the look of love

Maybe he was too harsh. The last thing he wants is to be tangled up with real feelings for someone who’s just having fun fucking around but Patrick gets it. Art is new to this. It’s exciting. It’s hot. Patrick’s been there. He was out of control when he first started. Having sex with hot people and getting paid to do it of course it’s natural to want to have fun off the set. Especially if it feels like there’s physical chemistry. Of course it makes sense Art is doing the same thing.

He’s got his apology all prepared in his head. Like “Hey man I do like you… I just think we’re in different places…or looking for different things.” He’ll workshop it in the car. There's a sharp knock at his door as he’s finishing up packing his backpack. He goes to pull it open.

Unsurprised to see Tashi. “You really thought you were gonna leave me hanging all day?” She demands, entering his apartment and shutting the door behind her.

“I was gonna text you as soon as I got to the studio.”

“Give me a ride to campus and tell me now,” she says. “How was your cute date? Did you guys hook up?”

Patrick sighs. He drives her over to campus while he tells her all about how good it was going. How they spent all afternoon together. How maybe he ruined it in the end.

“Oh my god. You’re jealous,” Tashi points out.

“Why would I be jealous of him?”

“Not of him, you’re jealous of the idea of him with his other costars.”

Patrick snorts. “Well that’s more of a reason for me to stop. Being jealous or possessive in porn is the dumbest thing ever and it’s fucking embarrassing.”

“I don’t think you’re jealous of anything that happens on set. You hate the idea that he fucked around offset before he met you. You really think he would go buy toilet paper with all his costars, Patrick?”

“Well no, but that's only because I told him no flirting. I figured we could be friends.”

“Oh god,” Tashi laughs as he pulls up to where he’d usually drop her off. “Friends and you love him. You’re so stupid.”

“You’re stupid. I don’t love him.”

She gives him a look and then gathers her bookbag and tennis gear. “I dont need a ride back so do yourself a favor and ask him out again. You absolute loser. I want to meet him too.”

“Okay bye Tashi, some of us have jobs,” he teases, playfully shooing her out of the car. She slips out and shuts the door, flipping him the bird as she walks away. If life was fair he could just be with her but they’d annoy each other too much. Too much heat and nothing to cool it.

And in spite of what Tashi says he can like Art all he wants and know they don’t belong together. Yes, Art is hot and sweet and kind of a dork with a sense of humor that matches Patrick’s exactly. And yes, he seems adorably messy and a little uncouth in a way that let’s Patrick know that despite everything he’s decidedly, blessedly not a literal angel even if he looks just like one. And so what if Patrick loves having him around. It’s been one day… well a day and a half. 

Art’s just having fun. He doesn’t want Patrick. He wants a good time, which is fine, it's just maybe Patrick likes him too much for that. Whatever, even if it’s right… it’s definitely not the right time. 

*

Patrick gets to the dressing room and is surprised to see Stefan in there with Art when he arrives. It's a different outfit today, school uniforms apparently. They’re both in white button downs shirts and grey sweater vests over top, the ties tucked inside and tight slacks. It looks hot, in the naughty school boy fantasy kind of way. He’s confused about the threeway… no one mentioned they’d be doing that. “Hey man,” Stefan says. “Hows it going?” He goes for a handshake and Patrick is so distracted he’s barely in it. 

He sees Art’s ipod plugged up and it's playing Eminem. Which is fine, Patrick has plenty of that on his playlist, it just doesn’t seem like Art. Speaking of, Art doesn’t really look at him even though Patrick can't stop looking at him. 

He feels ashamed of what happened last night, even more than he felt this morning so he lets Art look past him. 

“I’ll see you on set,” Art says quietly to Stefan after he shuts off the ipod. Not saying anything to Patrick except for a barely muttered “hey.”

Yeah, Patrick definitely hurt him. 

Stefan seems mildly oblivious to the energy, he grins, watching Art’s bottom as he walks away. Patrick realizes then that his nails are digging into his palms and he forces himself to relax. He has no claim over Art. He made sure of that last night.  

“Dude,” Stefan breaks him out of his thoughts with a pat to the shoulder when Art clears the room. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me you got another chance to work with Chase?” He exclaims. 

“Chase?” Patrick says.

“Chase? Chase Everhard. Biggest name in the gay porn industry? You okay dude?” 

“I— what?”

“They told me I’m covering for you because you’re gonna be on set with Chase. Which of course you are. Only the best for you man,” he laughs. “Happy to pick up your slack though. Art is gorgeous. Maybe he’s the next Chase.”

“I’m fucking confused. No one told me I was working with Chase.” Patrick scratches his head. Chase is the same guy he’d been too nervous to eat around. The only time he’d ever been chosen to work with him and he’d passed out on set and had to go to the hospital. High profile, award winning, pretty as fuck Chase Everhard. Working with him was almost like a guaranteed nomination at next year's AVN awards.

“Did you talk to your management?”

Patrick takes out his phone. Dead. He had forgotten to charge it last night after…everything. Fuck.

He plugs it up on Stefan’s spare charger and sits next to the outlet listening to a frustrated message from his manager before calling her. Apparently, Chase became available yesterday evening and decided he wanted to work with Patrick. “Of course we’re not saying no to him.” She says when Patrick asks about finishing this shoot with Art.

“No of course,” Patrick agrees quietly. He just thinks it’d be nice to have two seconds to apologize to Art.

“Make sure you don’t get drunk on set this time.”

“I wasn’t drunk I…” Patrick sighs. It’s not worth arguing the point. This was his second chance. He can’t blow it if he wants to keep his career on track. Even if he can’t stop thinking about Art. The door swings open then and Patrick is half hopeful it’s Art until he sees Tanner.

“Where’s Art?” Tanner asks.

“On set, man,” Stefan says, his tone mildly cagey. He’s heard Patrick’s stories. And he’s had a couple of shitty experiences with management himself.

“What are you doing here?” Tanner spots Patrick on the floor. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the Chase shoot?"

“Yeah, it’s later,” Patrick mutters. 

“Oh nice job by the way, getting him drunk. He was sick all night. Guess things haven’t changed for you.”

Patrick feels guilty but he’s not about to express that to fucking Tanner. “Dude, can I leave this here to charge?” He asks Stefan, ignoring Tanner completely.  

“Of course, bro.” Stefan is bent over pulling on the signature socks. 

Patrick leaves the room and decides to head to the set just to express his feelings to Art. Let him know he’s sorry. 

“Hey, Zweig,” It’s Tanner. Entering the studio hallway behind him.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “What?” 

“Maybe leave him alone.” 

Patrick huffs a laugh and turns to keep walking. Before he knows what’s happening Tanner grabs his shoulder and Patrick shrugs him off violently. “Don’t.” He spits. Shocked by how fast he’s suddenly vibrating with rage.  

Tanner raises his hands defensively and takes a step back, like he can physically feel the anger radiating off of Patrick. As if Patrick is crazy for his reaction. ”Look, you can hate me all you want. Maybe I deserve it. But at the end of the day you have to think about what’s best for him.”

”I am. It’s definitely not being mixed up with you.” Patrick spits. 

“Come on Zweig, you know… you know in your heart that he’s special. And you… well you're a dick. That’s what’s special about you. Remember? That’s all you are. That’s what people want from you.  And no matter how famous you get, that's all you’ll ever be.” 

It’s never cruel when he says it, just matter of fact, practical. Like he’s crunched the numbers and everything he’s saying just makes good business sense. That’s the most crushing part. It’s not personal. It’s just… true. 

“Art is a name.” Tanner continues. “He’s a face. He’s a fucking star and you can feel it. You… you’re a fuck up. Always have been. And sure you can give him a ride on that thing.” He gestures towards Patrick’s crotch. “He can have a little fun with you, maybe a lot of fun, but at the end of the day… what can you really give him? Besides a taste of the rock bottom that you like so much? Only a matter of time before you go there again, right? Lose another award. Fuck up another shoot and then you’ll fall apart like you love to do.”    

Patrick swallows on it, looking through Tanner, jaw tight, muscles tense trying to hold his glare. Anything so as not to betray even the slightest hint that the words got to him. “Fuck you.” He mutters coldly and because he doesn’t think he can keep looking without an angry, embarrassed flush covering his cheeks, he turns on his heel and continues down the hall. 

“Yeah…keep blaming me for everything that ever went wrong,” Tanner calls after him. “Nothing’s really changed about you huh? Still entitled. Spoiled. Ungrateful. He’s not your peer. Best to just leave him alone now before you see just how far out of your league he is.”

Patrick feels sick. He feels like he’s been set on fire in the quiet dark and no one is there to even sound the alarm. His heart is hammering so hard it’s like it’s attempting to escape his ribcage. 

He keeps pacing away from Tanner, but he doesn’t go to the set where Art is. Instead, he walks to the new set he’s supposed to report to later for his shoot with Chase. 

