A bit of awkwardness followed as they chatted about easier things like music, movies, and sports, until they were interrupted—saved—by Garrett’s stomach loudly protesting the lateness of its dinner.
“Go eat, dude, before your stomach starts digesting your internal organs,” Justin commanded with a laugh.
“Way to kill my appetite. Ick.”
Justin snorted. “I’ve seen you eat. I bet nothing puts you off your grub. Gotta fuel that huge, gorgeous body somehow.”
Trying not to squirm, Garrett cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay. I won’t keep you any longer. I sent the article, so when you have a chance, send it back with your fixes or whatever.”
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“Will do. Have a good meal and enjoy the rest of your night, sweetcheeks,” Justin teased.
“Good night, jerk,” Garrett said, and he hung up, grinning. He heaved himself up off the sofa and headed into the kitchen to heat up some Thai leftovers, glad he had managed to get his foot out of his mouth. He’d far rather have a different body part of Justin’s down his throat instead.
JUSTIN returned his e-mail the next morning, correcting a few minor details like “Kris” instead of “Chris” and suggesting humorous additions such as the length of all the guys’ dicks. Garrett laughed as he read Justin’s explanation that this would “help the readers more accurately visualize”
the guys mentioned in the story. He also suggested that Garrett add his
own
measurements, suggesting that Garrett say he was “a full six inches” so that Justin’s “ten and a half, at least” would be more impressive.
Garrett replied, thanking Justin for helping with the article and assuring him he would give his suggestions the serious consideration they deserved. He was just finishing up when his office phone rang and his friend Chad shouted,
“Yo, asswipe! You didn’t tell me you were a porn star now!”
“Um. What? Are you drunk? Again? Also, hello,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m totally sober, you loser. There’s a picture of you on the Internet, on the Hawk stage getting a hand job from When Work Is a Pleasure |
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some smokin’ hot dude. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I hate you forever.”
“So, that’s like five more minutes, right?” Garrett posited, opening up a new browser window on his computer.
“Where did you find this? Oh my God, what if my mother sees it?” he asked, starting to panic.
“Dude, if your mom is looking at the Folsom Street Fair photo galleries, I don’t think she’s gonna have much of a leg to stand on if she’s upset with you.”
“Never, ever, go there again,” Garrett warned, hanging up on his friend and finding the web site. He clicked through four pages and finally located the picture Chad had been talking about: him, full frontal, Justin’s hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes closed, head thrown back, clearly about one second from coming.
Jesus H. Christ
.
Although there were no names or anything to identify him, his face burned with embarrassment. Justin looked unbelievably sexy, of course, and Garrett was a little surprised that the longer he stared at the picture, the hotter it seemed. If he could forget about it being
him
, it was actually kind of a turn-on. Huh.
“Nice…” a voice purred behind him. Ellen leaned forward to get a closer look, one hand on Garrett’s shoulder.
“Holy shit, is that you, Garrett? Damn, boy,” she said in an impressed tone.
Garrett quickly clicked away from the photo, his face coloring. “Uh. Did you want something?”
“Well, if I didn’t before, I certainly do now.” She grinned.
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have a reason for invading your cube. Are you finished with your article yet? We need to get this out.”
Garrett confirmed that he was, and they discussed the other writers’ contributions and the overall layout and content of the upcoming issue of
Queer America
. It sounded awesome, and Garrett was really looking forward to seeing it, more so than any other issue since his first solo byline. Ellen left and he got back to work, shooting off some e-mails thanking everyone he’d interviewed for their time. He considered sending an e-mail to his editor, Jeff, for letting him do such a big story despite the fact that he’d only been at the magazine for about a year. Then he decided it just made him seem like a kiss-ass and deleted it. He’d thank the guy next time they met up in the break room, getting coffee or something.
Unfortunately, Garrett’s life was nowhere near that ordinary. The next time he was in the break room, he did indeed find his boss getting coffee at the same time.
