Emery Yan @sweetemery - Tumblr Blog

allenxhill:

Allen wasn’t even supposed to be on the studio right now. He should be cutting the footage from a new scene, but apparently that got delayed. Someone — way above his paygrade — was reviewing it, and he had to be on standby to work on it as fast as he could, whenever it became available. So he wandered around the building, checking the shootings (too much for his taste), so he ended up on the photography studios. Much more tasteful. He didn’t exactly know Emery as much as he had seen his face (and ass) all over Vortex’s website. And he was even hotter right in front of him.

So when he asked for a volunteer, Allen decided that fuck it, he was going to do it. “No face?” He asked, raising his hand, clearly interested in the job. “I think I can pull it off.”

Relief washed over him. Thankfully, he could prove that his idea was a superb one. He wanted a chance to prove that he was capable of providing more than just looking good or sitting pretty- all of which he excelled and exceeded. He smiled. Emery wasn’t exactly sure to what degree Allen would contribute, but as long as he was willing to at least use the idea, he’d do wonderful. Emery tried not to focus too heavily on how attractive Allen was. That probably would prove a little more difficult outside of focus. “Mm. Even nice hands. I’d say luck is ever-changing.” Emery tried not to give too much to the moment. Any more attention and he’d probably give off too much intrigue.

“So. Here’s what I’m thinking. I still need for you to sit, but I’m going to mount your lap. I need your legs at least your shoulder width so when I straddle you, there’s going to be enough space to spread but not open all the way. Give the men a little taste, not the full meal. We’ll hold that for about fifteen to twenty seconds. We’ll move on to you palming the side of my hip, thigh, and ass. Grip shifts just enough to pull cheeks, but not enough to give them all. Twenty seconds. We’ll go on to you; however you choose, either pulling or wrapping the waistband of the thong just enough to have a little hole, but still just a tease.” He laughed. “That was a lot, but it is very organic and smooth. I think you’ve probably got plenty of experience. I might need to angle myself, so we’re basically body-to-body, and you may have a nipple close. Do I need to have an awkward conversation with any significant other before we start? Still faceless as my back is going to cover you entirely from this angle.”

#allenxhill

onmybreath:

With a quiet sigh from his nostrils, Holden walked over and simply blinked at Emery. “What’s going on?” His attention quickly shifted to the temp, and he shooed them away quickly as they rushed the dusting of Emery’s face and stepped away. Holden’s eyes quickly returned to the model, and the man frowned. “Performance anxiety?” he asked with an identifiable Caucasian simper. Holden had photographed and filmed plenty of POV videos for Vortex in his time with the company. It involved him without pants, but with the rest of his clothes worn, legs propped up on the model’s shoulders, filming as the dude simulated fucking him. It was pretty odd the first few times, but he did whatever he needed for the scene - short of stripping completely naked, obviously. With an overt sigh he quickly added, “You’re attractive, and more than charismatic enough to pull off a solo scene doin’ whatever ya want. But if that’s not gonna work for ya, I’m sure they’ll work something out with you.”

Emery was quiet. It really wasn’t positive or negative. It only seemed to inherit some sort of mood when he was void of expression. It meant he was in his head. He mulled it over. Seven times seven. Performance anxiety? Did he really think Emery was suffering a lapse of ability? It took all of that to have a lone brow shift and his hands to root at this hip. “You should know well enough that I don’t have a nervous bone in my body especially when I’m being photographed.” Photographers all had their different angles, but the art was the most important product. As the talent, he also had an idea of what the people wanted. No. Emery didn’t engage in sex on set but he at least wanted to be the essence of it. “I thought we were doing a shoot for my gallery and some social media posts. The theme did say intimacy. There should be at least four or five pictures of another set of hands on my hip or thigh with a nice, tasteful peek at an ass cheek. Maybe someone else fucked up and didn’t book the second model. Now that is a conversation I’d like to have.”

#onmybreath

seb-miller:

Blinking a little, Sebastian wasn’t sure why the other asked if he had a foot fetish. Though when he asserted that with the model taking the lead there was no one to fuck this shoot up. Nodding when he was asked if he was on of the writers, he couldn’t help but smile when the other mentioned his lack of experiance…..well he wasn’t wrong. Biting his lip as he considered everything, before finally nodding his head. “Yeah….yeah ok.” Sebastian had thought about it plenty of times, being on the other side of the camera that was, and this was his chance to do just that, and if no one knew it was him well then…..it wouldn’t hurt. “Just uhhh, just show me where to sit and what do to….stud.” Sebastian wasn’t sure why he through the last word in…but it felt right since the model used it first.