He’ll just scope it out he decides. His throat hurts. He keeps swallowing on something painful but he ignores it. He smiles and introduces himself to the crew. Forces himself to focus on  meeting them and nothing else. He waits until the other shoot with Art is well underway before he risks going back to the dressing room for his stuff. Less chance of running into them. It’s better this way. Clean break. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. Knowing Tanner this is the last time he’ll work with the guy anyway. Who knows maybe Art will hook up with Stefan off set? He knows it’s mean to think it, but part of him is just scraping for a little bit of ego after what Tanner said. He hates Tanner, he fucking hates Tanner but Tanner is right. Art’s on another level. Patrick has reformed in many ways, but he isn’t fucking good for him.   

Later in the day as Kathy is doing his makeup she tries to ask him about it. “I’m excited for you… working with Chase but everyone keeps talking about how magic it was on set with you and Art.” She says. 

Patrick doesn’t even have the energy to refute it. It’s true. It was magic. Even off set. “Well on the bright side. I’ll probably win that award this time,” Patrick says, forcing himself to smile. Kathy gently ruffles his hair. 

“You’ll work with him again,” she says it like it’s a promise, but Patrick is sure it’s nothing stronger than what he has, just a wish. 

Chase always gets his own private suite so Patrick doesn’t get much time with him in the dressing room beforehand to bring up the awkwardness of their last shoot but things go pretty smoothly. It’s surprisingly easy actually. Maybe because Patrick’s more mature than he was last time. Maybe because he’s mellowed out. Maybe because even though it’s Chase Everhard it feels run of the mill compared to the last few days. 

Chase for all his fame is actually relatively down to Earth. He thinks the gay porn industry revolves around him and of course… it does. A hot 24 year old blonde boy with light eyes and pink lips who moans like a whore and can practically come on command from prostate stimulation alone. He’s what all the gay porn directors wish for.  His touch on a video almost instantly makes it go viral. He’s what all the boys (and girls) want to see when they’re touching themselves. But that’s where Chase’s vanity stops. He’s polite and professional, he doesn’t seem to let his ego interfere on set. Something Patrick aspires to. He wonders if he came across as egotistical to Art. No. He has to forget about that. 

It’s a good day. A professional day. Patrick is professional, responsible, he does his job perfectly. Chase is a professional too… he makes it look good. He knows all his angles, knows his lines. The director never once has to tell them to adjust. Chase anticipates the cameras’ movements even better than Patrick. Their bodies look great together in the harsh studio lights. It’s good. Perfect even… and when they’re done for the day Patrick gives his good natured goodbyes, cleans up and goes home. His only response to Tashi’s inquiring text is: didn’t work out. 

Do you wanna talk about it?

Another time.  

He takes Rebel for a long walk, and doesn't skip the Michael Jackson songs on his playlist. Not yet. He’s a big fan of Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough, actually. It has nothing to do with Art. Or his lopsided smile, his feet on the sofa, his utter inability to hold a convincing poker face, his stupid golden curls in the sunlight. 

Kathy calls him sunshine… 

Whatever, it’s just a good song. He drinks too much wine with dinner and falls asleep early. It sucks but it’ll get better. He barely knew Art. Soon it will feel like nothing. He gets to set the next day for pick up shots. Again it’s professional. No snags, no issues.

Chase invites him to lunch at some swanky restaurant. “I remember you being more fun,” he smirks. 

“That wasn’t fun?” Patrick asks.

“I mean… it was technically perfect but no…you weren’t having any fun.” He smiles, like he’s trying to let Patrick know it’s no big deal. “Are you not attracted to me anymore? You were so nervous last time.” He teases. 

“Of course I’m attracted to you. Everyone is.” Patrick didn’t realize he was obvious. Phoning it in on a porn set is not unheard of. Lots of people do it but part of becoming a porn star is in how you execute. Can you sell it? Can you make that person at home want you? Come back to your videos. If you’re bored, if you’re going through the motions, muttering the words without selling it, people can tell. 

“I guess I didn’t expect the shoot. It was so all of a sudden and my mind was somewhere else.”

“Yeah for me to— but I’d been wanting to work with you again and your name was floating around so I guess my manager just hopped on the opportunity.”

“You wanted to work with me?” Patrick asks, somewhat stunned.

“Yeah of course I did. It’s you. Are you kidding? Why do you sound surprised?”

“I just thought after the whole… thing last time. I mean… I never heard from your team again.”

Chase laughs. “I thought that was your team. They called me a bad influence. Which made sense. I got you to drink on the clock. You were too young for that and you ended up in the hospital. I still feel fucking sick about it.”

“No, uh… don’t feel bad,” Patrick sips his sparkling water. His team had been Tanner back then. Of course. Fucking with his career at any opportunity. He didn’t realize it had started so early on.

They wrap up early in the afternoon. Patrick does his best to have a little fun on the rest of the shoot. He hopes it’s captured by the cameras. He doesn’t run into Art or Stefan. Thank god for that. He goes home to mope the rest of the day but Tashi won’t allow it. She makes him get up and play tennis. She’s at least nice enough not to bring up Art. Though she does point out… “the way you’re acting it's like he’s an ex-boyfriend you’ve been in love with for years. Maybe whatever it is you can work it out.”

Patrick scrunches up his face. “ Nah. I’ll be fine in like… a day or two. I just need to get it out of my system” 

“Uh huh, sure loverboy,” Tashi says, bouncing a ball across the net at him. “Your serve.” 

He’s not fine in a few days but he slowly starts to come back to himself. As much as you can go back to enjoying life in black and white after being wholly saturated in the vivid messiness of color, every hue, more intense and breathtaking than the last. Fuck. He spends one afternoon with a boy from a porn set and this is how he’s thinking about it. God imagine if he actually knew Art. It’s too much. Too fast. Like everything that’s ever fucked him up since he entered the industry. Clean break is absolutely for the best.

He goes to a nightclub with Tashi, her boyfriend and a few of her college buddies. This trendy, popular spot where you have to dress nice and the line is wrapped around the block a couple of times. They wait and wait and almost don’t get in, until the bouncer… this big burly muscular guy, recognizes Patrick from his work. It's so unexpected the way he squeals in excitement that it warrants an endless amount of teasing from Tashi. “Your reach, Pat. Your face when you were afraid he’d break you in half with a pinky finger but instead he’s fangirling.” She giggles. Patrick knows she’ll never let him live it down. The bouncer not only gets them in but insists that they get a spot in the VIP section. So good things still happen. 

Patrick probably drinks too much, dances all night with a pretty blonde girl. Because suddenly he’s very attracted to blondes, god help him if that’s gonna be the norm. They make out on the sofa in the VIP section. He considers letting her come over but then he pussies out. At the end of the night the bouncer comes over and asks for a selfie so he can share it with his boyfriend. One with Patrick and then one with the whole group, all of them drunk and sweaty and making silly faces in the now bright light of the club at 3 in the morning. It's actually a really fun night.  

Even better, Patrick books his next job, nothing special. It's just a gangbang with 5 guys, you know, run of the mill stuff. Two of the guys he’s worked with before, three are new to him and he absolutely does not look at their work beforehand. 

He’ll be the big name on set officially. Its one of those situations where his presence makes or breaks the shoot which is a really fucking cool place to be. Apparently he’s already feeling the impact of having worked with Chase. In a past life Patrick would be ecstatic. He’s been working so hard for exactly this. 

Part of him wants to call Stefan to celebrate but he hasn’t spoken to him outside of very vague responses to his texts. The last thing he wants to hear about is how it all went with Art. Instead he drags Tashi out to celebrate. Unfortunately her boyfriend tags along, suspicious of Patrick now that he realizes that Tashi's ex hook up does porn. He’s apparently very aware of the size of Patrick’s cock now. Someone must’ve done some late night digging. 

They don’t go to tapas again. Far from that, they get hibachi and Patrick probably drinks too much sake. He’s been drinking a lot yes… but only socially and he always stops himself a drink before he goes too far.

He doesn’t see Art again but he does get a call from Simmons, the director from their shoot. Apparently there’s already a lot of buzz on their video and he wants Patrick and Art to sign a five picture deal with their production company. “If Art’s management team agrees, would you be on board?” Patrick’s manager poses the question. “They’re offering a lot of money. Shit this thing must be doing the numbers. Have you looked it up?” She asks.

”No… I, you know I don’t…”  Patrick says.

”Yeah… yeah your rules…I know but… oh wow.” His manager says distractedly, clearly looking at the clip now. “You should really tell them yes. There is something incredible here. This video is more viral than the one with Chase. Jesus Christ. Say yes now, I’m gonna negotiate more money.” 

