"Come on, sweetheart, a bit more enthusiasm? Fucking fake it if you have to, Christ. Good thing you've got some nice tits because you won't be getting anywhere in this business on your acting chops alone."
The girl had been okay with the threesome. She’d taken Dean’s matter-of-fact bossy attitude in stride, she had only looked mildly annoyed when Dean had slapped her arse and told her to get on her knees.
But that? That clearly strikes a nerve. Even Todd winces, his mouth stretching in a clear ‘yikes’ expression as the girl, a young aspiring actress whose name he doesn’t even know, stands up from between them, slaps Dean hard across the face, makes a quick grab for her discarded clothes, and walks out of the door, her high heels clacking loudly on the hardwood floor of Dean’s home office cum lounge.
Dean looks unperturbed, just smirks a bit at Todd and rolls his eyes, as though this is the sort of thing that happens to him all the time. Which it probably does.
Todd realizes he’s still got his own cock in his hand and quickly releases it, feeling a bit awkward. This is a new development in what’s becoming a regular tryst in Dean’s home, and now that the girl’s gone, it might not be deemed appropriate to keep on jerking off.
But then Dean shoves his smoldering cigar between his teeth to free both of his hands, one of which lands on a huge television remote to unmute the porno that's been playing on the large television, the other goes to his groin naturally, to fondle his still spit-slick cock. So Todd takes up his own once again, following Dean’s lead and turning to face the television. Dean shrugs.
"Fuck her," he says after he's removed the cigar again. It smokes unchecked in the hand not on his dick.
"Well, not anymore."
"That's why the skin business is so successful, Todd, manic fucking birds like that, can't take a bit of criticism. It's no wonder I'm in a multi-million dollar industry. Look at her," He points to the screen and Todd realizes he'd been watching Dean the whole time. There’s a blonde with big, red lips getting fucked between her enormous tits and she's moaning like a cock on her chest is what she always wanted as a little girl, rather than a pony.
Dean continues, "She knows how to take it. Criticism, I mean. She isn't gonna be offended if you tell her faster, wetter, bit more ball fondling. She isn't gonna get up and strop off as long as there's a dick left standing, you know what I mean?"
Todd nods but he's only half listening. His gaze had abandoned Dean's perfect woman not long after landing on her, and now they're cut painfully to the side, watching as Dean alternates rhythm, stroking himself between his open fly. Both of them are half undressed, shirts open where the girl had giggled over the curls on Dean's chest, and had pinched at Todd's sensitive nipples. But somehow, where Todd feels disheveled and awkward, Dean looks a treat, pressed and wrinkled in all the right places, long and lean, thick and hard. And warm, so warm even though they're not quite touching, close enough for Todd to smell Dean's aftershave.
“You need a thick skin if you want to make it in this business, she’s going to learn that pretty sharpish – she’ll come crawling back soon enough. They all do, in the end. You can take yourself as seriously as you like, talk about your ‘art’ and your ‘career’, but in the end it’s all about sex, Todd. These projects of Garth’s, they’re good, nice for your public image. But they don’t bring in the money. Fucking, on the other hand! Fucking always brings in the money.”
It surprises him, this comfortable monologue, not that Dean's ever been anything but comfortable talking about sex. Todd knows too well that Dean can describe, with graphic if not exactly poetic detail, every nipple, arse and snatch of his acquaintance.
“Yeah,” Todd says, and turns his head just a fraction, so he can take in Dean’s wet lips, swollen from kissing that girl, and the way the muscles of his forearm move under his smooth skin as he jerks himself off, an image a million times more appealing than any porno in the world. Dean doesn’t seem to notice where Todd’s attention is focused, his eyes still on the Technicolor pink flesh jiggling on the screen.
“I’ve told you before, Todd, if you’re ever in need of more work, all you gotta do is ask. I’m sure I can find a place for you in one of my productions.”
Dean turns to glance at Todd as he says it, and it’s too late to look away, too late to pretend he hasn’t been staring. But Dean just smirks, undaunted, and raises an eyebrow. He moves his arm to give Todd a clear view of his cock, angling his hips just so, putting on a bit of a show.
“Of course, that might not be to your tastes. That’s alright. I’ve been considering branching out. I hear there’s a big market at the moment for upscale gay porno.”
