Luceononuro
Date: 1/31/05
Rating: G/R - not rated
Authors notes: Many thanks to rhiannonhero
– Oracle to the QAF kingdom. Feedback is more than welcome.
Disclaimer: all for fun
Warnings: RPS – run away if it squicks you
“This is Brian Kinney”
I could feel the reaction through the phone. I’d known the producers wanted me as soon as I walked into the audition. But I needed a few days to know what I wanted. The offer was good. Regular work, regular pay, a little more exposure - make that a lot more exposure. I was pretty unconcerned by the whole “gay, sexual predator” thing. A few of my previous acting gigs involved simulating lust and desire, most of the time with people I wouldn’t have turned my head to look at if I was crossing the street, so faking it with a man didn’t faze me. And I’m comfortable enough in my own skin that the thought of being naked on camera didn’t cause me any anxiety at all.
In fact, everything else was pretty much secondary to whether I wanted to obligate myself to the commitment of a series. I was most worried about getting caught up in something long term, I remember thinking of the winter as long term, but I owed enough, and was intrigued enough, that I was willing to give it a shot.
I remember that the only thing I really spent anytime thinking about at all was…what would Justin be like? What type of a man would make Brian’s head turn. Would he be tall like me or smaller? Dark or fair? Muscled or sleek? What combination would work best on screen? I wondered what type of man would be my type, if I had a type, and if that was important when we went for the smoulder and burn that the producers wanted. I knew that chemistry was either there or it wasn’t and I couldn’t help but wonder what a man would have to look like… feel like… be like… to click with how I wanted to play Brian.
Enter Randy. Tiny, blonde, lean, effeminate. Don’t know what I was expecting but he wasn’t it. He wore these tiny little glasses and as we read through our scenes together I remember thinking that this was going to be hard because he looked fragile and reserved. Like he would break if handled. And the first scenes called for a whole lot of handling.
The women I go for are strong and wild looking. Who look like they have secrets that they’ll share. They can hold their own - hold my own – make me want. I found myself with this petite, earnest young man, who giggled when he made a mistake, waved his hands like a bird when he talked and who sat lightly in whatever room he was in. That’s the only way I can describe it, like he was almost floating. Like the rest of us were earth bound and he was ethereal. It made me uncomfortable, made me consider my words, made me wonder how the hell I was going to handle physical contact.
Of course, I didn’t have to wonder long. We shot the “Justin loses his virginity” scenes the first days on the set. We had the sex meetings, established the tone, and played everything out of sequence according to a list of shots. It wasn’t like the stage at all. There was no natural progression. Everything was hyphenated – chopped. It was hard to get a rhythm. We shot the hospital scene before we shot the bedroom scenes, so he was supposed to have already cum on me, but I hadn’t touched him yet. It was easy to play aloof, because I actually was, but he had love struck down to a science. I felt the intensity of Justin’s need. It made me anticipate, and that surprised me.
By the time we filmed Justin and Brian in the loft I was beginning to change my original assessment of Randy. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, he was beginning to draw me in. He was Justin and I was Brian, and I was in full predator mode when I popped the top on that water bottle. I felt a vibration every time I moved to close the distance between us. A buzzing feeling which increased in intensity according to how close our mouths came. I stood back at one point and shook myself, jokingly asking if he could feel what I was feeling. He smiled and said that he remembered his first kiss and the electricity flowing before contact. He said he was channeling and laughed. I wondered.
Before we started filming again he leaned in against my chest. I had to bend my ear towards his mouth to really hear him. He whispered that the vibration before contact was the best part; he told me to kiss his aura before I kissed him. When he stepped back he looked up and nodded as if he was encouraging me. OK - I was uncomfortable again. But then we hit our marks and I could feel the same vibration. I went with it and kissed the force that I could feel around him. When we finally touched I was shocked at how intense the contact was. How much I wanted it. My tongue slid in first and he was right there, licking, sucking. No thought, just feeling. As we watched the footage later I was amazed at how hot we looked. You could almost see the air trembling between us before we touched. I didn’t expect it, but if I had to kiss a man, I guess, I would want him to kiss a lot like Randy.