Patrick says yes against his better judgment. Maybe because his manager sounds like she’ll have a conniption if he doesn’t. Maybe because he knows Tanner will never allow him to work with Art again so it’s not like there’s any risk that he’ll be back on set with him anytime soon. And unsurprisingly he’s correct, Art’s management doesn’t agree, probably hasn’t even run it by Art. No, definitely hasn’t. 

Patrick does watch the clip eventually. He gets a message from the big burly bouncer that was at the club the other night, who Patrick now knows as Donnie. Donnie sends the clip and a message saying, this is the hottest shit you’ve ever done man.

Patrick’s not really sure what to say to that.

It's sent the night before his gangbang shoot. Patrick hasn’t really broken a single rule since Art, he’s been purging… somewhat. No industry parties, no hard drugs. No sex. No crazy spending. But he can’t help himself… he clicks the link. He’s stunned to see the clip has over half a million views. He watches himself and Art on set. Art on his knees taking Patrick’s cock in his mouth. Art’s already come, his hands shiny with his jizz as he grips Patrick’s bare thighs. And suddenly the video version of himself is coming and Art lets it spill from his lips. The mess of it all over his mouth and chin as he chokes on it. Patrick remembers the way Art sought a kiss afterwards and he’s shocked to witness it on camera. They kept it in.  All of it. It looks filthy and delicious. Patrick can almost still taste it. He knows Tanner must hate it and it actually gives him glee.

He closes his eyes, because whatever. Fuck it. He’s not working with Art tomorrow. He shoves his hand down his shorts jerking himself for the images and the added memories his brain supplies. It takes him no time at all to come. He wipes his hands off in the tissue on his nightstand.

He knows it can’t happen again so he  reacts to the message with a laughing emoji and then mutes the conversation. He passes out asleep just moments later. 

Patrick is half asleep when he gets the phone call. It’s probably 2 in the morning.

He glares bleary eyed at his phone. Stefan. He frowns and picks it up. “What's up man?”

“Bro, oh thank fuck. Can you do me a solid?” He sounds weird. This odd energy under his voice that Patrick can’t quite place. The calm tone doesn’t match his words, and just beneath it there’s something urgent… panicked. 

Patrick sits up. “What’s going on?”

“You know that agreement we have. One freebie. No questions asked.”

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” 

Patrick starts his car.  Hoodie on over his t-shirt but still in his sleep shorts. He’s shivering in the mid October night air so he turns on the heat. It's a 20 minute drive to the address Stefan gave him. The houses are soon spaced further and further apart as they get more and more expensive in this part of the city. He gets there in record time. It's a massive house, something you’d see in a movie. Something maybe Patrick might be able to afford in the future if he keeps booking roles like this. 

He calls Stefan when he’s outside and waits.  And waits. No response. No nothing. Patrick grips the steering wheel tighter. Almost lights a cigarette. After another 5 minutes he calls again. No response. He shuts off the car. He’s pulling at the handle, ready to go in and see what’s going on, when he looks up and sees Stefan walk outside. 

Art is tailing him. Patrick’s heart rate picks up. They’re both dressed up like they’re leaving a club.  Both wearing tight dark colored jeans that show off everything. Fitted shirts. Stefan's shirt is a button down, unbuttoned at the top and at the bottom to show off his chest and abs. Art is in a black mostly mesh tank showing off his solid build, he’s got a jean jacket wrapped over his hands cradled in front of him. They approach the car.  

“Oh god, man. Thank you so much for coming,” Stefan says when he hops in the front seat. 

“Of course.” Patrick says, he watches as Art slides into the backseat. Patrick catches his eye in the rearview and Art quickly looks away. Patrick feels his stomach drop but he doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks for the ride.” Art murmurs.

“You’re welcome. You want me to drop you home first?” He says, only a little cool in his tone just because he senses Art’s coldness.

“I don’t think that's a good idea.” Stefan interrupts before Art can say anything and now Patrick is really curious. “Look man I know you’re really protective of your space so its no big deal if you cant… but you live closer than me and you don’t have roommates… if we could just crash with you for one night I promise—”

”Yeah, of course,” Patrick interrupts, without hesitation. He notices Art resting his head against the back window. Stefan is quiet too after a relieved sounding “thank you.” It’s just the radio, Patrick’s iPod on low playing David Bowie. Patrick wants to keep the agreement “no questions asked” but hes so fucking curious. Whose house were they at? Why are they dressed like that? What the fuck made Stefan sound so scared?  

His iPod chooses that moment to shuffle to a random Michael Jackson song and Patrick feels the back of his neck heat up. He can’t change it now that it’s started to play. How pathetic does he look? He shouldn’t have had his iPod on shuffle. He very determinedly does not look in the rearview. One good thing, it’s dark so Art can’t see how red his neck is probably getting. 

“I know it’s a little chilly but can I roll the window down?” Stefan asks. 

“Yeah, go for it.” Patrick says. At least the wind drowns out the music just a little bit. 

It’s an equally quiet walk up to his apartment. Rebel looks up from her bed when the door opens, it seems like she’s considering getting up to defend Patrick but decides maybe she’s too tired and drops her head again. Useless. 

Art and Stefan don’t seem to have anything on them except essentials, (phone, ID, keys, gum) so Patrick offers them both something more comfortable to sleep in. Stefan takes his old high school sweatshirt and pajama pants. Art takes the long sleeved white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Stefan changes first in the half bath just off Patricks living room, leaving Patrick and Art alone, both avoiding eye contact. “Lemme see if I have some spare toothbrushes,” Patrick says, just to find a reason to busy himself. He knows he has toothbrushes, he knows exactly where they are but disappears into his room anyway like a coward.

“My hero, dude,” Stefan says gratefully, once he’s changed and come out of the half bath. “I’m so fucking tired.” Even in the dim light, when Patrick looks at him he can see Stefan’s pupils are blown wide. Probably high out of his fucking mind. They both probably are. One upside, maybe Art won’t even remember this in the morning.  

They do everything like they’re half asleep already. Stefan climbs onto the pull out and flops down with an audible sigh. 

“Do you guys want water or something? It helps.” Patrick offers. 

Stefan grunts. 

Art finally looks at him. “Yes please.” 

Patrick shuffles to the kitchen. Art trails him there. 

“Can I ask what you took?” Patrick says. 

Art nods. “It’s in the alphabet.” He says quietly. This close up in the kitchen light Patrick can tell he’s got on some kinda eyeliner or mascara or something. He’s got glitter on his skin and he smells like cherry licorice. God he’s so beautiful. Whatever he was doing at that party, it was for attention. 

“Huh,” Patrick says, handing him the glass. “E or K or MJ?” 

Art smiles, looking down as he tries to hide it. “Just E.”   

Stupid the way Patrick feels warm for that little smile. 

Art takes a drink. “Speaking of MJ. I can’t believe you played that song.” He scratches his head. “Did I teach you that one?”

“Oh come on, everyone knows Beat It.” Patrick smirks, relieved that he’s not still red in the face over it. 

“Lets hope so,” Art says. He takes another drink, his gaze getting spacey. He wobbles a bit and Patrick quickly grips his arm and moves to step next to him supporting his weight. 

“Just E or was it laced with something else?” Patrick asks, as Art leans against him.

“A little coke.”

“Yeah, alright,” Patrick says, gently. “Come on, let's sleep it off.”

“You’re so nice,” Art says softly, mouth too close to Patrick’s ear. He can feel the heat of his breath. Every memory of his body on Patrick’s body flooding back, like a damn opening. “I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I tried to cross the line and now you hate me,” Art continues, voice going up in pitch.

“I don’t hate you, come on, you’re high. Sit.” He guides Art to the pull out bed and he drops onto the mattress. Stefan is face down, snoring but Art is fighting sleep for some reason. 

“You pulled out of the shoot. You pulled out because I crossed your… your boundaries. Stefan told me you had them. I didn’t know. You just wanted to be my friend and I fucking… fucked it up.” His eyes are wet and he rubs them.   

Patrick swallows on a lump, he never considered how it must’ve looked to Art. He said that bullshit and never even apologized. Then he left the shoot to work with someone else. God. It makes sense why Art thinks Patrick hates him. Suddenly words feel difficult. “That’s.. that’s not true. I… fuck… stay there. I’m gonna get you some tissues.” He glances at Stefan who’s started to shift in the bed. “Shh…” he adds unnecessarily.  

Art nods and sniffles, rubbing his nose. It’s gone all pink, the eyeliner running. Patrick really fucked up. He didn’t even get to give him an explanation. He’d just given up because Tanner got in his fucking head. It’s not an excuse but it’s what happened.  And now Art spent all this time just thinking Patrick hated him which makes him feel horrible. He grabs tissue from his bedroom and when he returns he sees Art in the doorway, like he couldn’t wait  the few seconds for Patrick to come back. 

“Come in,” Patrick tells him. 

