The glow from his laptop screen was the only light in the dingy apartment. Dante Kolby stared at the numbers in his bank account, his stomach twisting into a cold, hard knot. Rent due in five days. The severance from getting fired last week was already gone, swallowed by back bills and the sheer, fucking panic of it all.
He clicked through job boards, the listings blurring together into a grey mess of “competitive salaries” and “team players.” None of it meant a damn thing. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He needed cash. Fast.
Scrolling further down, into the darker corners of the internet he usually avoided, an ad flashed. Bold, garish letters. ‘MALE PERFORMERS WANTED. EASY MONEY. NO EXP NECESSARY. $1500+ PER SHOOT.’
Dante’s thumb hovered over the trackpad. His heart hammered against his ribs. Easy money. The phrase was a hook, sharp and barbed. He knew what it meant. He wasn’t stupid. The thumbnail image was blurred, but the shapes were unmistakable—the curve of a back, the grip of a hand on a hip.
Fuck no. He went to close the tab.
His phone buzzed on the desk. A notification from his landlord. ‘Reminder: Payment overdue.’
A low groan tore from his throat. He leaned back, running his hands over his short-cropped hair. The military discipline that had carved his body—the broad shoulders, the tight abs, the powerful legs and that ass he’d caught women (and a few men) staring at in the gym—felt useless now. What good was a six-pack when you couldn’t pay for fucking groceries?
He clicked the ad.
The application was disturbingly simple. Name. Age. Stats. Photo requirements: face, body, full-length. “Full frontal optional but preferred for casting.”
“Christ,” Dante muttered to the empty room. His skin felt too tight, hot with a shameful kind of curiosity. Fifteen hundred dollars. For one day. One… thing. He could pay rent. Get some breathing room. It wasn’t real. It was acting. A performance.
He stood up, pacing the short length of his living room. His reflection in the dark window showed a man wound tight with tension. You’re straight, he told himself. You like women. Soft skin, curves, the smell of perfume. He’d never so much as thought about another guy like that. Not seriously.
But the memory of the eviction notice on his old apartment, the way his dad’s disappointed silence had sounded over the phone when he’d lost his job… that was louder than any principle.
“Fuck it,” he whispered, the words gritty in his throat. “Just… fuck it.”
He stripped off his shirt, the cool air hitting his sweat-dampened skin. He took the photos against his blank wall with his phone, his expression grim. Face. Clenched abs. A turn to show the muscular sweep of his back and the round, firm curve of his ass in his boxer briefs. He took a breath, steeling himself, and pushed the briefs down.
His cock, soft and thick, nestled in neatly trimmed dark hair. He was big—he knew that, too. A fact women had appreciated. The idea of some guy looking at this photo, getting hard, judging him… it made his gut churn. But his fingers trembled as he attached the final photo and hit ‘send’ before he could think.
*
The callback came two days later. A guy named Josh with a smooth, businesslike voice. “Dante? We got your package. You’ve got the look we want. You available tomorrow?”
“The… the look?” Dante managed, gripping the phone.
“The straight-guy-next-door thing. The military build. The,” Josh paused, and Dante could hear the fucking smirk through the line, “generous equipment. Audiences eat that shit up. You’ll be paired with Jax. He’s a pro. He’ll guide you through. All you gotta do is show up, get hard, and fuck. Two thousand. Cash. At the end.”
Two thousand. The number echoed in Dante’s skull.
“I… I’ve never done anything with a guy,” Dante blurted, his face burning.
“Even better,” Josh said, his tone flat. “The authenticity sells. So? In or out?”
The silence stretched. Dante heard the drip of his leaky kitchen faucet. Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a countdown.
“I’m in,” he said, the words tasting like ash.
*
The studio was a nondescript warehouse space, smelling of industrial cleaner and faintly of sweat. Josh, a wiry man with sharp eyes, handed him a robe and a release form. “Jax is in the green room. Go get acquainted. We roll in twenty.”
Dante’s feet felt like lead. He pushed the door open.
The man inside turned from a mirror. Jax. He was probably Dante’s age, late twenties, with sun-bleached blond hair and a lean, swimmer’s build. His eyes, a clear blue, scanned Dante head to toe, and a slow, easy smile spread across his face. It wasn’t threatening. It was… appreciative. Hungry.
“Holy shit,” Jax said, his voice a warm rasp. “They weren’t fucking kidding. You are a goddamn meal.”
Dante just stood there, frozen, the robe clutched in his hands.