By the time we moved to the bed, I was intrigued at how easily he was sliding in and out of playing a wanton teenager. How he was managing to hang right on the edge of scared shitless and desperately needy, with periodic glimpses of Randy materializing to offer suggestions, check the dialogue or confirm a mark. I was the aggressor, but he was controlling the scenes. I was the top who was following the bottom.
I remember we were about to shoot “the longest lick down the back side of a boy in television history” and the crew was contemplating the appropriate lighting. I was getting used to handling him and I told him that every time I rubbed or stroked him he released a scent. He laughed, rolling on his stomach, and told me it was body butter, brazil nut. He said that the lights were drying and that he had rubbed himself down with this stuff to protect his skin. That my hands were releasing the scent because of the heat and friction. He told me that he had only rubbed it where my tongue wouldn’t touch. I joked about him being environmentally friendly and rubbed my palms down his sides. He pushed back into me and we stopped laughing. Musky scent, heated body. I dropped my head along his back, pressing my forehead to his spine, breathing him in. His body chemistry creating an essence that was uniquely him. He broke the silence when he whispered that it came from the Body Shop, and I remember thinking that I would buy the store out if he promised to wear it everyday. But what I really remember was the scent. And, I guess, if I had to lick and breathe a man, I would want him to taste and smell a lot like Randy.
A few days later we shot the scenes in the shower. I remember the water was barely luke-warm so that we wouldn’t steam up the glass or camera lenses. We were wet and should have been cold, but they had turned up the heat in the space so that goose bumps were held at bay. The crew was caught up in framing the shots and we were laughing and talking about what we were going to do if we ever got dry. I remember he suddenly asked me how I planned to move when I simulated having sex with him. I remember staring at him speechless and then starting a slow back and forth pumping motion. He assessed my effort and shook his head. He explained that the shot called for him to be pulled up and back against my chest and that the movement I was making would have placed my cock between his legs or into his balls or variations in between, but not up his ass.
At first I had this intense reaction, like he was evaluating my technique, but then I realized that if shower sex was going to be our hall-mark it had better be more than believable. It had to melt screens. And he was right. My movements were not actually simulating sex, even with a woman. This realization sparked a reaction and I turned him around roughly enough that the crew turned to look. I pulled back slightly so that I was where I needed to be to enter a man and not a woman and began rolling my hips up into his ass in slow deliberate movements. I braced my legs and rocked into him, pumping with the effort required to fuck someone from that angle. And he began pushing back. Cock to ass. Surging against each other. I adjusted my grip on his hips and chest to hold the rhythm and the position. Randy’s head dropped back to my shoulder and he began a low rhythmic moaning. We were fucking with no penetration. And the moment was carnal.
When the director yelled “OK, I think we have something here” I was jerked back into the now. Randy smiled at me and returned to his original mark and as I followed his lead, I thought that if I had to touch and fuck a man – I would want him to feel and sound and look a lot like Randy.
The day we consummated our month long foreplay, didn’t start differently than any other. We had shot the New York bit and we just sort of stayed together afterwards, winding up on my couch, waiting. We were listening to some bluesy southern music with our eyes closed. I remember being so aware of his body beside me. Felt my nerve endings respond to his heat. He moved first, leaning over and picking up my hand. Slowly sucking one of my fingers into his mouth. The one that has the word ‘resist’ tattooed along the side. When he finally let it slip from his lips he whispered “don’t” and I knew that it was time.
There was no sexual epiphany. No deep soul shattering realization. It was neither drink nor drug induced. Just a natural progression to the inevitable.
I remember hovering inches above him, feeling the heat rise. Listening to his shuddering inhale and exhale - feeling his body rise and fall and arch towards me. Licked at the fluttering skin in the soft indent of his neck. Breathed his scent - and tasted heat and flush.
I held myself suspended over him - watching him watch me. Gripped his hands and held him still. No longer being led. Knowing I had arrived. And as I looked down at the man I wanted to touch and know and love. I knew I wanted it because …. I want Randy.