Art hesitates and for a moment Patrick gets nervous he’ll lose his footing again, but he makes it. Patrick approaches him with the tissues and he wipes his tear stained cheeks. 

“I didn’t pull out of the shoot. It was my manager.” Patrick explains. “You remember the guy I told you I passed out in front of when I didn’t eat before a shoot?”

Art nods his head, tissue wadded up as he blots his eyes, staining it with specks of mascara. 

“Thats who called. Chase Everhard wanted to film with me and you don’t really say no to that but…but  it doesn’t matter… it was stupid. I should’ve finished with you.” 

Art gets wobbly again and Patrick grips his elbow lightly, bringing him to his bed, “sit.” 

Art looks at the bed and then settles on the edge, sitting on his hands and looking up at Patrick. “I’m really sorry.” He says again, quietly. “I think you’re so…” he stops himself and tries again. “I can stop… I mean…” he takes a breath. “I can be your friend. If you let me. I promise.” 

“Yes… yeah… of course.” Patrick shifts on his feet, a mess of emotions he’s trying to keep inside, guilt, regret… arousal. His balls suddenly aching. Art is sitting on his bed. Sleepy. Emotional. Bleary eyed in mascara. Just really fucking beautiful. He’s wearing Patrick’s clothes too which just makes it all ten times hotter. If this were porn it's pretty obvious what would happen next. Every problem in gay porn is solved by some guy's dick (maybe in straight porn too). If only things were really that simple.    

“Uh… you can lie down,” Patrick says, the implication is there but thats not at all how Patrick means it… mostly.  As tempted as he is he would never actually do anything with Art in this state. He hopes it doesn’t come across that way, but Art is apparently too high to think about how it comes across. He curls up on the mattress right away, like he was just waiting for the okay. Patrick covers him in his blankets and flips off all the lights in his place before he gets in bed next to him. He hasn’t had anyone in bed with him for an embarrassingly long time, especially embarrassing as someone who fucks on camera for a living. It’s a king size bed with more than enough space to accommodate both of them, they’re not even touching and still he’s aware of Art’s presence. Feels it in the heavy ache of his cock. It takes a while to relax, even longer to fall asleep but eventually exhaustion catches up with him and he dozes off. 

+

He’s woken by a familiar sound coming from just outside his bedroom. He grunts, eyes squinting open and blinded by early morning rays of sunlight. He shifts in bed, his dick is basically tenting his shorts which he can only hope didn’t come into contact with Art last night. He rolls over and Art is still next to him, still fast asleep. Blonde hair fanned out over Patrick’s pillow case. He looks golden in the early morning light and it makes Patrick ache in ways that have nothing to do with his dick. Behind Art, his digital clock shows that it’s almost 8 am. Patrick gently eases himself out of bed to go check on Stefan, but first he makes a quick pit stop in his en-suite to rub one out. 

His shoot isn’t till later in the day thankfully. He’s considering asking for a sick day. Usually sick days means they call another performer in to replace you (which is why people often come in sick which is a whole other issue). The exception is usually when you’re the biggest name in the shoot. If the production company thinks they’ll make more money with your name, than they’ll lose by missing a day or two they’d sooner change the schedule. Patrick has a following and not to mention he almost never gets sick so directors will usually work with him. 

He’s leaving the bathroom when he sees Art blinking himself awake. “Sorry… did I wake you?” Patrick says quietly.

“Mm, no,” Art groans, stretching. “Where are you going?” 

“To check on Rebel, maybe take her for a quick walk.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Art says. It's making Patrick’s insides feel warm, it’s like he doesn’t want Patrick to leave him alone. Who wants to get up at 8 am after a late night of intoxication just so he can be where Patrick is? He rubs his eyes. They aren’t dilated anymore but yesterday's mascara has smudged under his eyes and he looks so god damn pretty just waking up soft in the morning, Patrick might need another round with his hand.

Patrick lingers near the bedroom door and watches him crawl out of bed.  “You’re not sleepy?” 

“Mmhm, I am but I wanna come with you. Wait for me.” Art walks past him into the en-suite. Patrick doesn’t usually let guests use his private bathroom but Art wouldn’t know that. Besides, they just shared a bed. They just slept together. In bed. Together. 

Patrick leaves the bedroom. The sound that woke him is Rebel. She’s awake nudging her bowl around the kitchen like she does every morning at fuck your sleep o clock. Thankfully it’s not impacted Stefan at all. Hes still passed out on the pullout, knee drawn up at his side, hugging the spare pillow and snoring softly. Rebel whines when she sees him. “Okay chill… you act like I literally never feed you.” Patrick says, dryly. He turns on the Keurig his sister got him that he never uses unless he has guests and starts brewing something in case Art wants some. He opens the pantry and pulls out the dog food. Rebel follows him around excitedly as he pours some food in her bowl only for her to eat it all in one second. 

Art wanders out of the bedroom and goes in the guest bathroom to brush his teeth before joining Patrick, leaning on the counter that divides the kitchen from the sitting room. The long sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up. He rubs his eyes again, which are sadly mascara and smudge free. Though some of the glitter still lingers. He’s clearly still sleepy.

“You want some coffee?” 

“Mmhm.” 

Patrick grabs a mug and sets it by the Keurig as it brews. He reaches in the fridge for creamer and takes sugar off his kitchen table which mainly serves as a dumping spot for anything he brings in the front door. “I have food too. Are you hungry? I can warm up some cinnamon waffles.” 

“Maybe later, I still feel… a little… under the influence,” Art says, quietly.

Patrick nods, the silence isn’t uncomfortable but Patrick still feels antsy. “It’s fucking chilly out there, lemme get you a hoodie.”

“Okay,” Art smiles as Patrick goes back in the bedroom. He leans against the wall for a moment and takes a deep breath. How is he nervous? How is this nerve wracking? Get fucking grip Patrick. He coaches himself and goes in his closet for something warm for Art to wear, an oversized hoodie that says: “Kennebunkport?” Art pronounces, trying to read the word on the front. 

“It’s in Maine, my parents have a summer house there.” 

“Oh…” Art grins, the light up his whole face grin, “I forgot you were the kind of kid who grew up with a summer house.” 

“Don’t worry. All of that will go to my older brother. You know… unless I stop kissing boys or something really quickly.” He pours out a mug for Art and one for himself.  

“Oh right. Of course, turn off half of yourself. That’s easy,” Art says, softly with a little shrug. The sleeves are so long he cradles his mug with the fabric over his hands. “You know that’s the upside of my parents being dead. They don’t get the chance to be fucking annoying.” 

Patrick raises his eyebrows, mildly stunned. He gazes at Art and catches him smirking. “Am I allowed to laugh?” 

“That’s the point of gallows humor,” Art says, grinning openly. “I must be the only person you know with dead parents.”

“Yeah but you’re also my favorite so there’s that.” Patrick smiles and looks down, running his thumb over the rim of his coffee cup for a moment. Jesus. He’s got to come down. “Hey so about last night…” Patrick begins.

“Yeah uh… I was out of it but I um… I remember some things and I meant it. I do want to be your friend.” 

“Yeah… um I know. There were some things I wanted to tell you… uh sober.”

“Right,” Art says, he bites his lip and takes a sip.  

“Just because I didn’t want you to misunderstand.” Patrick adds. “It’s about the last time you were here. Before you left… that shit I said.” Patrick begins. “I was an asshole.” 

Art shrugs. “No, don't worry about it. It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t,” Patrick says. “I didn’t have to act like that. I shouldn’t have. I get that you’re exploring and having fun and hooking up with your co-stars and there’s nothing wrong with that. I didn’t have to act like it was some horrible thing. Plenty of people do it. I did it when I started. I was being a hypocrite and I’m sorry.” 

“No it’s okay Stefan told me you don’t party or hook up with co-stars. That you’ve got all these rules. I get it. Honestly, I haven’t really hooked up with anyone off set, either,” Art admits.   

That sets Patrick back, he squints. “I thought you said your co-stars ask you if you want to fuck off screen all the time?”

“Yeah, they do,” Art says, “but I mean I’ve been so focused on my gran. And I’m still trying to figure out… what I like. I don’t know. You’re like the first time I… well it's not important.” He says quietly, cheeks starting to color. He looks into his mug like he’s found something interesting in there and takes another sip. “Anyway I didn’t mean to cross your boundaries. Stefan told me you’ve been through a lot and… honestly the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

Great. Right. Of course. Patrick completely fucked that up. Who’s surprised? God it’s like he’s become his mom without trying.  Her rules, her boundaries, her rich person need to etiquette things to death to quell her anxiety. That’s him with all his rules. He’d been worried that none of it was serious with Art. That none of it was true. That everything he felt was one sided and Art was just looking for a meaningless hookup with that one pornstar with the fat monster cock. He made up a whole scenario in his head and pushed Art away. He opens his mouth but Rebel is at Art's feet and Art kneels to pet between her ears. “I guess she’s ready to go.”

