Gale/Randy RPS
NC-17
When I was 13 or so my older brother Vince taught me how to roll a joint. We
sprawled in the wet grass of our backyard and looked up at the night sky while
he got me high for the first time. He pointed out constellations like ‘big tit’
and ‘bend over’ that I would later learn didn’t exist. More importantly, he
explained that there were three kinds of people in the world. The kind who tell
you they have to take a leek, the kind who say they have to go to the bathroom
and the kind that excuse themselves to use the restroom. Turns out Vince was
never right about much else, but he was right about that.
**
When the second sentence out of Randy’s mouth the day we met was, ‘excuse me a minute, I have to find a restroom,’ I knew I was going to hate him. Turns out I was right about pretty much everything else, but I was wrong about that.
When I took the job, I figured I’d respect every one else on the project. But, I also figured I wouldn’t like any of them. My guess was they’d be all about the cause and the social impact and the revolutionary blah blah. I mean, I figured no one else wanted good weed bad enough to fuck up an entire career so they all had to be in it for other, more sane, reasons.
Randy and I got off on the wrong foot with the restroom thing and he was just so fucking gay I could hardly stand it. In script meetings he started sentences with ‘when I came out’ and ‘from my experience’ and all I could think was ‘You don’t get a fucking medal for getting fucked up the ass.’ I mean, don’t go thinking I’m some homophobic freak, look at what I ended up doing for a living. It’s just that I got that straight-people-should-die vibe from him which pissed me off. He didn’t know what I was or who I fucked, but I could tell he’d labeled me a breeder from day one. Of course, I’d labeled him a ‘restroom’ user, but I digress.
We were walking on eggshells around each other because we knew we had to fuck on film in a matter of days. I could have asked him to dinner and discussed the potential discomfort, but instead I ignored him. He tried to talk to me about it and I looked at him like he had open sores or something.
I listened to him in the read-throughs, asking insightful questions and trying to ‘build a history’ for Justin and all this other shit. All I could think was ‘shut up show off’ every time he opened his mouth. But then he opened that mouth to kiss me in rehearsal and all I could think was ‘woah’. I couldn’t figure out how that kiss came out of that kid. It was visceral and hungry and unapologetic. And it was hot. God I hated that it was hot.
**
The night before the porn shoot I was a little wound up. I started thinking, what if I get hard when I’m feeling him up? Am I going to be able to stay in character? I wasn’t sure about any of it, so I smoked and drank until I didn’t give a shit. Of course, that’s exactly when Randy called.
“Gale? It’s Randy,” he said quietly after I slurred ‘whaddayawant’ into the phone.
“Oh hey,” I sat up and tried to shake my brain sober. “Uh, what’s up?”
“Just thinking about tomorrow, I mean I’m sure it’ll be okay. But, I just…uh, are you thinking about it?”
“I was watching Jerry actually.”
“Jerry?”
“Springer. Some prostitute is dating her brother and her pimp at the same time and I think maybe her brother might actually be her pimp which would be a nice twist, and that'd be good cause monogamy is cool if you can handle it. I’m not so sure about that one person for life thing but I’m also not sure about prostitution either. Oh, so uh…are you worried about the sex scene?”
“I’m not worried, Jesus. Are you drunk?” He asked in an annoyed voice.
“Come over,” I announced a little too jovially (like it was the best idea I’d ever had), “We can not worry about it together.”
When we got off the phone I rounded up the empty beer cans and cashed buds from the ashtray. I thought about leaving out my bong as a way to feel out Randy’s stance on recreational drug use, but then I realized that might be too overt. Instead I left a roach clip and rolling papers on the coffee table.
He showed up five minutes later. When I flung the door open I said, “Wow! You must live really close,” a little too loudly.
He looked at me like I had open sores or something.
We sat on my couch and watched the end of Jerry (turns out the pimp and the brother were not the same person but the pimp was actually the brother’s twin, so he was the prostitute’s brother but not the brother she was fucking). When the show ended I turned off the television and we sat in silence for a while.
“Wanna smoke?” I gestured to the rolling papers and raised my eyebrows. When in doubt, get high.
“Yeah,” he nodded. It was the first time I sort of liked him.
I pulled my bag of weed out from between two couch cushions and rolled a joint. I lit it, sucked it and handed it over to him. He took a few deep drags and held it in for a long time. I was glad he’d clearly done this before.
We ended up getting really, really high and passing out on my couch. I think we talked about James Joyce and the Industrial Revolution, but we could have talked about Cheerios and Twister for all I know.
When I woke up in the morning Randy was on top of me snoring like a freight train and an alarm was going off somewhere in the distance.
“Fuck,” I muttered trying to get his dead weight off of me. He opened his eyes when I poked his ribs and gave me a bewildered look, like he was a bird with a broken wing that couldn’t figure out how to fly out of my evil clutches.
“Well get up,” I pushed until he rolled off of the couch. He landed on the rug with a thump.
“What time is it?” He looked up at me.
“Dunno, nine maybe,” I answered lazily as I scratched my ass.