Emery felt a sense of calm sweep over him. Those who’d already finished for the day bid the rest of the crew a farewell. Emery acknowledges, but allows his focus to remain trained on Sebastian. Emery was obviously under dressed with the thin thong that was almost a shade lighter than his own body. It made it easier to adapt or filter the photos to match the theme or gradient. Wasn’t his decision, but there he was. He took Seb by the hand and led them to the stage where he shifts to stand directly in front of the camera. “Here is fine. It’s okay to have your hips a little forward.” He knew it was probably about to get a little heavier for Sebastian, but there was nothing a little charm wouldn’t solve. “Thank you for offering some assistance.” Emery may have omitted a few details. Those were easy to resolve. It was just a matter of getting him in place. “Ready?”

#seb-miller

Mainstream crossover. I’ll show a little ass but it’s nice when they just want you cause you look good.

#sweetness from the fingertips:: photos;;

#like dew from melon | body claims;;

brockcoleman:

Ever since that tense exchange with Emery earlier, Brock couldn’t get the porn star out of his head. The way he sauntered around set with that sexy body of his, without a care in the world as it seemed… he knew what he was doing. He was trying to bait Brock into a sexual encounter. Not that it would have been very hard to do. Brock didn’t need to be asked twice about messing around with Emery if given the opportunity — a pertinent fact he was reminded of when he watched Emery slip into his office, now (sadly) wearing more clothing than before.

“Emery. Good to see you again,” he says, forcing himself to work through his intense physical attraction to sound professional. “How was the shoot, then?”

It was the sound of his voice that probably broke him from his wandering attention and made him focus. Emery’s eyes settled on Brock. He gazes to the side as he enters the office and the door is locked behind him just in case. “It was exhausting. Modeling for shoots are different when it’s strictly porn because I don’t get to focus on just the pretty. They want me to be a performer and hold these difficult positions. So I might have a muscle or two out of place.” Emery grinned over at Brock. He slips in close. Dangerously close. Fingers surfed behind his back. He got a generous feel of his shoulder blades. His back. They ran a gratuitous path down to his lower back. All men deserved to be worshipped in one way or another. Emery’s fingers led as he pulls free and finds himself slipping onto the examination table. He spins quick. Perching just at the edge having to arch to keep himself comfortable.

“Where do we begin, Doc?” There wasn’t an ounce of pretense. Just how Emery watched Brock, the man could probably guess he wanted to fuck. Question is, how ready was the other. He bites his bottom lip. Legs swinging to either side as he invites Brock to invade his personal space.

#brockcoleman

seb-miller:

Sebastian had to run to a photoshoot set to get information from one of the producers on what exactly the models had been wearing so that he could properly talk about it in the accompanying written word for said photos, when it seemed they became short staffed on said shoot set, and they needed a pair of hands, and legs. Looking around, he wasn’t sure if the scantly dressed man was talking to him to be those possible hands and legs. Feeling a slight redness coming to his face, as he looked the other man over, and chuckled a little. “I….I don’t if I’m the person you want for this.” Running his tongue over his top lip as he tried to keep his eyes down at his feet. “I don’t…..I don’t know anything about this whole modeling thing. If anyone could find a way to mess this up, it’d probably be me.”

“Do you have a foot fetish or someth--nevermind that.” Emery was grasping at straws. Any straws. The director wanted to achieve a level of carnal desire, but that wasn’t exactly something that could be shot with one person and be as effective as the power of two. Emery had one shot and one shot only. The task was really simple. The man didn’t even have to strip down or even reveal his face. He just needed to be in place. “Not with me taking lead you can’t fuck this up.” Emery tried to place him. “You’re one of the Writers, right? I know you’ve got a little bit of stage fright and lack of experience. But trust me on this. It’s golden. If you get a little anxious, I’ll be within hands’ reach. You get nervous, there’s a few things you’re going to be holding on to.” Emery directs his attention to the darker, mood lit stage. “All you’ve gotta do is take a seat and let me put us in place. Trust me, stud, I wouldn’t sabotage a shoot or your reputation. I smell fucking divine too, so that’s always a plus.”

#seb-miller

#like dew from melon | body claims;;

declan-hughes:

Emery was such a tease but Declan found his flirtation to be quite complimentary. Sure, their conversations were always pleasant, stimulating even. But he couldn’t deny the sexual tension between them. An astronaut could see it from space. Declan noticed how Emory placed his sling-pack down without hesitation and it made his lips curl up into a subtle smirk, amused by the man’s assertiveness. “How thoughtful of you, Em”, Dec replied, offering the other a friendly smile. “Yeah, sure! I’ll take both. Thank you. You uh, you remembered huh? Or are we looking mere coincidence here?” Declan often found himself deprived of basic human needs when he was working. It took far too much brain power just to keep him focused on the job at hand, let alone remember to eat and drink. He could’ve sworn this tidbit had come up in conversation before.