Unfortunately, there was also a full-color print-out of the picture of Garrett at the Folsom Street Fair tacked up to the wall next to the coffee pot. Jeff was staring at it in a way that made Garrett squirm. He was going to have to kill Ellen. She was clearly some kind of evil demon.
As Garrett grabbed the pot and poured, his boss didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to; the smirk on his face said it all. As did his pointed glance up and down Garrett’s body, lingering on his crotch.
“She e-mailed it to everyone in the office, didn’t she?”
Garrett asked, turning to bang his head on the wall.
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“And probably everyone else she knows,” Jeff agreed. He ignored Garrett’s groan, laughed, and said, “Well, at least you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, kiddo.
And you had a good time, right?”
Garrett shrugged and then nodded. “Yeah. I guess I did.
It’s just… I don’t want everyone to think I’m like that.”
“Everyone who counts knows what you’re like and isn’t gonna think less of you. As for anyone else, well, fuck ’em.
And who knows? Maybe it’ll get you some more action,” Jeff added, his eyes twinkling.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Jeff clasped him on the shoulder. “Any time. And good article, by the way. You impressed me. And not just with the size of your dick.”
Trying to keep his face from flushing, Garrett stuttered,
“Oh, uh, thanks. I mean, about the article. Obviously. And I wanted to say thanks for letting me write it. I appreciate that you took a bit of a gamble giving me a lead story.”
“Just keep it up.” Jeff nodded, saluting him with his coffee cup. “And Garrett? Glad you enjoyed yourself at the fair.” He winked as he left.
Garrett groaned again. Oh well. At least it wasn’t an unflattering picture. In fact…. Looking around quickly, Garrett removed the thumbtack and tucked the printout into his folder. He was going to take it home and put it up in his office as a memento.
What? Justin was
hot
.
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A FEW days later, as Garrett was hunting for his keys so he could go to the market, his cell phone rang. It wasn’t one of the wacky ring tones of his friends, not the “We Are Family”
clip for his parents and brother, but not the “unidentified caller” tune either. He picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Justin. The guy who jerked you off at Folsom?”
Garrett laughed. “Which one? It was a busy day for me.”
“Oh fine. And here I thought I was special. So what are you up to?”
Pinning the phone between his head and shoulder, Garrett started going through the pockets of his clothes scattered around on the floor. “Just looking for my keys so I can go to the store and buy food.”
“Ah. Well, if you’re busy, I could call back….”
“Nah, you can talk while I keep looking. What’s up?” he asked.
There was a slight pause on Justin’s end. “Not much.
Just wanted to, uh, say hi, I guess. See how you were.”
“Really? Wow, awesome.” Garrett was somewhere between puzzled and flattered and knew he sounded like a huge dork but didn’t care, he was so pleased. “I’ve been good, I guess. Work is okay, if a little less exciting this month. No more getting paid to watch porn.”
“Too bad you’re not in my line of work,” Justin teased.
“You’d get to see hot guys fuck every day.”
“Yeah, no kidding. How’s that been going for you?”
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“I’m not complaining.” Garrett could hear the grin in Justin’s voice. “Hawk has been good to me so far. In fact, I’ll be back up there for a shoot in a few days if you want to get together over the weekend.”
Holy shit, was Justin asking him out? Or, no, more likely he just wanted to be buddies. They’d had a good time together the weekend of the fair, and while Garrett had
really
liked the hand job, it probably hadn’t meant anything at all to Justin. Just another day’s work. He needed to get over it.
Right. And Justin was still waiting for Garrett to reply.
“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m pretty free. Was thinking of letting some friends and co-workers drag me out to a club on Friday, and you’d be welcome to join us. Or we could do more sightseeing or whatever,” he offered.
“Yeah, that’d be great.” Justin paused. “Okay, I know this is random, but I wondered if you knew of any super cheap hotels that weren’t in the scary parts of the city? I totally don’t want to stay in the same shithole Hawk booked for me last time.”