“Nine? Fuck! Our call is at nine! Why didn’t your alarm go off earlier? How the fuck are we going to get to work in time? What the fuck am I going to wear? Oh my God we reek like pot! I cannot believe you let me fall asleep over here. I can't believe you got me high!”
The kid was really intense. I lit a joint.
“Queen out much?” I eyed him for a minute and then went on, “Listen, we’re the actors, nothing happens until we get there.” His face changed, I assumed he was thinking something like ‘wow, Gale is so right.’
“You’re an idiot,” he barked at me.
“Wanna smoke?” I added as an afterthought.
“Jesus!” He yelled, “Do you do anything besides smoke?” He threw his hands up in exasperation and I was sure I’d never actually met a drama queen until that moment.
“Uh yeah, I act on this lame TV show and I play a little harmonica.” He rolled his eyes at me. This kid was wound up tighter than a virgin's ass.
He showered, I drove us to work a little high and a little slow, which I'm pretty sure made Randy want to kill me and when we go there we made up some story about a flat tire and went to wardrobe to get naked.
"Are you high?" The hair and makeup chick asked me as she plastered shit on my face.
"Terminally," Randy muttered from the chair next to mine. I shot him a sour look in the mirror and gave the woman a nonchalant laugh. Isn't that what actors were suppose to do, show up on set drunk and high and fuck things up for the hundreds of crew members trying to earn a living? I was just doing my part.
I got naked for the pot-Nazi so she could paint me with bronzer and a mix of other skin-colored shit, then she sprinkled me with fake sweat and made my hair look fuck-tastic before she sent me on my way. Thanks to all the makeup a robe wasn't really an option so I had a little towel to drape over my man parts while I paraded through the halls on my way to the set. I felt like Tarzan. I considered beating my chest. Randy trailed behind me grumbling about how the towel barely covered his ass.
We did ten takes, which requires more stamina than any actual sex I'd ever had. The first was stilted and awkward. The second was stilted and a little more awkward. In the middle of the third the director called cut and asked us for a word. We were basically told to get the fuck over ourselves and shoot some porn. Randy looked horrified, I laughed.
We went back to try again. I figured something had to be done so I really got into it. I started using more tongue and gripping his thighs like I meant it. It took a few more takes for him to react. I think more than anything he was pissed off that the “straight” guy was better at this than he was. After the ninth take the director actually said, "Easy Gale, one more time with a little less...oomph." Apparently I was being too intense. I tried not to bite Randy so hard during the last take.
**
Two months later my brother Vince showed up and my relationship with Randy…changed.
To understand Vince you only need to know the following: he has a penchant for illegal substances and a strong desire to fuck anything that moves. And he’s a great guy. I got the part of Brian Kinney because I pretended I was Vince at the audition.
Vince barreled onto the set one day clutching a Colt 45 and yelling, “It’s cool man! I’m Vince Harold! My brother’s the star of this shit!” He was wearing a purple skullcap and was three sheets to the wind. It was just after 10am. I hadn’t even known he was in the country.
I introduced him around and gave him one of those pop-up director’s chairs so he felt special. He sat balancing his beer on his knee, giving each member of the crew a once-over and occasionally cheering me on while Randy and I finished our millionth sex scene. At one point he screamed ‘make him beg!’ and I was sure I was going to be fired.
Vince watched with intense interest as Randy and I moaned and scratched and clawed and thrusted. We got the scene in four takes. I put on a robe and got pulled aside by an assistant notifying me about a schedule change. Three minutes later I caught the back of Vince and Randy’s heads and they left the room.
I found them in my dressing room, which was sort of a relief. They were laughing and chatting and looking way too chummy.
“Yo bitches, break up the slumber party, I’ve gotta get dressed.” I gave a forced smile and indicated with a head nod that Randy could see his own way out.
They both sat perfectly still and looked at me like I wasn’t communicating in English. Vince laughed, “I think everyone in this room’s seen you naked, bro.”
I dropped my robe on the floor and Randy averted his eyes. He had seen it all, but he blushed a little and I added a point to my side of the scoreboard: Gale 672, Randy 0.
I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt while Vince and Randy talked about which A-list actors were obviously gay.
“So how long are you staying?” Randy actually batted his eyelashes as he asked. No one can resist the Vince charm, resistance is futile.
“He’s not staying long,” I shot Vince a look. I could already see my brother eyeing Randy’s ass. That’s the problem with the Harold’s, we’re all sluts just looking for a little action.
I grabbed my wallet and keys and pulled Vince up out of my chair. “Let’s hit it, I’m starved.”
When we got back to my place I sat Vince at the counter with a beer and a bong while I cooked us pasta. We got high and talked about my new career.
“That’s some intense shit, fucking guys, man.”
“Simulated fucking. It’s acting. I don’t mind it.”
“Well yeah, look at what you get to grind up against.” He coughed and passed the bong.
“Whatever, he’s a good actor but he’s uh…well we just don’t mesh.”
“You don’t mesh? Could have fooled me. You were meshing all over that bed an hour ago.”
“We were acting, that’s what actors do. We play the parts, we have the sex. End of story.”
“Good, then I’m gonna fuck his lily white 18-year-old ass.”
