Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FINN
I’m trying to act like this is a fine, everyday thing to happen to me when Curtis leads me into his bedroom. As in, the room where I’ve watched Gunner too many times to count. I can’t stop studying every detail like I’ve been dumped into a movie set.
“This is my setup,” he says, pointing to a desk in the corner with two large monitors over the top of it.
“The bigger the screen, the better I can assess quality and make adjustments. Some of the other creators I’ve spoken to have a production team for this, but I prefer control of it myself.
It’s why I generally don’t put out a video every day.
” He throws me a stunning smile. “That, and I don’t want to pull my dick off. ”
I’m hovering on the periphery of his room, and I watch as Curtis pulls an ottoman over next to his desk chair. There has to be a way to avoid this. All I need is one simple excuse to get out of the mortification of watching my dick on-screen—or worse, of getting hard and finally pouncing on him.
After what I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s solidly off the table.
Then again, we’re about to watch porn together. Our porn, sure, but that possibly makes it worse. The entire time I sit here, I’ll be watching all the glorious features he has hidden beneath his clothes, and for the first time since I started watching him, all those things are within grasp.
I can’t do this.
Curtis catches my eyes, gaze steady and challenging, and pats the stool beside him. “You’re not going to see much over there.”
I take a step forward, like I’m being led to my execution, and then Curtis reminds me why I like him—him, not Gunner—so much.
“If this makes you uncomfortable or you don’t want to do it, that’s okay. Say so. If you’re nervous and want some gentle pressure, I can do that too. Your call.”
The permission to be nervous unlocks every last shred of confidence I have left. There’s something about Curtis that feels safe, and while I had a wayward thought about this all being a plot for revenge porn, I know him better than that. If I ask him to delete it, he’ll do it, no question.
I lower myself onto the stool. “This is going to be weird for me. I’m just putting that out there.”
“I get it. I was the same when I first started, and I think I’ve become desensitized to it now. Like, it doesn’t even occur to me that it’s something people view as weird or strange. It’s just a job.”
“I wouldn’t call it just a job. You’ve found your niche with it. I know people think porn is easy money, but with how much there is available for free and how many creators there are, you need to be doing something special to have the kind of following you do.”
Curtis taps his fingers on the edge of the desk.
“That’s … true. Sometimes I think I’m immune to the criticisms, then I catch myself thinking of this as a temporary job.
A stepping stone to what I really want and not a ‘real’ career, you know?
Which is bullshit, so I don’t know why I think that way sometimes. ”
“I’m glad you know it’s bullshit.”
“Yeah … then the flip side to that is worrying that my content will get stale. That it will all go away, and everything I’ve built will disappear.”
I don’t understand how he can look at the following he has and believe that, but I guess when you have something special, it’d be a natural fear to lose it. “For whatever my opinion is worth, your content hasn’t once gotten stale.”
“Thanks.” He nods to the screen, and for a moment, I completely forgot what I was doing here. “If we end up posting this, I think I can forget about going stale for a while.”
My face grows hot, and when he opens up our recording, seeing my full cock and balls close up on the screen has me begging the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Curtis glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re a grown man, Finn. You can handle talking about dicks, buttholes, and balls, I promise.”
“Of course I can.”
“Then why did you go so pale?”
I give in to the urge to bury my face in my hands. “Because I’m lying, and maybe I really can’t.”
Curtis lets out a bark of a laugh. “Stop or a bit of pressure? Your call.”
“Pressure. All of the pressure, or I’ll never get through this.”
I force myself to peek over my fingers, and Curtis moves his chair closer. He leans in, gentle fingers tucking my hair behind my ear, and rasps in his sex voice, “For what it’s worth, you have a very, very pretty cock. I can’t remember the last time I came so hard.”
I’m not so sure I haven’t melted into a puddle. “Okay. I can do this.”
I’m expecting this to be sexual tension on steroids, but when Curtis plays the video, his teasing disappears, and his face becomes a mask of concentration.
He points out lighting and shadows, pausing in certain spots to talk through framing and his suggestions for edits and cuts he wants to make.
It doesn’t take long for me to stop watching the footage and start watching him.
The concentration lines across his forehead, the way his eyes squint up when he’s puzzling through something, his professional, steady tone as he draws attention to things like, “See the way your precum bubbles on the tip like that? My subscribers will love that shot.”
And for all the nerves I had about this, Curtis makes it a lot easier than I was expecting it to be. I’m still overheated—in an awkward way, not a hot way—but I manage to get through the entire thing without dying.
Until he says, “Here it comes, the money shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Watch your cock. I swear I almost exploded at the sight.”
“What are you—”
“There.” I watch as I come, not seeing anything all that special to any other dick. “See the way your whole shaft pulses with it? The way your balls move? So sexy. Then here.” He points to where my thighs meet my groin. “The trembles through here are a dream.”
“They … are?”
He leans back in his chair and turns to me. “The fact you can’t tell how insanely hot you are is also insanely hot, by the way.”