“Oh. Uh yeah.” Patrick says, dumbly. They leash Rebel up and head outside. Chilly is an understatement. It’s fucking frigid. Patrick can see his breath. He should’ve changed into pants but he’s stubborn. Other than the cold though, it’s beautiful. There’s this pale pink autumn sun, the sky is a pretty reddish color. Patrick loves his neighborhood because there’s always something to do, lots of shops and cafes just outside. The street car within walking distance and tons of bars and pubs just a short ride away. The streets are never quiet. At 8 am locals are on their way to school or their standard 9 to 5s. Tourists are up getting a headstart on the day, walking about with cameras draped over their necks. Rebel trails around sniffing for a place to do her business.

“Oh…thanks for saving us last night,” Art says, quietly as they stroll. He does the thing where he brushes against Patrick’s shoulder and Patrick is suddenly perfectly warm. Doesn’t even need a hoodie.

“Saving?” 

“Mmhm.” 

It’s not the word he expected to hear— he’s still really curious about last night…so he just decides to ask. ”What happened?” 

“You’re gonna be mad.” 

Patrick narrows his eyes. “Tanner?”

“Well no… I mean, yes it was his friend… but he wasn’t at the party. He didn’t know it would be a shit show.” 

Patrick rolls his eyes. Art is too trusting, too naive, too sweet. Forgiving Patrick just like that, believing Tanner only has his best interests at heart. Maybe the worst part about Patrick disappearing on him is that he didn’t follow up with his manager to get Art away from Tanner. Turns out Tanner coordinated with some asshole friend of his to offer Art and Stefan five grand just to be eye candy or arm candy or whatever the fuck for the night at some rich people party. 

“We were just gonna hang out all night and look pretty or tempting or whatever. It was supposed to be older guys who were late bloomers and had been too scared to come out… it sounded kinda sweet but…” he trails off.

“Yeah sweet. Did you tell him you’re a porn star and not a prostitute?” Patrick says coolly. 

“It wasn’t like that.” Art says defensively. 

“Of course it was like that, it’s always fucking like that,” Patrick snaps, his anger with Tanner mistakenly being pushed to Art who goes quiet. 

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says, gentler after a beat. “Did anyone hurt you?” he asks. Art hugs himself around the middle, drowning in the oversized sweatshirt. Patrick feels his throat tightening, if anything happened to him Patrick feels like he might consider for the first time in his life buying a gun. 

“People got really intoxicated and handsy but… well Stefan kinda stopped everything. We snuck into the bathroom before things got….” He takes a breath and so does Patrick. “I know it was stupid. I just really needed the money.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe he’s saying that. “We didn’t even get anything in the end. I guess it turns out they wrote into the contract that if we left early we’d get nothing.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Yeah.”  

They’re quiet for a beat. 

“How much did you get for the last two shoots with me and Stefan?” Patrick asks, curiously. He doesn’t expect Art to already be making as much as him but as a fast rising star Patrick is a bit shocked when he hears the lowball number.

“Tanner said when you pulled out of the production they cut the pay for the second one.” Art explains. “Like since you’re a big name.” 

Patrick bites his tongue. It’s not true. That’s one of the things he learned signing on to a reputable management team. The performers' pay is set up front, residuals can be negotiated as videos and clips go viral but it takes a skilled manager and a popular star to negotiate that. Patrick leaving wouldn’t change Art’s cut— only Tanner would do that.

Something clicks in Patrick’s brain. 

He never pulled out of the production, no. Tanner must have took him out. Patrick broke the rules. He kissed Art repeatedly after Tanner made it clear it was not allowed. The same day Stefan was suddenly called in to pinch hit for him and Chase was just suddenly available and desperate to get a shoot in when he hadn’t worked with Patrick for years. He’s not sure how he did it but it just reeks of Tanner’s manipulation. Patrick is a little stunned he didn’t recognize it before.

He feels bitter and a little sick, helpless all over again on Art’s behalf. 

Everything traumatising and fucked up that came with Patrick entering the industry at 18 wasn’t Tanner’s fault. But he definitely did nothing to help and capitalised on every opportunity to make it worse. Rebel’s leash slips down along the bend of his elbow, and he reaches in his pocket for his cigarettes and taps one out and lights it .

“Can I have some?”

Patrick hands it to him. Art puts it to his lips and Patrick lights it for him. Watching him take a drag before he takes it for his own. “Have you considered what we talked about? My manager can help you find someone in her agency.”

“Uh yeah…” Art chews inside of his cheek a moment. “It’s just… I mean it’s a little awkward. I’m staying with him. I don’t want to do that and then fucking kicks me out.” 

Patrick looks him over and takes a drag on the cigarette. “Have you fucked him yet?” Patrick blurts.

Art doesn’t meet his gaze. A quiet rage settles in Patrick’s chest. He turns away from Art just because he’s afraid Art will be able to see it in his eyes and Patrick doesn’t want to scare him. He blows the smoke out; it's visible with his breath in the cold. He tries to calm himself down as he watches Rebel snake her way around lamp post in front of him. “How did he talk you into it?” 

Art shrugs again. “I mean I think he’s different than when you knew him he’s more—”

”He’s not,” Patrick interrupts bluntly. 

“Well… he hasn’t been weird or controlling at all. And I mean I fuck guys on camera all the time… some even older than him so its not that big of a deal if I fuck him once.”  

It’s a familiar statement, because it doesn’t originate with Art. Those are Tanner’s words. Tanner made it so easy to just slide into that nonsense. Coming from his rigid anxious mother, to Tanner’s house with no rules. Patrick could stay up on video games, he could drink and smoke and have people over and party and fuck and do lines all night. And the only adult around would be right next to him not giving a fuck. Patrick thought he was so cool. He thought the parties were cool as if being 40 and mostly partying with 20 year olds didn’t just make Tanner an absolute fucking loser. He still remembers staying up late, all the careful touches that always lingered too long, till they became too much. Till Tanner just said it, “You do it all the time for work. What’s the big deal if we do it once?” 

And then years later the therapist, his sister all but forced him to see, explained, “so that’s what we call grooming.” 

He doesn’t want that for Art.

Patrick stops Art midstride with a hand to his chest when the thought enters his head. “I have an idea.”  Rebel pulls the leash for a moment but realizing she’s going nowhere she stops to meander around the nearest tree.

“What?”

“What if you move out?”

“I can’t afford it, not yet,” Art mutters. 

“You can move in with me,” Patrick says; Art’s eyes widen and he smiles a little before he presses his lips together to hide it, gaze turning down to the concrete.  

“No seriously, I mean…like… you can stay here… until you get the money you need.” Patrick continues, trying to sound less like they’re making some kind of commitment. Not that Patrick would be opposed to that. 

Art looks back at him. “With you?” 

“Look it’s um… if you’re worried about comfort I can sleep on the pull out and—” 

Art laughs. “Oh god, I’m not gonna put you out of that cozy bed.”

”Please. I don’t care, the pull out is cozy too and I- I hate that you’re staying with him. I hate that he got you to fuck him. I hate that he’s managing you. Did he even tell you our shoot went viral and that Simmons wanted us in a 5 picture deal to follow what we did?” 

“What?” Art says. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes. I told them yes and your management said no. Just like I never pulled out of that shoot, okay? That’s why I showed up in our dressing room the next day. Yes, I acted like a dick the night before but I expected to film with you and guess who didn’t want me to. It’s him. He’s the reason for all of it.”  

Art holds his gaze, the tips of his ears and his nose are pink with the autumn cold. Big blue eyes getting watery. “Fuck. Are you serious? He never… Why wouldn’t he fucking tell me?” 

“He doesn’t want me to corrupt you of course.” Patrick takes a slow drag.

Art looks properly irritated now. “I would rather do twenty films with you than one night like last night.” There’s an edge to his voice that Patrick kinda likes. Yes, be mean, beautiful. His mind supplies. 

“You have to leave. Come on, say yes and we can go get your stuff today. I'm serious. I’ll see if I can call out of this shoot and fucking drive you there myself. Then you can talk to my manager to see how to break your contract.”

Art closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, it’s visible as he lets it out.  “Oh god, fine. Fuck it. Sure. Yes. I just… I need to be sure he can’t sue me or something before I tell him I want to break it. I can’t risk it. All my money goes to my grandma.” 

”Oh you’re a star in the making, you’re going to get money. Whatever you have now… I’m a thousand percent sure my management team can get you more. And their cut never changes.”

They’re quiet for a little as they finish the walk. Patrick excited and anxious at the same time.  Art lost in his own thoughts. “You’re crazy. You’re gonna let me live with you after knowing each other for what? A total of 72 hours?” 