“You are not, and he’s like 23 or some shit.”
“No shit? He looks 12, and I’m fucking him.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You are not.”
“Listen just because you won’t admit you want to fuck him...”
“I what?” I dropped the bong on the floor and it shattered.
“Hey buzz kill, no need to break shit. I’m just pointing out the obvious. You only have an intense dislike for people you secretly love. Like me.”
“I’ve told you, he bores me. He’s pretentious and morose and too smart for his own good.”
“And he’s funny and sexy and has a killer ass.” Vince raised his eyebrows and then added, “And you hate him, so he must be great.”
“Fuck you!” I tossed a spoonful of hot pasta sauce toward Vince and accidentally burned his eye. We had to go to the hospital and he had to get an eye patch. Of course it just gave him a Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean thing. Leave it to Vince to make a burned cornea sexy.
**
Vince ended up staying for longer than he’d expected. In fact, he was still fucking up my guest bedroom and wearing his eye patch two months later.
“So where you gonna go now?” He was eating Captain Crunch and drinking Mountain Dew at my kitchen counter at 3 am.
“I have to go back to LA for a while, then maybe New York. Where are you headed?” I felt a little jolt in my gut when I realized I was going to miss him. Vince had changed everything for me.
“Morocco. There’s a thing there.” When Vince says there’s a ‘thing’ it means you shouldn’t know about it because it’s not legal.
“World’s largest organized orgy?”
He just laughed, which meant I wasn’t too far off.
A toilet flushed and door slammed and then Randy walked into the kitchen wearing a Batman cape over black briefs and carrying a copy of Teen Vogue.
“I thought you left for that thing in Morocco?” He took the Captain Crunch out of Vince’s hand and started chomping.
“Nah, tomorrow.” Vince considered Randy for a minute and then turned to me with a smile, “You’re fucking lucky I showed up to work this out,” he gestured between the two of us, “otherwise you wouldn’t be fucking Batman tonight.”
I laughed, “You’re right Vince, without you there would be no Batman fucking.”
His eyes got wide, “Literally dude, I bought the kid that cape.” He and Randy shared a conspiratorial look.
“Are you coming back to bed?” Randy gulped Vince’s Mountain Dew to wash down the cereal and looked at me innocently.
“Not until you brush your fucking teeth,” I smiled as I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to me. When I stuck my tongue in his mouth all I tasted was sugar.
Randy growled at me and then started to run away. As I chased him down the hall his cape fluttered behind him. It looked like he was flying.
**
“So why am I wearing this cape again?” Randy was breathing heavy and squirming below me.
“I have a thing for Batman,” I laughed as I licked his nipples until he whimpered.
“Which one?” He was nearly breathless and we’d just started making out. It was sexy.
“Val Kilmer,” I bit the skin on the outside of his ribs and watched his back arched as he hissed.
“What the fuck? He was a shitty Batman. And he’s gay, he doesn’t count.”
I stopped sucking his thigh and raised my head to look at him, “All Batmans are gay.”
“All Batmans?” He started laughing so hard he nearly choked.
I pinned his arms above his head and shut him up with my tongue. I kept kissing him until his hips started to lift off the bed and his crotch started grinding into my hip.
“God, fuck me,” he pleaded when I started to suck his collarbone.
“Bossy, bossy bottom,” I laughed into this neck, it was warm and it smelled good.
“Who you callin’ a bottom?” He rolled us over so that he was on top of me, thighs spread over my hips, holding my arms down so I couldn’t move. He smirked, “You love it when I bend you over the back of the couch and fuck you so hard your eyes water and your throat hurts the next day from screaming like a bitch in heat the whole time.”
I shook my head, “And you used to use the restroom.”
“Lucky for us Vince came for a visit.”
I smiled and he smiled back. “Lucky for us,” I agreed.
He pushed my legs apart and mouthed my balls until my ass started to rise off the bed. He knew just how to get me.
Then he flicked his tongue over the crack of my ass and licked my hole lightly until a strangled little moan escaped my throat.
“You love it,” he laughed triumphantly as he slid a finger into my ass. He added a second and bit his bottom lip, watching my face change from the stretch.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered. I knew I’d lost.
“Beg me for it,” he whispered.
“Do me Batman, do me.” I started to laugh.
“Beg better,” he barked.
It sounded like a threat and I needed a good fuck pretty badly so I cleared my throat, “Fuck me. Fuck me until my eyes roll back in my head and my ass burns and my heart is hammering in my chest and I’m screaming so loud the whole fucking neighborhood knows that Batman is the best lay ever.”
“That’s better,” he ripped open a condom and slid it on his dick. He raised my legs up onto his shoulder and positioned himself between my thighs. He knew I wasn’t so hot on the face-to-face ass fuck so he smiled, “I want you to see the cape flapping in the breeze while I ride you.”
My laughter turned into a strangled moan as he pushed inside. The kid knew how to fuck. He also knew how to make me laugh. He also knew a lot of other things that made him the greatest fucking person I’d ever known. Turned out I didn’t hate him at all.
In the end, I might love him a little. Lucky for us Vince came for a visit.
End
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