Jax stood up. He wore a loose pair of sweatpants and nothing else. His chest was smooth, defined. “First time, huh?”
Dante nodded, his throat too tight for words.
“It’s cool. It’s just bodies, man. Just friction. Just feelin’ good.” Jax stepped closer. He didn’t smell like perfume. He smelled like clean skin and faint citrus soap. “Look, the camera needs us to look like we’re into it. That starts with you not lookin’ like you’re headed to a firing squad. You ever had a blowjob?”
“What?” Dante choked out.
“A blowjob. You like ‘em?” Jax’s hand came up, not touching, just hovering near Dante’s arm. “Because I’m gonna suck your cock until you forget your own name. And then you’re gonna fuck me. And we’re gonna get paid. Sound good?”
The vulgar, direct words hit Dante like a physical shock. But underneath the panic, something else stirred. A low, reluctant thrum of interest. This guy wasn’t ashamed. He was stating facts. And the facts were… intensely specific.
“Yeah,” Dante breathed, the word barely audible.
“Good. Lose the clothes. Let me see what I’m workin’ with.”
With trembling fingers, Dante undressed. The air felt electric on his bare skin. He stood there, exposed, his hands awkward at his sides. Jax’s gaze was a physical touch, roaming over his shoulders, his chest, down the trail of hair below his navel, and settling on his cock, which was, to Dante’s horror and fascination, beginning to thicken, to stir.
“Fuck me,” Jax whistled, low and long. “You are hung, brother. That’s a fucking beautiful dick. Thick. Heavy.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of Dante’s hand. “Can I?”
Dante’s brain screamed NO. His body, wired with desperation and a sudden, shocking curiosity, made him nod.
Jax’s hand wrapped around his cock. It wasn’t a woman’s hand. It was stronger, firmer, the calluses on the palm rough against his sensitive skin. Shit. A jolt shot straight up Dante’s spine. His dick jumped in Jax’s grip, filling rapidly, growing impossibly hard in seconds.
“See?” Jax murmured, his thumb sliding over the swollen head, smearing a bead of pre-cum. “Just bodies. Your dick doesn’t give a fuck who’s touchin’ it. It just knows it feels good.” He began to stroke, a slow, knowing pull that made Dante’s knees weak. “You like that? You like my hand on your big fucking cock?”
“I…” Dante’s head fell back, a groan ripping from him. “God… yeah.”
“Yeah, you do. You’re gonna love my mouth more.” Jax sank to his knees right there on the floor.
The sight was the most pornographic thing Dante had ever witnessed. Jax, looking up at him with those blue eyes, his lips parting. He didn’t tease. He leaned in and licked a thick, wet stripe from the base of Dante’s balls all the way up the throbbing underside of his shaft to the tip.
“Aaaahh, fuck!” Dante gasped, his hands flying out to brace against the wall.
Jax took him in, deep and slow. His mouth was hot, wetter than anything Dante had ever felt, and his tongue worked relentlessly. Glrk. Shlck. The sounds were filthy, obscene. Dante could only stare down, mesmerized, as his own dark, thick cock disappeared between Jax’s pink lips, saw the bulge it made in Jax’s cheek. The heat, the smoothness, the pressure…
“Oh, shit… oh, god…” Dante chanted, his hips giving an involuntary little thrust.
Jax moaned around him, the vibration traveling straight up Dante’s dick. He pulled off, saliva stringing from his lips to the gleaming head. “Taste so good, Dante. Fuck. Your cock is perfect. I wanna feel it in my throat.” He dove back down, taking him deeper, his nose pressing into Dante’s neatly trimmed pubic hair.
The last shreds of Dante’s resistance burned away in a white-hot flood of sensation. This wasn’t gay. This was just… a fucking incredible blowjob. His hands, acting on their own, tangled in Jax’s blond hair. Not to push him away. To hold him there. To guide him.
“Yeah, just like that,” Dante grunted, his voice rough with lust. “Suck it. Suck my fucking dick.”
Jax redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head, slurping and sucking, his hand working the base. Dante’s world narrowed to the wet, tight heat engulfing him. He fucked into Jax’s mouth, gently at first, then harder, losing himself in the rhythm. Schllp. Glrk. Uhnn.
“Gonna cum…” Dante warned, his balls drawing up tight.
Jax pulled off with a wet pop. “Not yet, big guy. You gotta save that for my ass.” He stood up, his own erection tenting his sweatpants. He pushed them down, kicking them off. His cock was hard, curving upward, leaking freely. “I need you inside me. Right fucking now.”
