck me, Tom. Suck it.”
Moaning, Tom seemed to double his efforts. The vibrations around his cock sent waves of pleasure through Michael. He watched Tom move faster, could feel his tongue rubbing harder, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.
He clenched his fists and bit down on his lip as he thrust up one last time. So good, so fucking amazing. Tom pulled back, panting and smiling. Michael slumped back onto the couch and tried to catch his own breath.
Cracking open an eye, Michael had to ask, “Are you sure that was your first blow job?”
Tom only nodded as he crawled up next to him on the couch. “First time on that end.”
Michael looked at him skeptically, “Like it?”
“Oh, yeah. Can I do it again?”
Laughing, Michael shook his head. “Not right now. I have other things to attend to.”
Tom’s face fell. “Oh. I thought you didn’t have to leave.”
“I don’t. I was referring to this.” Michael reached over and caressed Tom’s cock through the robe. “Is that okay?”
Tom’s noise of surprise turned into a moan. “Yes. God, yes.”
“Thought so. Want me to get down on my knees and suck you off? Or do you want me to bend over the back of this couch so you can fuck me?”
He didn’t answer for a couple of seconds, and Michael was going to offer more suggestions when he finally spoke up. “I want to fuck you.”
Michael’s breath hitched in his throat. This boy was too good for words. After stripping the condom off his cock and kicking off his boxers, he nodded, stood and reached for his bag. He pulled out a condom and one of the bottles of lube before crossing back and tucking both items into Tom’s hand. “Here. Just one condition, though.” Tom looked at him questioningly. “Hard.”
“God, yes.”
“Good.”
Michael pulled the belt on his robe and shrugged it off. He felt Tom’s eyes on him as he moved to lean over the couch. He spread his legs and waited. He hoped Tom wouldn’t stretch him too much. He wanted to feel it.
Anticipation coursed through him. Normally, in this position, he just felt vulnerable and a vague sense of dread. Anticipation was new. Lust and want was new. Even though he’d already come three times, he could feel his cock twitch. He couldn’t wait for Tom to fuck him.
“My fingers are shaking. I’m sorry,” Tom whispered as he brushed lightly across Michael’s ass.
“It’s okay…just hurry.”
Michael couldn’t tell what Tom was doing. He heard small sounds, but before it could register what was happening, there were cool, slick fingers pushing against his hole.
But he could feel the heat from Tom’s body radiating off of him as he crowded close. Rocking back, he needed more.
God, he wasn’t going to beg. He willed Tom to read his mind.
He could tell that there were two fingers inside of him, pushing infinitely close to his prostate. They curved just a little and Michael couldn’t bite down on his lip fast enough. “Tom,” he whispered, and moaned loudly as the fingers inside of him jerked.
“God, Mike. I have to…can I? Please?”
“Now. Yes, Tom.”
Michael gripped the couch with both hands as he felt Tom’s cock slip against his ass.
“Sorry, sorry,” Tom whispered and he gripped Michael’s hips a little harder before finally managing to push himself inside with a low groan. Tom didn’t move right away, and Michael really, really needed him to.
He tried to show Tom just how much with his body. Michael arched and pushed back, impaling himself all the way onto Tom’s cock. It earned him another groan. He wasn’t going to beg.
Finally, slowly, Tom started to move. Gentle, easy rocking of his hips, in and out of Michael -- torturous, agonizing thrusts that he could feel every inch of. Tom was going to make him crazy.
“Please, Tom,” Michael heard himself begging. Which just cemented the whole crazy idea, because he didn’t beg. He didn’t want men; he especially didn’t want them to fuck him.
But, he wanted Tom.
He wanted Tom to just pound into him. Michael wanted to feel it, wanted to remember this for a long time.
The next thrust was harder. It made Michael whimper. Exactly what he wanted, what he needed. “Yes,” he moaned softly.
That must have been just the encouragement Tom needed. Harder and faster, Tom built up a rhythm that had Michael moaning with each movement.
He couldn’t remember ever enjoying getting fucked. He’d bottomed too many times to count, but never had he wanted it like this.
Pleasure shot through him and Michael whimpered with the realization that he might come again. It was too much, too soon.
Tom leaned over him, his low, husky voice surrounding him as his cock moved inside. “Mike. This feels so good. You’re so tight, so good. God.” He twisted his hips on a particularly vicious thrust inside, forcing another moan from Michael.
“Yes, Tom. Fuck me. So perfect…” Michael could hear the noises he was making but he was helpless to stop. Besides, Tom felt entirely too good inside.
Tom’s hand slid around his hip on a trail of sweat and went straight for his cock. He groaned at the feeling, pleasure tipped with pain, as he was stroked with a hard grip.
Michael grunted, “Tom.” Thighs slapped against his own, one of Tom’s hands working his cock while the other gripped at his hip. He wondered if he’d have bruises.
Tom shuddered behind him, his thrusts changing rhythm again, this time, into no discernible pattern. Quick, erratic thrusts as Tom moaned and called out Michael’s name.
The hand on his cock squeezed and stilled and Michael cried out as his orgasm ripped through him. Nothing came out, there was no come left, but it wasn’t for his body’s lack of trying. He’d never had a dry orgasm. He didn’t even know they were possible. Tom panted behind him, hot breath wafting across his neck.
Moaning softly, Michael opened his eyes and shifted up on to his elbows.
Tom moved, sliding carefully out and removed the condom.
Michael was so tired, so utterly exhausted from all the sex that he could hardly keep his eyes open. He felt a hand brush down his back and curl around his waist. “Mmm…Michael. Bed?”
He nodded, and they shuffled to the room and he practically fell onto the turned-down bed. Arms around him, a chin pushing into his shoulder and Michael’s only thoughts were of how sated and happy he felt. And that he couldn’t get used to this. It was only work. Only a client. The last words were drowned out by Tom’s even breath in his ear. Better that way, anyway.
[ main l rps l fps ]
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