Dean turns his gaze back to the screen, not waiting to see how his comment lands, just keeps his hand moving steadily in an easy, practiced rhythm, and takes a long drag off of his fat cigar, his lips wrapped tightly around the end of it. He has to know the images that the gesture immediately conjures in Todd’s brain, it has to be deliberate. Todd licks his lips and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. It seems useless to try to be covert about it now.
But even as he feels himself flush and look away, and back again when it's invited (and because he just can't not look), he's surprised by this easy acceptance. Fear of looking another man in the eye or not, Dean's a ladies' man through and through. Todd expected name-calling, red-faced accusations, being tossed out on his arse should his eyes wander from the girl's tits to Dean's cock for too long. It's why he agreed to this little party, why this isn't their first, why he's so hard he can't think straight. All for Dean, whos’s stroking himself like an offering, not like he's actually trying to get off, and sucking on his cigar like he can't get his fill and letting the smoke drift lazily from the sides of his mouth where he smiles around it.
"Or have I got it wrong?" Dean asks, cigar in hand again, but Todd can tell from the smirk that he knows he hasn't.
"Dean," Todd says even though he doesn't really know what he's going to say, and it doesn't matter once Dean settles a little deeper into the sofa cushions beside him, stretches and spreads those endlessly long legs invitingly. He isn't looking at Todd, he's watching his dick where he fondles it easily, teasingly, a show, and when Todd thinks he's going to burst with wanting, Dean finally cuts his eyes over and smiles.
"Don't you want to finish what she started?"
______
It isn't like this is Dean's first blowie from a bloke, though those encounters usually don't extend past the casting couch, young kids he doesn't plan to hire anyway. It's a little more delicate when he knows he's got to turn around and work with them the next day. But he has always wondered about Todd's full-lipped mouth, pouty like a woman's, like it was made for sucking cock. He reckoned from the first scene they'd shot with Madeleine Wool and Todd together that the guy might be a bum jockey, but he hadn't really been sure until the first of their little group activities, feeling Todd's heavy-lidded eyes more on him than the girl they were both fucking.
And even if the girls have always done their best to get Dean off, brought their finest work to the table, their determined seductions never get Dean going like the barely concealed lust in Todd's hungry, secretive gaze.
It’s that desire that gets him. Dean is not an idiot, he knows that most of the girls who throw themselves at him do it because of his status. Todd, however, Todd clearly doesn’t give a shit about Dean’s money. He’s not trying to get a part in one of Dean’s productions, he’s not trying to get one of his books published, he’s not doing it to get to some other celebrity of Dean’s entourage. He’s doing it because he loves cock, pure and simple. There’s something attractive about that kind of honest desire, and Dean is not above encouraging it, or even using it to get off.
It’s gratifying, the way Todd nearly swallows his own tongue at Dean’s invitation and he watches Todd’s eyes flick back and forth between his face and his crotch, where Dean’s fondling himself lightly, not enough to get off but just enough to keep Todd interested and remind him of what’s on offer.
“Dean…” Todd repeats, choking on the word. He looks hesitant and disbelieving and eager all at once, and Dean is put in mind of a dog being presented with a juicy steak, eyeing its master like it can’t believe it’s actually going to be allowed to eat it.
“Well, don’t you? Because it would only take me two minutes to get another girl who can get the job done, if you’d rather just sit there and stare at my dick.”
That’s all it takes for Todd to scramble off of the sofa and onto his knees. There’s something a bit pathetic about his eagerness, but something quite satisfying about it, too.
“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, will you? Because my career—”
That’s cute, the way he asks it. Naïve. Todd should know that most men will say anything if it means they might get a blow job out of it. No, Dean probably won’t tell anyone about it, but it’s nice knowing he could. Knowledge is power, and Dean likes power.
“You have my word, Todd, but fucking get on with it.”
______
Todd’s head is a bit swimmy and he’s sure he’s sweating, kneeling between Dean’s spread legs, and with permission no less. He swallows, keeps his gaze down lest Dean spook from the intimacy and deny him after all. But oh, there’s plenty to look at down here. He can’t help but run his hands along the expensive fabric of Dean’s trousers, to feel the warmth of him beneath them. He tugs at the material, meaning to pull them down a little more and Dean lifts his hips a bit to accommodate, until Dean’s naked to his upper thigh.