“Yes, but technically we also know each other carnally.” Patrick jokes because he’s not going to admit knowing Art for 72 hours feels better than anything that he had even had the capacity to imagine before. Art doesn’t need to hear that right now. Way too much, way too fast.  

Art laughs. “You’re crazy. And to think I thought you hated me.” 

“I could never.” Patrick blurts without thinking. Art smiles, the one that lights up his face. 

“Look, we can figure everything out.” Patrick says. It’s messy but Patrick wants two things, one, to stick it to Tanner and two, to make sure Art escapes his grasp before he becomes a star. 

They stop at the bagelshop and pick up half a dozen and a few different types of cream cheese for the house. “You are a bad influence, I eat so badly when I’m with you.” Art teases. 

Patrick grins. “We’ll play tennis or work out or something I promise. You can motivate me.” 

When they get back to Patrick’s apartment it’s almost 8:30 and Stefan is still snoring. The television is on so it seems like he woke up for a minute or two. Rebel is chill… finally. She curls up near her bed. Art yawns but goes to the food, settling at the kitchen table. Patrick calls the production to ask if they can push the shoot to start tomorrow and surprisingly he gets his way. They shut the set down for him.

“Isnt that crazy?” He tells Art mid bite of an everything bagel smeared in cream cheese.

 “Not really… you’re like a huge star… of course they’ll shut shit down for you.” Art shrugs matter of factly.

Patrick smirks. “Yeah i guess i am pretty huge.”

Art bites his lip and looks at him…he looks sleepy.

“You want to take a nap?” Patrick asks, softly. Art nods. 

“Uh I'm sorry about… I mean… thanks for yesterday, letting me sleep in there.”

“You can go lie down in there now if you want, I think he’s claimed the whole thing for himself.” Patrick says, gesturing at Stefan still stretched across the pull out, snoring.

Art smiles.

“What?” Patrick asks, grinning back at him. 

“I don’t think I'm still high but you make my head feel so fuzzy,” Art says and then he groans and covers his face, “Sorry I’m—I know I have to stop flirting but um… it’s gonna be really hard to be your roommate,” he mumbles behind his hands.

Patrick leans in and drags Art’s hands away from his face, his skin is flushed, gorgeous.

“You have to stop saying sorry,” Patrick hums and presses his mouth to Arts lips.

It’s as overwhelming as the first time they did it on set. Suddenly the sound coming from the tv is barely audible in his head. He pulls back so immediately breathless. They stare at each other and try again. He shivers when he feels Art’s tongue lightly flit along lips and stops again, bringing his hand up to touch his own lips, it feels like he just had a taste of magic. They’re quiet, close. So close, Patrick can see the curl of his eyelashes. The twitch of his lips just before that lopsided smile appears. So close, Patrick’s breathing in Art’s every exhale and vice versa. 

“So you do like me?” Art whispers. 

Patrick smiles, “Yeah I fucking like you.”  

“What about your rules?” 

Patrick looks up as if pondering and then he shrugs. “Fuck em.” Before attempting to taste his lips again.  

Art moves forward on the edge of his chair. Patrick drags the whole chair with Art in it, closer. Art groans against his lips. Their thighs intertwined. Art uses his free hands to card his fingers into Patrick’s hair. He moans as Patrick deepens the kiss and it throws Patrick off so he pulls back and takes a deep inhale resting his forehead against Arts. 

”You know you’ve been making me break my rules since before we met,” Patrick murmurs, sitting back so he can see his face. 

“Really?” Art gazes at him, doesn’t take his fingers from Patrick’s hair. “How?”

“I don’t watch clips before I work with someone for the first time. But I did for you.”

Art grins, “what did you think?”

Patrick brushes his thumb along Art’s Adam’s apple. “You’re talented. Made my jaded self believe the fantasy.”  

Art laughs. “Oh really? Thats such high praise coming from you.” Patrick can feel the vibration of his voice, through his fingertips. He wants to feel all over him.

Art takes a moment to rub his eyes reminding Patrick he’s sleepy and should get some rest.

 “You’re gonna hate it…But I watch you all the time. The night before we met I feel like I spent all day in bed watching you and doing other things… I probably psyched myself out,” Art says. 

”Naughty. Is it a fetish? You obsessed with my big cock?” Patrick smirks. 

Art nods. “And your smile.” 

That’s what makes Patrick have to break eye contact, his skin heating up. Art cups his cheek and chuckles softly. “What is your fantasy, Patrick Zweig? What do you like in real life?” 

“Real life?”

“Mmhm. Outside of porn.”

Stefan coughs mid snore and Patrick startles he’d forgotten Stefan entirely. He looks over to see him stretching. Eyes still squeezed shut. 

Art smiles and gets to his feet. So close, he might as well be straddling Patrick. “You can tell me later. Im gonna take a nap in your bed before you change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t.” Patrick says.

Art brushes his fingers through Patricks hair. “I wouldn’t either.”

Patrick watches as he walks in the bedroom. Thinks about just keeping him forever.

Stefan wakes just moments later. “Ah yes! food!” he says excitedly and he gets up for the bathroom before joining Patrick at the kitchen table to partake in the bagels.

He’s still pretty bitter about what happened the night before. “I can’t believe I fell for that bullshit. You warned me about him and everything.” Stefan snaps. “I thought it’d be one job and then I’d be more than solid on a down payment for my own place. Did he tell you what—?” Stefan looks around. “Wait where is he? You didn’t send him home did you?”

“No… no he’s uh… he’s taking a nap.” Patrick doesn’t mean to but he glances in the direction of his bedroom.

Stefan smirks. “Oh… well then… someone got lucky…” he nudges Patrick with his elbow.

“Shut up, man. Of course not, he was high out of his mind.”

“And he's got a little crush on you. He asked me everything about you on set, it’s basically all we talked about,” Stefan teases. “Now it makes sense. I woke up to go to the bathroom and I was all alone. You two aren’t slick.”

“Yeah okay… okay… shush…” Patrick says grinning in spite of himself, his skin heating up. “You made it so I had to bring him here so why don’t you go back to telling me why I needed to rush out and get you at 3 in the morning again.”

Apparently the situation was a lot more dire than Art let on, at least in Stefan’s eyes. “They were grabbing us… especially him. Even after we said no and told them to stop. They acted like we were toys forced to do whatever and the guys that were getting aggressive were doing it in front of everyone and not a single person said anything to stop it. That’s when I realized we were in real fucking trouble. Those rich fuckers would do whatever they wanted and if anything happened to us they wouldn’t even miss a round of golf.” Stefan explains quietly. 

“What about Tanner?”

“What about him?” Stefan snaps. “I called him. I texted him to come get us. I told him it was fucked. Mind you, even if he didn’t give a fuck about me he’s real fucking possessive over him so I figured he’d be decent. But no. He didn’t respond. Didn’t say shit till fucking 6 am. Something like… I heard you guys got too high and paranoid and broke the contract. Like what…? Fuck you. I was high but I know I wasn’t being paranoid.” 

Patrick grinds his teeth through the whole story. It makes him even more determined to move Art out today. “Yeah Im down,” Stefan agrees. “My car’s still parked over in front of his place, of course if I see him you might have to restrain me from going in there to curse him the fuck out.” 

“If I see him I might do worse.”

Patrick likes the plan. It feels so much better than helplessly watching Art repeat Patrick’s mistakes. They wait till late afternoon to go to Tanner’s place. They all shower and clean up and Patrick tries to be normal about how much he wants to kiss Art again. He’ll have more than enough time for that, he can be normal for a little while in front of Stefan. He’s excited and anxious at the same time. He can’t remember the last time he liked someone like this outside of Tashi who could always go home at the end of the night. What if they aren’t compatible living together? What if he ruins it with all his…anxieties or whatever he’s got going on in his head?

Before they leave for Tanners, Stefan puts on the outfit he wore last night. Art puts on his fitted jeans but keeps Patrick’s hoodie. When they get to Tanner's place Patrick goes inside because he really wants Tanner to know that  not only is Art leaving his grip, but that he’s coming to stay with Patrick of all people. He wants it to sting. But the asshole isn’t even there. And that’s when Patrick realizes that part doesn’t fucking matter. 

Tanner doesn’t fucking matter at all.

The house is exactly how Patrick remembers it, massive. Art has his own room, different than the one Patrick stayed in. Patrick feels a little bad because that’s not what he’s offering. It’s not that Patrick doesn’t have the money for a bigger place, it’s just that he’s comfortable in his building, right in the heart of the city with his friends nearby. But he’s heard rumors of a bigger apartment possibly opening up in his building. A three bedroom. He might consider that if Art decides to stay long. Something nags in the back of Patrick’s mind, maybe he never has to leave.