“I’ll let you believe that for the both of us.”
“So what do you think? Are you comfortable with me sharing it, or do I get to add it to my personal spank bank?”
I know what I want him to do, but I’m nervous as hell.
What if Curtis is viewing me through some kind of lust goggles that his subscribers don’t have?
I don’t usually look at his comments section because most of the time, it’s dirty talk or coming emojis, but if it’s me on there with him, how do I not?
“Hey.” He reaches over and squeezes my thigh but doesn’t pull his hand away. “No pressure from me. I’ll even completely delete it if that’s what you want.”
I’m fast to shake my head, because that’s not what I want.
“Are you sure there’s no way to identify me?
It’s not that I’m nervous about what people will think, although I am, but mostly I’m worried because I’m trying to get a job and don’t want potential employers to look into me and find pictures of my cock all over the internet. ”
“I didn’t see anything, and I was looking, but we can watch it again?”
There is no way I’ll get through that a second time. “I trust you.”
“Is that a yes?”
It takes me a moment to get the word out, even though I know without a doubt what it will be. Why is it so hard to admit that I actually want this? “Yes.”
Curtis’s swift grin makes that answer worth it. “I’ve always wanted to do a collab.”
“So why haven’t you?”
“A few reasons. I’ve had offers from some bigger creators, but I didn’t feel like their style meshed well with mine.
Some were more into kink. Others focused on as much sex as possible.
And I know my subscribers would mostly be into it all, but I like the stuff I’m putting out, and I want to keep that going. ”
“I like it too. That needy, pining act really does it for me, at least.”
“Do you think … you would want to?”
It takes me a second to catch up. Would I want to collab?
Integrate into his act and see what we could come up with?
The answer to whether I want to have sex with Curtis is a solid yes, but the answer to whether I want an audience for that is iffy.
The thought of being watched is hot, but I’m not as confident as he is, and I’d hate to do anything that might ruin his channel and everything he’s built.
“What happened to not wanting things to be messy?”
“Relationships are messy.” He hesitates so fast I almost miss it. “This is work. A professional arrangement.”
That’s a fair distinction. “Can we post that first and see how it goes? I’m still not convinced that anyone else will find it as hot as you do.”
“I’ll never be happier to prove someone wrong.” He gives my leg a final squeeze and turns back to his screen, playing the footage again. I watch him edit for a few moments before I get up and pace around his room.
“If we do this again,” he throws back over his shoulder, “move closer to the edge of your bed so there’s a glimpse of your hole, and when you come, angle it toward the camera more. The moment you spurt is what people want to see.”
How is this a conversation we’re having?
“Noted,” I say, because what the hell else am I supposed to reply to that?
Curtis has some photos lined up along his set of drawers, and I move in for a better look at them.
There are some of him and David when they were around high school age, one of him, David, and Beth standing in front of what looks like the Grand Canyon, another of them at a hockey game, him and Beth at his graduation.
There are plenty with his friends too, but looking at these pictures, no one would believe that David and Beth aren’t his family.
I can only imagine how her decline is weighing on him.
I move along, picking up random souvenirs, looking at the photo on his iPad lock screen, and admiring the ugly ceramic dog statue. Then my gaze hits the notebook and pencils resting on his nightstand.
“Is this some of your art?” I ask, picking up the book. I’m about to flip open the cover when Curtis glances over and jolts around, hand extended.
“Don’t look at that.”
I’m not used to that sharp tone from him, and as much as my curiosity is begging to open the notebook and take a peek, I’ve already tested him more than enough for one lifetime.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was private.” I set it back down, and Curtis seems to breathe again.
He scuffs his hands back through his hair. “No, it’s … they’re rough. I don’t let people look at my stuff until it’s finished.”
“Can I see something finished?”
He thinks about my question for a moment before he gets up and crosses to where his iPad is. He unlocks it and opens a folder. “This one,” he says. “It’s the drafts for my graphic novel. Not perfect, but I’m happy with it.”
I flick through the pages while Curtis pretends like he’s not watching me. His drawings during Pictionary were good, but nothing professional, considering we were playing a game and he was drawing fast. This is something else. This is impressive.
“Holy shit. I don’t think I have a word for how amazing this is.”
He takes the iPad back and locks it. “Thanks. It still needs work.”
“Nuh-uh.” I take his shoulders and make sure he’s listening. “This isn’t like you telling me I’m good at porn and me denying it. This is objectively incredible.”
He studies my eyes, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying to him. “You are really good for my ego.”
“I’m serious. You need to get your novel done. It’s so good.”
For the first time ever, Curtis looks shy.
Curtis.
Stupidly sexy, confident Curtis.
“Huh,” I breathe, low-key obsessed with the sight. “Maybe people should meet their heroes after all.”
He tries to hide his smile as he tosses the iPad on the bed. “Why don’t you go make us some lunch while I finish editing this. Then we can post it together.”
My awe crashes at the reminder.
Guess we’re doing this.