Chris is edgy, not talking as much as usual, and the look in his eyes different to normal. David realises that he’s staring and shifts his gaze, sliding his fingers up and down the cold glass of beer.
It’s very phallic.
He stops immediately.
“We gonna play football this weekend?” he asks as a distraction from the blush that is rising.
“What about your knee? And your wife?” Chris laughs, but his eyes still hold that hint of not-quite-thereness.
“Jaime’s away with Jaden. You could come over and watch a game on TV?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure if I have plans though.”
Chris looks preoccupied again and David wants to know what he's thinking about. They bonded a few years ago over a shared love of beer, sports and big-breasted women. Maybe Chris feels uncomfortable that Dave has settled down and started a family with one of those girls that used to be labelled ‘Fun only.’
‘Come on, Chris,’ David wants to say, 'Come back home and we’ll get stoned and eat pizza and watch porn.’
He wants to say it but he can’t because there’s a whole shit-load of stuff in the way now –- like wives and kids and resentment and something else that needles at the back of David’s mind. “You getting on okay with Marsters?”
“Yeah, he’s friendly enough.”
David nods as the conversation dies yet again. He’d really wanted to hate Marsters for coming into his show and being the shiny new toy. He hadn't had much to do with him when they worked together on the other series and he doesn’t have much to do with him here, but he can’t hate him. Marsters is different to his public persona: quiet, kind of self-absorbed. Intense is the best word to describe him.
David wonders for a moment if he could be friends with James then dismisses the idea immediately. What could they possibly have in common? He can’t really imagine them bonding together over a non-shared love of Shakespeare,Tom Waits and left wing politics.
He looks at Chris and sees that his friend is disappearing again, blankness replaced by a liquidity that spills across the younger man’s face as he thinks about whatever is keeping him away from boys’ nights outs and tag-teaming girls.
“Pool?” asks David and Chris nods energetically like he's relieved for the excuse to escape this forced conversation.
They shoot a couple of games, drink a couple more beers, talk about the ratings and make sure never to mention the uncertain future. Then Chris gives him a hug, pats him on the back and says goodnight.
David is left feeling uncertain of his friendship, never mind the future. He drinks more beer and feels startlingly bereft.
~~****~~
The next day at the studio, David is quiet. He watches the interaction between everyone and sees things differently. Chris and James are laughing--always laughing together--and it hurts.
David feels like a pre-schooler. He wants to run up to them and shout ‘Play with me.’ He wants to know what he’s done wrong and to stop feeling like a damn outsider.
The day seems long and tiring. His joints ache and his head throbs with all the lines he’s trying to learn and he wants nothing more than to sink into the tub and soak away his unhappiness.
Climbing into his car David stretches himself into the seat. He really needs to unwind. His muscles are taut and painful and he wonders why he seems to be shooting more and more of the action scenes instead of less and less. He's about to put the key in the ignition when he sees Chris and James disappearing into one of the trailers. James has his guitar case clutched to him like a baby and David smiles. At least he has real people in his life, not just a piece of wood with some strings attached.
Dave wills himself to drive away from this place, back to his house and his son and his beautiful wife. He can’t waste this early finish. But for some reason he sits a little while longer.
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in an anticipatory rhythm, he picks up his cell phone and calls home.
“Sorry, honey, another late finish. Kiss Jaden for me.”
The conversation is short and not so sweet--a bit like all their conversations recently-- and after he hangs up David sighs and climbs out of the car.
Pathetic is what he is. Ten years old and sneaking up to where the older kids are messing around. Listening to them talk about girls and drugs and that unknown thing that is sex. Watching them drinking and passing round a joint and measuring their dicks. Peering at them through the branches as it gets dark and they get out a worn copy of Penthouse and circle jerk over a two year old centerfold who’s well worn with use..
Of course, later on he had his own circle of loud, obnoxious dope-smoking friends, but that’s not what matters here. What matters is that he’s that ten year old misfit all over again and he wants to watch the big boys play.
David can hear the music as he approaches the trailer. He hates to admit it, but even to his pitch-deficient ears they sound good. They blend prettily.
He’s waited so long in the car that the sky is beginning to darken with the onset of night and he nods to a security guard who’s making his rounds. The guy won’t be checking out the lot again for a good couple of hours. They get paid shit so they do shit and who can blame them. Suits David just fine, gives him plenty of time to skulk around.
What is wrong with him?
He approaches the trailer and stands in the shadows. The nearside blinds are closed and he groans audibly in annoyance then muffles the sound with a hand. Stealthily, he creeps around to the back and sidles along the concrete wall. The room is illuminated and he sees them for the first time.He watches.
The two men laugh and smoke and drink down Red Bull and beer. Even when they’re not playing, their fingers caress the bodies of those instruments, stroking and plucking, brushing notes from them.
David can never be a part of this. He’ll never belong.
The two men play for serious now, grinding out a song over and over again ‘til they get it right, and when they do David can almost taste the thrum of excitement in the air. The music binds them, makes them all powerful, makes them belong to each other.
He tries to walk away but there is something compelling about the vista. He wants to drown in them for just a little while longer. The sky has darkened down to a murky indigo. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t for the glare of the city. David feels safer now in his poorly lit vantage point but more alone than ever before.
He listens to the beautiful music made by beautiful people and today he doesn’t feel like one of the elite. Today he feels ordinary.
He realises that he’s been staring at his feet for the last few minutes, a habit from when he was young and unsure of himself. The laughter makes him look up and he watches as Chris grins at James and throws him a can of soda. David can pick out the odd mocking word and he feels a deep seated hunger for his friend to jeer at him the way he used to -- once upon a time before he found ‘cooler’ people to hang out with.