They take trips, in and out of the house, emptying the room of Art’s clothing, his album collection which includes every single Michael Jackson album and a lot of other Motown and classic Soul music. He’s got tons of photos with the same handful of friends from college, Patrick feels a lump in his throat as he pauses on a framed picture of a giddy 8 year blonde with a crooked smile and braces and an equally giddy older woman, Art’s grandma. Both of them in oversized t-shirts featuring the man himself (Arts t-shirt practically taking up his whole body length). Patrick smiles to himself and holds it up to Art, “Can’t forget this.” 

“Oh god, no, don't look at that,” Art says. Grabbing it and holding it to his chest, his cheeks getting pink. “I was a weird looking kid.”

Patrick knows he’s a mess because all he wants to do is call him beautiful so he closes his mouth before he gives it all away.

Stefan looks over. “Okay well now I gotta see it.” 

Art takes some convincing before he hands it over. 

“Oh my god dude! No way…you went to a Michael Jackson concert??” 

+

It’s a long day but they clean the room out before Tanner gets home and then the three of them park their three separate cars at Patrick’s building and go get tapas for dinner. It’s crowded again but they get a little extra space with Stefan present. Conversation of course comes back to the business. Art and Stefan tell Patrick about how their shoot went, “it was good, we sold that shit and had fun doing it, but those fucking awful school uniforms,” Stefan laughs.  

“They were hot,” Patrick grins.

“We hated them,” Art chimes in giggling. “So uncomfortable.”

“Like how can the fabric be too starchy and too smooth but also too scratchy, man, like pick one,” Stefan groans. 

Patrick laughs, he should have been able to do this with them weeks ago. He tells them about his shoot with Chase. Explains his conspiracy about Tanner to which they both agree that it’s very likely that Tanner was trying to mess with the shoot.  

Art brings up the myth of fluffers, “I thought they’d be everywhere when I got into the business.” 

Patrick and Stefan laugh. “Production won't even splurge on a second meal when the shoot runs long. As if they would waste money on someone whose sole job it was to keep people hard.” 

That's when they go down the rabbit hole of other porn set myths. They drink 5$ margaritas, eat till they're stuffed and talk even longer, it feels like one of those nights Patrick will remember when he’s old. 

Stefan helps get a few of Art’s necessities out of his car before he drives home. Patrick feels wickedly good when Art gets a phone call from Tanner when they get in. He’s demanding to know where Art is. He almost asks Art to put it on speaker just so he can gleefully listen to the sound of Tanner losing control.

Art is a little bit shaken by the call. “I didn’t even tell him I wanted new management yet. He kept telling me he was sorry about last night and begging me to come home. It almost sounded like he was crying.”

Patrick is careful not to sound too happy about that. “How about we worry about it in the morning. I’m tired of talking about work. What about you?” 

“Yeah,” Art agrees. The pullout sofa is still open in the living room and Art kneels on it. His stuff is scattered about the living room in bags and boxes on the floor and almost every available hard surface. “Should we clean up?” Art asks. “Or watch movie or something else… ” he gazes at Patrick as he settles on the bed. The television is on in the background, some random late night sitcom. 

“Or you could show me how to moonwalk?” Patrick suggests as he gets on the pull out next to him.

“Just no space in your apartment. You should remind me later when we’re outside,” Art’s tone is soft, playful.

“Same thing you said last time.” Patrick laughs. “I don't think you can do it.” He sits up on his knees, closing the space between them. 

”I can so do it,” Art says, with a teasing shove. Patrick reaches for his waist and draws him closer. 

“You stand so close to me all the time. But I notice you don’t always like it when people touch you.” Art asks, gently. Patrick is wrong footed again. 

“You noticed that?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“Huh,” Patrick hums. “Depends on who’s touching.”

“Can I?” 

“Whenever you want.” 

Art takes that opportunity to curl his fingers into Patrick’s hair and kiss him. The kiss lingers long enough to feel the heat spread everywhere in his body. His balls suddenly aching. His body taut like Art is drawing the life force out of him. Patrick’s had quite a few margaritas but he’s certain thats not what’s making his head buzz.

He settles back and lazily teases Art’s t-shirt up, revealing a strip of soft, smooth skin and the fine blonde hair of his happy trail. He’s wearing Patrick’s shirt, the same one he wore to bed last night. He’s got plenty of clothing here now and he’s still in Patrick’s shirt and sweatpants. 

“You look nice in my clothes.” 

Art bites his lip. “I look even better with nothing on.” 

Patrick can’t help giggling and Art covers his face. “Sorry. Porn brain.” He murmurs, sheepishly behind his hands. “It’s your fault. You’re so hot you make my head feel fuzzy. You’re letting me stay here with you but your place is like one room. It’s exactly like you trapped me in a porn plot.” 

“If it were porn I’d only have one bed, rookie,” Patrick smirks, hes teasing his hands along Arts abs. His own cock already filling out.

“You only have one real bed. And if I wanna sleep in it we’d have to fuck.” Art grins. 

“Would we?”

“Thats how it works.”

“Okay.” Patrick tugs at Art’s t-shirt and Art helps him pull it over his head and they kiss again. Art is really good at kissing, Patrick could do it all night, though he’d need plenty of breaks because of how light headed it gets him. He nearly gets dizzy climbing off the sofa bed to grab lubricant from the bedroom. He’s really fucking hard but Rebel sits up whining, at her empty water bowl which he filled right when they got back from tapas. “Can’t you see daddy is trying to get lucky?” Patrick mumbles and Art laughs. 

“I don’t think she cares.” 

Patrick agrees so he takes a pit stop to refill it before rejoining Art on the bed. 

It’s nothing like porn. Of course not. Not really anyway. There was hardly anything artificial about what happened when they were on set together. But here, at least they have privacy. Instead of a camera zooming in on the size of Patrick’s cock, it’s just Art… teasing it out with a deft hand and playing with it. He’s looking at Patrick like he’s trying to figure out the perfect place and way to touch him so Patrick takes hold, showing him, guiding him. Until Art takes over, pushing him down onto the bed and crawling on top of him. 

“You never said what you like… bottom or top?”

Patrick suddenly feels his heart hammering away in his chest. “Why? You wanna fuck me, pretty boy?” It’s almost embarrassing how badly Patrick wants him to say yes. 

“I wanna do everything with you.” 

It’s stupid the way Patrick’s throat aches for the idea of Art taking the time to think of shit like this. No one has ever asked Patrick his preference. They look at his dick size and just beg to be filled. Which he definitely enjoys it’s just… every once in a while he wants someone else to do the work.

”Yeah… I uh… I want you on top.” Patrick says, gazing at him, “that okay?”

“Oh yes,” Art says eagerly, he strokes Patrick’s thighs lightly and takes his time with it. Patrick spread out on the bed in front of him. No rush to meet any shooting deadlines. No eager director telling them not to drag it out. Not that it would matter. Art is just in it. He’s got the prettiest fingers, girl fingers. Long, deft and capable. All lubed up he eases them slowly inside of Patrick to open him up. One, two, three. Patrick is moaning, not unlike how he would on set. 

Art is watching him, almost like he’s mesmerized. “That feel nice?” He asks, as if Patrick’s moans mean nothing. 

“Mm yess.” Patrick groans. 

“No porn sounds, no faking it… I wanna know what you really like,” Art says softly, pretty fingers curling inside him, brushing along the smooth muscle of his prostate. Patrick arches up involuntarily with a gasp. 

“God as if I could fake it with you,” Patrick whispers.  

Art smiles, like he’s shy and then brushes that spot again, eliciting another real moan and then another. “Right there,” he whispers like he’s making a note to himself. Jesus. Patrick is already leaking, precum rolling down the tip.   He knows now that he won’t last. He can stay hard on set all day but two minutes of Art teasing his prostate, pretty eyes glued to Patrick’s face and he’s trembling, thrusting up into nothing. He reaches for his cock but Art won’t let him touch. 

“Not yet.” He whispers and he plants kisses on Patrick’s lips that just makes Patrick feel more desperate. And then slowly… oh so wickedly slow… he eases his fingers out and lubes himself up, his pretty cock all ready and weepy at the tip just like Patrick’s. Patrick licks his lips. Watching as Art eases inside where his fingers once were. They both start groaning. 

The room is quiet, cozy, heated, a mess of Arts things scattered throughout. It’s dim, the only light coming from his bedroom and the television. The canned laughter sounds from whatever sitcom is playing, the springs in the bed lightly squeaking as Art moves. Both of them breathing heavy. Patrick commits it all to memory. Art with his golden curls haloed around his head, he looks like an angel half cloaked in the blue light. An angel with the prettiest face and the perfect ass, Patrick squeezes his ass as Art shifts, sliding deeper inside him.

”Is it okay? Does it feel good?” Art keeps his gaze, his eyes all sparkly, breathing ragged. 