“Huh. I don’t really know much about the hotels, here, but I could ask around. Or. Um. Youcouldstayhere,” he offered in a rush. “I mean, if you want. You don’t have to. I mean, you probably don’t want to. I mean, we don’t know each other all that well. But I have a fold-out sofa, if you do.
Want to. Or not,” he stuttered.
Justin laughed. “Dude, breathe. I appreciate the offer, truly. Um, are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
Garrett took a deep breath. And another one. “Well, how many days are we talking?”
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“Three days, two nights.”
Nodding, Garrett said, “Yeah, that should be okay. I mean, you’ll seriously cramp my weekend party-boy lifestyle, of course, since I have men in and out at all hours, but I think I could squeeze you in.”
“I’ll bring extra lube,” Justin suggested.
Garrett snorted. “Who says I bottom?”
“I’m pretty sure you just did,” Justin shot back, and they both laughed. “Well, I look forward to seeing more of your exciting life. If your wild parties keep me up, I’ll just steal your bed while you’re busy snorting coke off some twink’s tight little ass.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Garrett agreed, flopping onto the sofa and feeling something hard under the cushion. “Oh hey, my keys!”
“Better let you go, then. Hey, get some pancake mix and I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Awesome,” he said, grinning like a dork. Pancakes!
Garrett was so in love with this guy.
They talked for a few more moments, arranging when and where to meet up. Garrett found his shoes, made a mental note to start cleaning up his mess as soon as he got back home, and took off into the city, grinning and unintentionally flashing dimples at everyone he passed on the way to the market.
Justin was going to stay with him for three whole days.
And nights. On his sofa. While Garrett was in his bedroom.
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hands all over Garrett’s dick,
in public
, slept just a few feet away.
Shit.
Some part of Garrett’s psyche was clearly totally masochistic.
BY THE time Justin dropped his duffel bag onto the floor beside the sofa and headed to the bathroom for a shower, Garrett was finally starting to unwind. They’d grabbed some food after he’d picked Justin up at the airport, and Justin’s relaxed teasing had put him at ease. It wasn’t that “Justin”
wasn’t as sexy as his “Alec” persona, but that it was easier to remember how silly and dorky and
normal
the guy was. He was still pretty touchy-feely, but that wasn’t exactly something Garrett minded.
Well, didn’t usually mind. He and most of his friends tended to paw at each other a lot. But Garrett almost always got so flustered and reserved around truly hot guys that he had to make more of an effort to be his normal self with Justin.
Seriously, he thought, it would probably help a lot if he stopped watching “Alec’s” videos and jerking off to them. It was making their tentative friendship—as well as Garrett’s humongous crush on the guy—incredibly awkward.
So, yeah. He’d just stop objectifying Justin and all would be well.
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wrapped around his hips, and sit down next to Garrett on the sofa, skin still glistening with moisture. He smelled fantastic and Garrett wanted to lick him. Anywhere.
Everywhere
.
Garrett closed his eyes and whimpered.
“So, where are we going and what should I wear?”
Justin asked, the humor in his voice letting Garrett know he was totally aware of his friend’s reaction to him but choosing to ignore it for the moment.
“Cocteau’s. It’s just a typical club, but they’ve got a nice lounge area to hang out in as well as the dance floors, so it’s where my friends and I go most of the time. Nothing too flashy, I guess. You’re hot enough as it is,” Garrett answered.
“I’m probably just gonna wear jeans and… a shirt.”
Justin shook his head, sighing as he stood up. “I am choosing your clothes. You’ve got to have something better for clubbing than ‘a shirt’. Come on; show me your closet,”
he ordered, holding out a hand to pull Garrett up from the sofa.
After declaring that Garrett was “the most fashion-backward fag I’ve ever met,” Justin managed to sort out four possible shirts, two pairs of shoes, and a jacket that he decided were acceptable for clubbing. With a combination of flattery and wheedling, he managed to get Garrett into an extremely tight grayish silver T-shirt and somehow even convinced him to submit to some gel in his hair. When Garrett looked in the mirror, he had to admit Justin had been right—he did look pretty good like this.