He turned, bending over the back of a couch, presenting his ass. He grabbed a bottle of lube from a table, squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, and reached back. Dante watched, hypnotized, as Jax fingered himself open, his other hand stroking his own dick.
“Look at that hole,” Jax panted. “It’s fucking empty. It needs your cock, Dante. It needs that big, fat dick to stretch it wide open. You wanna fuck it? You wanna feel how tight my ass is?”
The dirty talk was a lightning strike to Dante’s system. He stepped forward, his own cock aching, dripping. He took the lube bottle and poured a slick, cold stream over his length, hissing at the sensation. He rubbed it in, his hand sliding easily over his swollen flesh.
“Yeah, get it wet,” Jax moaned. “Get it nice and slippery for my fucking hole.”
Dante lined up, the broad head of his cock pressing against Jax’s entrance. It was hot, impossibly tight, a ring of muscle clenching against him. He looked down, watching his own dick press into another man’s body. This is it. No going back.
He pushed.
“UUNNGGHH!” Jax cried out, a sharp, beautiful sound of being filled. “Fuck! Yes!”
The resistance gave way, and Dante slid inside, an inch, then two, buried in a clutching, velvety heat that was so much tighter, so much more than anything he’d ever imagined. He froze, shuddering, overwhelmed.
“Oh my god…” Dante breathed, his knuckles white where he gripped Jax’s hips.
“Move,” Jax begged, pushing back against him. “Fuck me, Dante. Pound my ass. Give me every fucking inch.”
Dante drew back and slammed forward. Thwap. The sound of their bodies meeting. A jolt of pure, undiluted pleasure blasted through him. FUCK. He did it again. And again. Setting a brutal, driving rhythm.
The sounds were a symphony of filth. The wet smack of skin on skin. The sticky squelch of his cock plunging in and out of Jax’s lubed hole. Jax’s ragged moans and choked-off curses. “Yes! Right there! Fuck my ass, you stud!”
Dante lost himself. He gripped Jax’s hips, his fingers digging into the flesh, and fucked him with a single-minded intensity. His military discipline found a new purpose: to drive his cock as deep as it would go, to feel that tight heat milk him dry. He watched, fascinated, as his own dick, shiny with lube and the slickness from Jax’s body, disappeared over and over into the other man’s ass.
“You like that?” Dante grunted, his voice guttural, foreign to his own ears. “You like gettin’ fucked by a straight guy’s cock?”
“I love it!” Jax screamed, his own hand a blur on his dick. “Your dick is so fucking big! It’s splitting me open! Don’t stop! Fuck!”
Dante’s orgasm built like a tsunami, unstoppable, rising from his balls, coiling up his shaft. The sight, the sounds, the smell of sweat and sex, the incredible tightness hugging his cock—it all fused into a single point of blinding need.
“I’m gonna cum…” he growled, his thrusts turning frantic, jerky. “Gonna fill your fucking ass…”
“Do it!” Jax shrieked. “cum in me! Pump your fucking load in my hole!”
With a roar that tore from the depths of his chest, Dante slammed home and held there. His cock erupted, pulse after hot, thick pulse, flooding Jax’s insides. It felt endless, a release so profound his vision whited out at the edges. He ground his hips, spilling everything he had, his body shuddering violently.
Jax came a second later with a choked cry, his cum shooting in ropes onto the couch cushion, his ass clenching rhythmically around Dante’s still-spurting cock, milking out the last drops.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Dante stayed buried, his softening dick still nestled inside that incredible heat, drips of his own cum leaking out around the edges. The shame was gone. In its place was a thick, sated buzz. A revelation.
He’d just had the hardest, most intense orgasm of his life. With a man. And he’d loved every filthy, fucking second of it.
Slowly, he pulled out. The plop sound was lewd, final. He looked down. Jax’s hole was pink, well-used, glistening with lube and the proof of Dante’s climax.
Jax turned, collapsing onto the couch, a blissed-out smile on his face. He looked at Dante’s softening, glistening cock. “Told you,” he panted. “Just bodies.”
Dante looked at the two thousand dollars in cash Josh had silently placed on the table at some point during the fuck. He looked at Jax’s spent, satisfied body. He looked at his own dick, which had just been inside a man.
A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his own face. His heart was still pounding, but with excitement now, not fear. “Yeah,” Dante said, his voice hoarse. “Just bodies.” He reached down, gave his own softening dick a rough, possessive stroke. It twitched in his hand. “So… when’s the next shoot?”
