they took a bit longer than expected.”
“Cut the shit you self-absorbed little prick,” he jammed a finger into the center of my chest, “Going on a bender and waking up too hung-over to function isn’t something I would call an errand. I’ve heard all about you and your brothers. I know that you’re all pains in the ass to work with. You think that the world revolves around you because your father was a legend. Well I’ve got some fucking news for you, kid! These people?” he swung his arm wildly to indicate the rest of the crew, “ they all have shit to do, too. Instead, they’ve been sitting here for the last two fucking hours waiting for you to sober up and decide to come to work.”
My fists were clenched at my sides so tightly that my nails were digging into my palms. I clamped my teeth down on my cheek to keep myself from saying anything I’d regret. The metallic taste of blood told me that I needed to get away from the guy before I lost my shit and my job.
With a concentrated effort, I unclenched my fists and tried to speak as calmly as possible, “I’m here now. Where’s the dressing room?” The words came out as more of a snarl than I had intended, but I didn’t spit in his face or break his nose, so I decided to call it a win.
He pointed to a room to my right that was barely more than a closet, “Be on set in two minutes.”
Brandon returned with a steaming cup of coffee as Ken spun to return to set. The director snatched it from his hand and threw it in his face as he screamed, “He doesn’t deserve any fucking coffee!”
Brandon stood there in shock as the hot liquid streamed down his face.
I motioned for him to follow me into the dressing room and slammed the door behind us.
My clothes were off in record time, even for me. I thrust them in his face, barely remembering not to throw them at him, “Here. They might be a little bit tight, but at least they’re not covered in fucking coffee. I can’t believe that prick!”
He stood there staring at me with his eyes and mouth wide open for a moment before he seemed to realize he was making it weird.
“Thanks,” he muttered as he took the swim trunks and tee shirt from my hand.
I had to give him credit; he only glanced down at my junk once.
I nodded at him and turned to the chair that had my outfit for the shoot draped over it. “Sometimes I hate this job,” I confided, “I think costume designers are just jealous bastards who like to torture those of us who have to wear the stuff they come up with.”
I stuffed my legs into the black leather pants and began the slow process of pulling them up.
My cock was going to look like a damn nightstick in the fucking things.
Brandon turned around in a show of modesty that I wasn’t accustomed to. He stripped off the black slacks and black button up he’d been wearing and quickly stepped into the board shorts I had given him. It had been a long time since someone had made me feel like we were in a junior high locker room and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” he spun around and flushed a brilliant red.
“Nothing,” I tried to control the chuckles that kept jumping out of me, “I’m just not used to modesty is all. In this industry, everyone just walks around with their cocks swinging freely in your face. It was refreshing, I suppose.”
“Oh,” he smiled sheepishly as I finally pulled the leather over my hips and tucked my package inside, “I don’t get naked in front of many people, let alone dudes. Not to mention you’re the biggest porn star in the world. It’s… intimidating.”
“First rule of Porn Club, Brandon:” I chuckled at my own joke, “You’ve got the biggest cock in the room. Even if you have a pencil dick, you act like it’s something Godzilla would be proud to call his own.”
“What?” confusion and shock washed over his face, “Porn club? What are you talking about?”
“If you’re gonna make it in this industry, that’s the mentality
“Cut the shit you self-absorbed little prick,” he jammed a finger into the center of my chest, “Going on a bender and waking up too hung-over to function isn’t something I would call an errand. I’ve heard all about you and your brothers. I know that you’re all pains in the ass to work with. You think that the world revolves around you because your father was a legend. Well I’ve got some fucking news for you, kid! These people?” he swung his arm wildly to indicate the rest of the crew, “ they all have shit to do, too. Instead, they’ve been sitting here for the last two fucking hours waiting for you to sober up and decide to come to work.”
My fists were clenched at my sides so tightly that my nails were digging into my palms. I clamped my teeth down on my cheek to keep myself from saying anything I’d regret. The metallic taste of blood told me that I needed to get away from the guy before I lost my shit and my job.
With a concentrated effort, I unclenched my fists and tried to speak as calmly as possible, “I’m here now. Where’s the dressing room?” The words came out as more of a snarl than I had intended, but I didn’t spit in his face or break his nose, so I decided to call it a win.
He pointed to a room to my right that was barely more than a closet, “Be on set in two minutes.”
Brandon returned with a steaming cup of coffee as Ken spun to return to set. The director snatched it from his hand and threw it in his face as he screamed, “He doesn’t deserve any fucking coffee!”
Brandon stood there in shock as the hot liquid streamed down his face.
I motioned for him to follow me into the dressing room and slammed the door behind us.
My clothes were off in record time, even for me. I thrust them in his face, barely remembering not to throw them at him, “Here. They might be a little bit tight, but at least they’re not covered in fucking coffee. I can’t believe that prick!”
He stood there staring at me with his eyes and mouth wide open for a moment before he seemed to realize he was making it weird.
“Thanks,” he muttered as he took the swim trunks and tee shirt from my hand.
I had to give him credit; he only glanced down at my junk once.
I nodded at him and turned to the chair that had my outfit for the shoot draped over it. “Sometimes I hate this job,” I confided, “I think costume designers are just jealous bastards who like to torture those of us who have to wear the stuff they come up with.”
I stuffed my legs into the black leather pants and began the slow process of pulling them up.
My cock was going to look like a damn nightstick in the fucking things.
Brandon turned around in a show of modesty that I wasn’t accustomed to. He stripped off the black slacks and black button up he’d been wearing and quickly stepped into the board shorts I had given him. It had been a long time since someone had made me feel like we were in a junior high locker room and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” he spun around and flushed a brilliant red.
“Nothing,” I tried to control the chuckles that kept jumping out of me, “I’m just not used to modesty is all. In this industry, everyone just walks around with their cocks swinging freely in your face. It was refreshing, I suppose.”
“Oh,” he smiled sheepishly as I finally pulled the leather over my hips and tucked my package inside, “I don’t get naked in front of many people, let alone dudes. Not to mention you’re the biggest porn star in the world. It’s… intimidating.”
“First rule of Porn Club, Brandon:” I chuckled at my own joke, “You’ve got the biggest cock in the room. Even if you have a pencil dick, you act like it’s something Godzilla would be proud to call his own.”
“What?” confusion and shock washed over his face, “Porn club? What are you talking about?”
“If you’re gonna make it in this industry, that’s the mentality
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