Dean has amazing legs, Todd’s always appreciated that, and they’re as good or better up close, dotted with dark hairs, hot where the insides of his thighs, his knees, nudge at Todd’s sides. There's a smear of red lipstick halfway up Dean's shaft and Todd frowns at it, but tries to put it out of his mind. It’s too good, being surrounded like this, by Dean, the feel, the smell (expensive cologne, cigars, and a hint of ladies’ perfume) and—Todd thinks as he licks his lips and watches the way Dean strokes himself lazily—the taste. Oh God, if anyone knew just how much he wanted this, that he was doing it, on his knees for Dean Fucking Learner…
Well, honestly, it’s not like he’d be the first.
"Are we getting on with this sometime soon or have I got to fish out another VHS? You haven’t got to fall in love with it, Rivers, just put it in that rosy little mouth and suck it, alright?”
Todd gives him a withering look and Dean just smiles. "Go on," the bastard says, "don't pretend you won't even if I insult you, not like that bird. I could call you a queer if I want, a cocksucker. Cause you are one, aren't you, Todd? Why don't you earn it already."
It's not that Dean's words don't sting, and it's not that Todd doesn't want to prove him wrong (at least about walking out), it's just that he's not sure he'll ever have the chance again. So he motions Dean's hand away with a nod of his head, buries his fingers in the warm, pressed fabric of Dean's tailored shirt, and licks his (rosy, he thinks) lips. Dean’s cock waves heavy and low and Todd only has to raise up a little to slide his lips over the head, teasing slowly and sucking luxuriantly, pleasure as vengeance. Dean coos something appreciative that might be "nice form" but Todd can hardly hear it for the rush of blood in his head, loud in his ears, and fucking aching in his cock. It's worse (better) still when warm fingers touch his face, surprising him.
"Bit more," Dean says softly, "there's a lad." His fingers leave Todd's face to wrap around his erection, offering Todd more, and Todd follows those fingers defiantly, past that line of lipstick, taking Dean in suddenly and deeply. Dean hisses sharply. He tastes slightly of expensive champagne and strawberries and Todd knows it's from the girl, so he sucks more wetly, backs off enough to swallow, trying to rinse the taste away, wanting only the taste of Dean. The weight and the thickness are perfect on his tongue, filling his mouth, and Todd hums, feeling drunk on the sensation. He fucking loves this, craves it, and Dean is right, of course, he’s a queer, a cocksucker – and a bloody good one, at that.
______
The kid's mouth is better than he thought, and there's nothing like a queer for sucking cock. You can’t buy that kind of genuine enthusiasm, and Lord knows he’s tried.
On the television screen, the big-breasted girl is on her knees too, her mouth similarly occupied. Dean takes a second to admire the angle of the shot – it was one of his best hiring decisions, getting that particular cameraman – before reaching between the sofa cushions to grab the remote control. The music and the moans coming out of the speakers are bit distracting, so Dean mutes the porno again. The wet sucking noises that Todd is making around his cock suddenly seem amplified tenfold in the silent room and it sounds filthier and grittier than any porn soundtrack.
Dean slides his fingers into Todd’s carefully coiffed hair, gripping tightly enough to pull at Todd’s scalp, and the lad moans loudly around Dean’s cock, his eyes snapping up to meet Dean’s gaze. He’s pretty enough, young Rivers, with his full lips and his shiny hair, and he’s popular on set, the girls like him. They might not like him as much if they saw him now, like this, on his knees with his mouth full and his eyes glazed over. But then, maybe they’d like him all the more for it – it certainly makes for a pleasing visual.
Dean tightens his grip in Todd’s hair to make him moan again, barely managing to suppress a groan of his own at the resulting vibrations. He smiles, his lips parted, and shifts his hips up a bit, driving his cock a bit deeper into Todd’s mouth. Todd just takes it, greedy and eager, swallowing around him, and fuck, it’s been too long since Dean’s had head like this – he almost regrets all those threesomes, all those wasted opportunities with ditzy girls who were worried about smearing their lipstick when he could’ve had Todd, who deepthroats like he was born to do it.
“My, you’re a natural, Todd,” Dean says, a bit breathless, a bit dizzy. “Never mind the –ah, there! Fuck. Never mind the acting, sucking cock is clearly your true calling.”
______
Todd wishes he wasn’t so fucking turned on by the praise but he is, so much, reveling in each word of encouragement, each twitch of Dean’s thigh under his clammy fingers, each ripple of Dean’s smooth stomach. Todd aches to touch himself, but he won’t allow himself the relief, not yet. He wants to make this the best blow job of Dean’s entire life. He wants to make sure that each time Dean looks at him from now on, he’ll remember this moment, remember how hard Todd made him come.