“They’re yours. You just have to dig in the bag and get them.” Emery’s brow shifts as he listened to the man. Thoughful? Periodically. To say he remembered the man’s habit might’ve held very small validity. With their status as a Studio, it was always pressure to perform across the board. Right now, it was a friend who needed a moment to recollect himself. Emery’s fingers pressed the muscles, drawing smooth motions to ease bundles of tension and provide a sense of relaxation. What was intended to be his curiosity exploration turned into reduction of stress. Anything for Declan. “Do you want the truth?” He snickered. “I figured you hadn’t eaten because I saw the posted scheduling and knew it was hell.” His chest hovering just over Declan’s crown. “Am I putting you behind schedule?” Emery’s hands slide down to Declan’s broad shoulders. He gently kneaded them, rolling his arms at the joints.

#declan-hughes

#like dew from melon | body claims;;

When you’re engaged in the Live Feeds.

#like dew from melon | body claims;;

brockcoleman:

Brock knew Emery to be a flirtatious, even seductive, fellow on and off the set. It seemed like the man couldn’t help it. Something about his was mysterious, almost as though he were some supernatural entity. If anything, that perky little ass of his seemed like it possessed magical ability…

His eyes watch like a hawk as Emery fondles his collar and pops a button on his shirt, revealing just a hint of the tanned muscle beneath, with some of his chest tattoo peeking through. “If it’s a physical exam you think you need,” begins Brock, his eyes now connecting with Emery’s, “then I we can arrange a private meeting in my office when you’re done here. Just to make sure your body is healthy.”

“Then it’s settled.” There weren’t many exchanges that needed to be made. The final look said it all. A twinkle or a hint of taunting was like a glint in the eye. It was his chance. The moment he turned to take his place on set, there was nothing to distract Brock from rolling eyes from head to feet. He didn’t even need to exaggerate in terms of ass. The way he walked was quite confident. There was something about the way his tapering in at the waist to the span of his hips. The sway seemed to concentrate in how natural the beautiful juicy ass just comes to life. Muscle flexed beneath the trained shape. He didn’t need to confirm. He knew they were watching it. --Time Passes--

Emery gives a round of several knocks before he’d even think about stepping into his office. He freshened up so there wasn’t that underlying scent of baby powder or the generic “fresh”. Track pants and a tank top were the on-set choice of attire after a day-long shoot. He leans against the door frame. “Doc’s orders.” He smears a generous dotting of lip balm to keep them nice, soft, and succulent.

#brockcoleman

#like dew from melon | body claims;;

declan-hughes:

Declan preferred to work from home but he did find himself utilizing his office at the studio on occasion. The biggest downside of working out of the studio was that anyone could interrupt him at any time and he couldn’t exactly ignore someone when they were standing right in front of him. He was going over a script, drawing up a vision board when he heard a gentle knock on his door. “Yeah? Come on in”, he sighed, pressing himself back into his desk chair and using his fists to rub his tired eyes. “You can take a seat if you’d like”, he offered, gesturing toward the leather chair that sat opposite his desk. “Thanks for stoppin’ in. I desperately needed a break. So, what’s up? What can I do ya’ for?”

Fortunately, the two men would never really see the same set. That is without consideration of crossover projects or promotional material that needed to be branded according to the more recent films. Sometimes he provided a leg or cropped images to entice instead of advertise as if he were in the flick. The door cracks with him slowly stepping into the office space. He initially wasn’t going to mention it. One glance, and he could already tell the overwhelming sense of restlessness. He looked at the chair that was offered and chuckled. “I could.” But he wasn’t. Emery steps toward his chair. His sling-pack placed just to the right of his desk. His hands find the bulk of his upper traps. He slowly works his thumb in. It runs from index to pinky, respectful to side. “Just coming to visit. Being nosy. I’ve got a Quest cookie and a bottle of alkaline water if you want either or both.”

#declan-hughes

brockcoleman:

“Planning on staying around for as long as they’re shooting today, yes,” Brock says simply, watching as yet another piece of clothing —if a harness could be considered that— was removed from Emery’s incredible body. He would’ve been lying if he said he’d never jerked off to the younger man’s pictures before; they were the sort of thing that made little boys realize they were gay. In Brock’s case, he was very much certain of that, so if anything Emery was just a decent reminder.

Brock’s eyes travel to Emery’s erect nipples, like targets on his body for others to direct their attention towards. “Can’t say I’ve ever considered it, no. Stage fright. I prefer to get busy in private. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned that way…”

Emery tried to read him. His eyes narrow slightly as if honing in. He studies the man for a few moments before furrowing a brow. He wanted to toy with the beautiful man for a few more moments before he’d retract from the Brock’s presence. He pursed his lips. His head ticks slowly. He gingerly plays with Brock’s collar. He might’ve popped a button or all of them, opening the fabric to reveal that heft set of pecs beneath. Pretends to not notice. A finger swipes down the bulk. He easily passes it off as just conversation. With the way he positioned himself, no one could see anyways.

“Hmm. As long as your capable of performing in the heat of the moment. Swell in the thick of it.” He grins. “I might need more of a physical exam. Would you be available after?”

#brockcoleman

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