All of a sudden the laughs and cheerful banter end and David looks up from the ground again.
And then he sees.
And he feels like he’s in a car wreck.
And everything that he’s known for years has all been a lie
Chris presses up close against Marsters and leans in, licking at his lips. The kissing is building from gentle teasing nips to hungry open-mouthed exploration, finally evolving into fierce male need and David doesn’t know if he can actually see everything that clearly or if he just knows.
He’s never wanted to be a voyeur since those days in the woods when he was a kid but now those ten-year-old instincts take over and he moves closer. He wants to hear the sucking of lips and the slapping of bodies and most of all he wants to see what it looks like.
He should be disgusted but he isn’t. He should allow them some privacy but he can’t.
David watches as they free each other from the restriction of clothing and stand naked and proud, dark versus light, slim versus stocky. If forced to chose, he wouldn’t know which man to pick.
He’d have them both.
These thoughts are frightening. David’s never been aroused by another male body but the blatant naked desire he sees turns him on fiercely. He feels the blood surge to his cock and resists the urge to touch himself, leaning his head against the metal exterior of the trailer and listening in at the open window.
“Want me?”
“God, yes. Been thinking about you all day.”
“Well, have me then.”
David peers into the window then darts back as James pushes Chris onto the couch and straddles his thighs. Christian’s back is almost resting against the glass. David can hear the animal moans and muffled cries as the two men suck at each others’ mouths. David imagines the wet pink tongue, that James likes to show off so much, darting in and out of his friend’s mouth and he finds that he has forgotten to breathe. He gulps in some air and rubs at his straining cock.
It's impossible to decipher the hushed whispers. James’s eyes are bright with promises and David wonders what it would feel like to have such a pretty man look at him in that way.
James kneels up and David gets a perfect view of his cock. It’s a nice looking prick, cut and dripping with pre-cum. James wipes a dribble of fluid onto his fingers and offers it to Chris who sucks hungrily at the digit until it’s clean then spits into James’s open palm. “Jerk yourself for me. Gimme a show.”
David has never heard Chris speak in this low, throaty sex voice even when they’ve been sharing a girl. Was he ever listening to his friend at those moments or was he too interested in his own pleasure?
He watches James pulling at his cock with long fluid strokes then slides his hand inside the waistband of his pants and reaches for his own erection, trying to move to the same rhythm as the other man. Frustrated he opens his pants, pulling them down slightly and tearing at the silk of the boxers. The ripping sound is quiet but it arouses him even more to think that he’s torn away his own clothing so he can jerk off in public. He must remember to throw them away before Jaime finds them.
He squeezes his prick tightly, falling into the rhythm of the hand fuck as if he were used to watching another guy masturbate.
He could get used to it.
As James dives in for more of those slick, heavy kisses, David flicks his own tongue out, mimicking the dart of that wriggling organ and he breathes heavily, wanting to be James, wanting to have James.
Wanting James to come all over his face, not Chris’s.
His hand is sticky and there are spatters of semen on his shoes. He doesn’t remember the orgasm even though his legs are trembling from the intensity of the rush.
He watches James clean the spunk from Chris’s face with long languid licks wearing the grin of the cat who ate the cream. Then there are more of those wet, hungry kisses and David is lost to the tableau once again.
Chris stands and laughingly pushes James to his knees. “I dreamt about this last night,” he drawls.
“Good?” grins James, in between placing little soft kisses to the tip of Chris’s twitching cock.
“I haven’t had sticky sheets since I was fourteen.”
They laugh and David thinks about the faraway look in Chris’s eyes and knows that this is what he was thinking about all night at the bar. When they were playing pool was he mentally bending Marsters over the table and rubbing his cock up against him? Was he hard at the thought of this blow job all the time they were sat drinking beer?
“Suck me, Jay.”
“Oh it’s Jay now is it? I’m getting smaller.”
Chris rolls his eyes and grins. James deep-throats his cock and the look of amusement is replaced by one of ecstasy.
David watches the blond head work that shaft in and out of his mouth and can’t decide whether he envies the sex or the camaraderie more. Is it always like this between two men? Does the intimate knowledge of one’s own body turn a fuck with another guy into this relaxed languorous pleasuring?
He wants to know the answers.
Edging closer to the window David stares as Chris rubs his erection over James’ face. He hears the sighs and looks down at his own cock hardly even aware that he's been stroking it; that it had remained hard and needy in his fist. He pumps his hips and gives in, forcing the swollen head in and out of the tight ring of his finger and thumb.
So damn good but it could be better.
James is working hard now, swallowing that cock then laving the shaft with soft swipes of his tongue, then sucking hard until Chris screams.
David thinks James is finger-fucking Chris. The look of surprised wonder on the dark-haired man’s face tells it all. His own prostate throbs with need and he manages to stimulate it just enough by pressing his fingertips against the perineum.
He’s almost crying out now as he rubs his hard on frantically and pushes down with his other hand. His whole lower body is jerking now as he fucks his fist more viciously than he’s ever done in his life.
Chris holds James’s head in place and thrusts his cock into that open mouth. “Oh fuck, Jamie,” he moans, pumping his spunk down the blond man’s throat.
David hitches in a breath and climaxes.
This one he notices.
This one he enjoys -- a little too much maybe.
~~****~~
David takes flowers home for his wife, and later, when he pushes her down to kneel at his feet, he imagines himself in a different place altogether.
“Oh fuck, Jamie,” he screams as he pumps his spunk down her throat.
DONE