He pulls back a bit so he can suck on the head of Dean’s erection again, swirling his tongue to taste the pre-come there and eliciting a stuttered gasp from Dean. Emboldened by the sound and the increasingly erratic rhythm of Dean’s breathing, Todd reaches a hand in between Dean’s legs to cup his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers and Dean gasps, grips Todd’s hair tighter, rolls his hips and pushes Todd’s head down hard to take him deep again. Todd goes willingly, with a moan and what little smile he can manage with a mouth so full, slides his free hand back to Dean’s arse, plenty of room to get at it the way Dean’s lifting his hips to fuck his face now. It’s just this side of brutal and Todd loves it like this, with his mouth full one second, nose pressed into pubic hair, and near empty the next, cheeks hollowed out, and again, with Dean’s fingers tight in his hair, directing the pace.
This is so much more than he expected. So much better. The sounds Dean’s making throb like a bassline in his groin, and Todd wonders if could come just from the invisible caress of them if they did this long enough. So he’s almost sorry when Deans starts swearing breathlessly, aimlessly, “Jesus fuck, Todd, cunting Christ,” then seems to stop breathing altogether, cants his hips up hard enough to bump Todd’s nose a little too hard and Todd’s eyes water. He’s blinking and swallowing and groaning around Dean as Dean comes so deep in his throat Todd doesn’t even taste it. A shame, he thinks.
________
There’s funny shapes behind his eyes he’s got them closed so tight, and yet all Dean can see is the perfect vision of Todd’s mouth sliding down his shaft. He hasn’t come like that since… well since that hummer he got at the racetrack during a test run, but that had ended in tragedy and so it probably didn’t count. Apart from that, though, not since before he got into the business, when he was still a hopeful young buck, too optimistic and too trusting.
When he comes down from the high of it, it’s to the slightly uncomfortable sensation of Todd backing his mouth off of him, sucking at Dean’s head one last time, to taste him, Dean thinks, even as he hisses at the contact to over-sensitive skin. The girls never linger that way.
Dean’s still got a hand in Todd’s hair and there are fingers stroking hot against his backside when Todd sits back and looks up at him, half guilty, all need, mouth swollen and red at the corners. In spite of that, Dean can’t help but feel like the kid got the better of him, making him come so hard, carry on so foolishly. He smiles a little, then moves one hand to Todd’s mouth to trace those plump red lips.
“You loved, that, didn’t you? This must be getting you so hard, Todd, the proverbial oaken staff, eh? You must be soaking your knickers wanting it. Maybe next time we’ll invite that Monkey Boy you liked so much.”
Todd backs away as if he’s been burned, eyes narrowing, “How the fuck do you—”
“I can assure you, Todd, if anything worth knowing happens on set, it finds its way to my ears sooner or later.”
Dean had been holding on to that bit of information for a while now, about the time he’d caught a glimpse of the Monkey Boy and Todd sucking face, with their hands in each other’s hair and down each other’s trousers behind Dean’s garage. One never knows when these tidbits of information will come in handy, and it was worth keeping that one to pull it out now, if only to extinguish the smug glint in Todd’s eyes.
Now that he feels like he’s back in charge, Dean feels better about leaning back against the sofa and pulling his trousers up, tucking himself in. Todd’s looking at him like he’s not sure whether he should be angry about how Dean is toying with him, or further aroused by the prospect of a repeat performance.
“You’re a fucking rat bastard, Dean, you know that,” Todd says in a tight voice, pushing himself to his feet.
The former, then. Todd’s even beginning to pull his trousers up, like he’s actually intending to walk out of the room with a throbbing erection concealed in his pants, and Dean feels something a bit like regret. A bit like pity. So instead of laughing, he grabs Todd’s wrist and gives it a slight tug.
“Oh, don’t sulk, Rivers. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Are we?”
“Of course we are. Let’s not let a little blow job between mates ruin a long-lasting friendship. Sit down.”
