Chapter 2

Colby clung to Jason. To his own joy. To that marvelous body, all of Jason, which made him tingle with desire. At least Jason was also hard; no one said anything about it, either because Jill was feeling tactful or because everyone was aware that, well, physical reactions did happen.

Besides, they’d look impressively convincing on camera.

The motions flowed together; the desires flowed together. They moved naturally, easily, as if anticipating each other’s movements. The dialogue worked.

More rolling over, shifting, Jason atop him. Jason settling between his legs, using that stunt-man’s knowledge of bodies to take most of his own weight in ways the camera wouldn’t notice. Colby smiled, rubbing a foot along Jason’s calf.

They had to do more. Simulated thrusts, new angles, more intimate and more passionate. Jason took a deep breath and got up on both knees; Colby said softly, “We’re still fine,” as much for himself as for Jason, and moved to hands and knees. Jason got behind him, brought their hips together, simulated fucking him: hard and deep, plunging into Will’s no-longer-virgin body. Colby moaned for the camera and clutched at sheets and let his mouth fall open in ecstasy.

Acting, and not. It wasn’t real, but it was. He had to think about visibility and close-ups and how they’d look for an audience, and the sex wasn’t happening as such, and the climax was pure showmanship. But the quivering, the heat, the gasps he couldn’t hold back at the feeling of Jason’s body and hands: those were true.

They rolled around some more. Lots of flashes of skin. A few pauses for adjustments, sound and lighting and camera. Jill only had Brian filming, which Colby appreciated—fewer eyes, and friendly ones—but that meant some delays for discussion and multiple angles.

The night got warmer. Possibly because of the heaters. Colby rather thought it had more to do with Jason. With those big cautious hands and that low voice, telling him before any drastic movements or spontaneous ideas about touching.

So much touching. Hips, thighs, chest, face. Skin to skin. Kisses, scattered across them both. Jason asked before bending to kiss Colby’s hip. Colby nodded.

More footage. Dream-washed and richly colored. Topaz light caught in Jason’s hair, and ran along Jason’s back like water. The rain rippled and ribboned down old glass windowpanes around them.

They moved again. Colby ended up on his back; Jason murmured, “I’m going to get on top of you, stop me if it doesn’t feel good,” and did exactly that: settling between Colby’s spread thighs, letting the camera capture legs and hips, Jason’s backside, thrusting.

Colby’s head spun. Real, and not—and those motions, Jason rocking against him, atop him—

And they were both here together, both wanting this, and that waswant, that was undeniable—

But abruptly something wasn’t right. He didn’t even know why. The tipping-point arrived without warning: the near-naked weight on him became too much, or Jason moved at the wrong angle, or the pressure of Jason’s arousal against Colby’s own was too shocking, too intense—

If Jason stripped away the last bit of modesty cloth and pushed harder, the way he already was, with Colby’s legs spread and Colby’s body up against that massive shaft—it’d be too easy, and the awful part was that Colby wanted it, would eagerly invite the invasion, because it was Jason; but that was frightening, because it was too new and too soon and if Jason did anything like that it’d hurt so badly—

But they were filming, and Jason wouldn’t—

In any case Jason wouldn’t do that without asking, he knew that, he knew—

“Wait,” he whispered. Or he tried to; no sound came out. Jason was kissing his throat, head bowed, Stephen theoretically enjoying Will’s response.

Colby found himself shaking. “Jason—wait, wait, I—words—” Oh God, what werethe words for—“Yellow. Red. Something. I can’t.”

Jason had frozen at the first audible wait, and now threw himself up and away, across the mattress.

Colby fought down a sob, grabbed a pillow, and hid in it, trembling.

“Colby,” Jason whispered, horrified. Not touching him. “What—what did I—no, I know, I know what I did. What can I do? To help? Please.”

“Colby?” A different voice. Jillian. A dip on the side of the bed as she sat. “Oh, God, Colby, I’m sorry. Just don’t move for a minute, just breathe, you’re okay, okay?” To someone else—probably Andy—she added, “Someone get some water, and an extra blanket, please?”

“God.” Jason’s voice cracked. “Colby, I—Jill, what can I do? Please tell me what he needs.”

“He mostly needs us to not do much.” Jill touched the pillow. “Colby, I’m going to cover you up, okay? Keep you warm? Can I touch you enough for that?” The blanket folded around him.