Todd’s still frowning, but it’s easy enough to guide him back to the sofa so they’re sitting side by side, thighs touching. He won’t meet Dean’s eyes anymore, fixating instead on the television, watching it with a blank expression. Dean knows that this scene involves two girls in schoolgirl outfits, but he’s not really paying attention to that. He’s seen it all before. But he’s never seen Todd quite like this, with his lips parted and his hands twitching by his sides, his cock heavy and damp with precome against his stomach. He looks on the verge of self-combustion but he’s waiting for… what? For permission? For Dean to blow him in return?
Dean’s not willing to reciprocate quite to that extent, but he can and does take Todd’s hand, clammy and tense, and direct it to Todd’s straining erection, encouraging, dictating the rhythm. Todd’s eyes slide shut with a groan that’s almost a sob, his head falling forward. “That’s it, that’ll make you feel better,” Dean says softly, withdraws his hand and rests it instead against Todd’s thigh, a little offering.
Dean leans back against the cushions, returning his attention to the porno on screen. He turns the volume back up so he has something else to focus on other than the sounds of Todd wanking off next to him, and gives Todd’s thigh a little pat and a slow, steady rub with his thumb.
_________
Dean’s hand on Todd’s thigh burns like fire and feels heavy and huge with his eyes closed, concentrating on that little contact. They’ve touched more than this while fucking one of Dean’s girls but somehow this, that hand so near his dick—harder than he’s ever been in his life, he’s sure of it—is so much more intimate than a shared fuck, than passing glittering, smug grins over a smooth shoulder and blonde hair.
“I feel sorry for you, Todd, that I don’t suck cock,” Dean says in that soft tone of his that goes a little deeper than his usual speaking voice and Todd can’t help but lean into it. “Not to say I haven’t before, mind.” The hand on his thigh inches higher, teasing, tickling lightly and Todd’s so close. “You don’t get to where I am in this business…” So goddamned close that a moan catches in his throat and he throws his head back as Dean’s long fingers squeeze at his thigh. “…without a bit of spunk on your face now and then.”
That clinches it. Todd’s orgasm hits him like a wave and he’s shouting, undignified and unrestrained as he comes over his own hand, stomach and shirt, with such a flood of relief it’s like being caught from a near deathfall and yet falling anyway, all at once. The girl on screen is shouting too, a couple of octaves higher but it still makes Todd feel a bit foolish as he tries to catch his breath and Dean pats his leg again, sort of friendly and says, “See? That’s the medicine. Feeling better already, aren’t we?”
Todd turns to him, head lolling on the couch, mouth dry and useless, to see Dean smiling and smoking that damned cigar once again, looking smug and energetic and fucking perfect. He tries to give Dean a disgusted look but it feel more like adoration and Dean just winks at him, nudges Todd’s shoulder with his own.
“I’m feeling like a drink, Todd. How ‘bout you? Gin? Whiskey? Or maybe after that, you’re more in the mood for a cocktail.” He laughs at his own joke, sounding pleased, and with that he stands, adjusts himself somewhat elaborately in his trousers, then practically dances off to the bar to fix them both a drink.
“Just a beer, thanks.” Todd hates that he watches that pinstriped arse as he tucks himself away. As a consolation, he pulls the handkerchief from Dean’s coat to clean the ejaculate from his stomach and shirt, then stuffs it back into Dean’s coat pocket before Dean comes back with their drinks.
Then, really, it’s like any other time they’ve sat on Dean’s sofa sharing drinks, watching porn or discussing business. Still, even the beer he’s gulping can’t quite erase the sense memory of having just had Dean’s cock in his mouth.
For Dean, though, it seems to be business as usual. Todd is only half-listening as Dean gives director’s commentary on the film that’s still strobing garishly on the television screen. He tries to ignore the sick feeling growing in his stomach.
When he finally gathers up the courage to leave, Dean accompanies him to the door and leans against the door jamb, watching Todd put his coat on. Dean’s shirt is still open and there’s lipstick smeared near his collarbone, but he seems unaffected, perfectly at ease. Clearly it takes more than a one-off blow job from a male colleague to ruffle Dean Fucking Learner.
That’s it, then, Todd thinks, that’s the end of that – but as he’s about to walk out the door Dean surprises him with a touch on the shoulder and a quirked smile.
“Drop by next weekend, Rivers. Maybe I’ll have someone here that’s more to your tastes, next time. Maybe we’ll make it into a little party.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean.” But just looking at him there, all long and lean, with his lazy smile and his dark, knowing eyes, Todd already knows he’ll be there.
“Well, you know where I live, should you change your mind. See you tomorrow, Todd.”