“Mmm fuck yes.” Patrick reassures him. “God you’d make a decent top, you’re so fucking—-nnngh —“ he takes a sharp breath as Art switches the angle. “So fucking patient with it… fuck,”  He breathes. 

“It’s cause I come too fast,” Art whines. 

“Mm, yeah?” Thinking it’s probably for the best. Patrick is already half done. 

“Mmhm. And everyone wants to watch my ass get filled with dick—and mmmh—“

”No, understandable.” Patrick groans. 

 “And they want to hear me moan like a— a— fuck— keep your hand— yeah right there—“ Art comes across as soft and maybe a little shy but Patrick is realizing he knows what he likes and has no problem making Patrick do it for him. “Grab me here, touch right there… do it faster…no harder…” a soft groan. “yeah just like that.”

Patrick loves that shit. Thinks he might get addicted. (He's already addicted).

“You do moan like a fucking girl.” Patrick runs his fingers through blonde curls.  “Listen to you moaning so much while you're inside me. God you’re gonna make me lose it.”  

“Shhh, stop talking porny,” Art says all breathy.

Patrick laughs. “Fuck, am I?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“Hazard of the job.”

It’s no time at all before they’re both lost in it. Art’s pace picking up as he gets more needy, chasing his own pleasure. Selfish and hungry. He gets even more whiny and breathy. Patrick is dazed just watching him get lost in it. So worked up, it’s like he’s forgotten how to be self conscious. No decorum whatsoever. Just losing it in how good Patrick feels, his solid cock sliding in and out rapidly making Patrick go dumb on it. 

“Are you close?” Art moans. He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Yes…, just —fuck—keep going—keep doing what you— what you need to— ah god damn— you’re so…so…” Patrick groans, he has to grip the sheets as Art takes hold of him. His body tensing, arching up. Fuck, this alone is gonna push him over. 

“‘m gonna come. Feelsgoodright?” Art slurs, unsteadily he starts jerking Patrick’s dick and almost immediately, “ahhh fuck—-“  Patrick groans low and deep, unloading. Glimmering ropes splatter in the space between them, bits of it splashing on Art’s cheek  and in his hair.

”Fuck,” Art whines. “Oh holy—- hnnnngh—mm coming,“ Art whines, stilling inside him. Patrick grips his waist and holds him tight, keeping him balls deep, clenching on his cock until Art empties every last drop of it deep inside him. And a little longer after that… before he finally releases his bruising grip on Art’s hips.   

“Mmhh fucking perfect.”

“Holy shit,” Art breathes as he slips out and collapses onto Patrick’s chest.

“Careful church boy.” Patrick says, carding his fingers through his soft blonde curls.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never gonna let anything go,” Patrick says, gently gripping his bottom. 

“You’re so hot… god you know what I was thinking?” Art  leans over his chest for a kiss. “I wanna ride you…” Art hums against his lips.

Patrick, feels his cock twitch as if it’s already ready for another round. God. “Yeah um… yes…that…please.” He stammers and Art grins and kisses his jaw before making his way back to Patrick’s lips. 

“Mm don't think I’ll ever get tired of that.” Patrick mumbles. 

 “Me either.” Art presses a kiss to his cheek and starts to push himself up.

“Where are you going?” 

“Shower.” He climbs off the bed. 

Patrick sighs at the separation and watches him, he stops in the kitchen for water, butt naked in Patrick’s apartment, going through cabinets like he owns the place, just doing whatever. Not one single ounce of etiquette or shame and Patrick is in love with him.

Art cleans up in the shower. Patrick doesn’t take a full shower, he just wipes down for now. He's a morning routine kinda guy. He changes the sheets on the pull out just in case but when Art comes out of the bathroom he invites him into the bedroom. “You can take your own space if you need it but—“

Art doesn’t even wait to hear the rest, he climbs into the bed and flops down next to Patrick. 

“We can talk to my manager after I get back from my shoot tomorrow.” Patrick tells him.

“What are you shooting?”

“Gang bang.”

“Like you’re gonna fuck a bunch of twinks?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Can I come?”

“To make sure I behave?”

“To watch you use it.”

“Freak.”

Art grins, "I got to do a gang bang once, four guys. I wore girls lingerie.” 

“Keep going.”

“I took two in my mouth while some guy fucked my ass and then they took turns—” 

“Okay stop actually…”  Patrick scoots closer, “unless you want to take another shower.”

 Art hums like he’s thinking it might be worth it… but he relaxes into it when Patrick wraps an arm around him. He can smell all his products on Art's body. Apparently he hasn’t unpacked his bathroom things yet. Or he just wants to use Patrick’s. Which is okay, its fine. Better than fine, honestly. Whatever he wants, Patrick would let him have it. Either way it feels so perfect falling asleep beside him.

+

It turns out Patrick gave Tanner too much credit. He wasn’t the mastermind behind the whole shooting schedule debacle.  It was truly just a coincidence. All Tanner did was take that as an opportunity to fan the flames with Art claiming Patrick pulled out of the shoot on purpose. 

Turns out the way out of Art’s contract is to give 30 days notice and pay a 1000$ fine for breaching the two year contract. A fine which Patrick insists on paying for him. 

“Your money should go to your grandma.” Patrick says. Which gets him a yummy kiss. 

Basically Art only has to deal with Tanner for another month and Patrick’s manager has him lined up with one of her colleagues for after. Patrick joins him when he has to go back to set. Maybe he just wants the confrontation but it’s not what he expects. Tanner looks so dejected, he's not even dressed in some slick three thousand dollar suit. He’s not even wearing hair gel. Patrick almost feels bad for him. Almost. Tanner acts contrite, apologetic about the party. Telling Art about all the things they can accomplish if he stays.

“I’m talking about a real opportunities, maybe launch some subscription content. Maybe a transition to Hollywood. And you won't be young forever. I could get you into directing or producing. Maybe some dilf content if you keep your looks. Think about it.”

Art is so sweet and polite. He says he’ll think about it. Patrick will make sure he doesnt. Tanner saves all his vitriol for when he gets a moment alone with Patrick.

“Lemme guess, you’re sleeping with him. Is that why you’re here? To make sure you don’t lose him the same way you found him?”

“None of your business actually.” Patrick says coldly. “But even if I was I’m a fucking professional.” 

“Nothing you did on that set with him was professional. I knew from the moment the director yelled cut on that first shot that you’d ruin everything like you always do. Proud of yourself?”

“Yep,” Patrick says.

“Great, have fun tanking his career like you did your own.”

“Yeah I won’t be managing him, so I won’t be responsible for where his career goes. But you’re right…he’s a star and you’re still begging for a second chance so even you must know he’s headed to the stratosphere. The only thing I will take credit for is making sure that after the next 30 days…you will never fucking speak to him or Stefan or anyone I know and work with ever again.”

Tanner huffs a laugh. “Fucking loser.”

“Maybe, but it takes one to know one. Oh and we posted about what you did with the party on the message boards so good luck with your career.”

Tanner actually looks worried for a moment. Then he schools his expression. “Yeah whatever. Only washed up old porn stars use those message boards looking for management. Plenty of fresh blood at the colleges. Right?”

“Oh don’t worry, it's all over Facebook too. Anonymous posts on all the back to school pages in the state.”

Patrick actually feels giddy when Tanner starts turning red. Hurling out baseless threats (“I can fucking sue you for libel”, “You’ll never work in this industry again”, “I will get you blacklisted.”) before storming from the room on the phone with his colleagues. 

He only realizes he was shaking afterwards. He settles down, relieved. Thirty days go by and none of Tanner's threats come to pass. Admittedly even after all this time Patrick was still a little scared of his influence— but maybe that’s always been a bluff too. Like everything else about him. 

Art’s bookings are infrequent towards the end of his time with Tanner but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. The video the two of them shot has gone insanely viral and suddenly the director is circling back, offering double what he originally promised for the five picture deal. Tanner tries one last ditch effort, claiming that it was his plan all along to get Art more money, but Art tells him politely (but firmly) that he doesn’t plan to change his mind. 

On day 30, they celebrate by going dancing at the gay club with Tashi after watching her win at some pro tennis open.

Art thinks Tashi is the most beautiful talented girl hes ever met. He’s happy to join Patrick in complaining about how disappointing it is that she had a boyfriend. Tashi loves Art. Absolutely adores him. Especially the way it seems that he’s brightened Patrick’s personality. 

“You’re more fun…like you were a regular amount of fun before. Now you actually act 22 and not 82.” 

“Fuck off. His 80 year old grandma thinks I'm awesome.”

Tashi giggles, “Case in point.”

“What do you guys think?” Art asks coming out of the bathroom.

“Personally I wouldn’t wear that,” she nixes his sixth outfit in a row. She loves Art and she’s a little easier on him than Patrick but not much.

“Can you just pick for me?” Art asks.

“Oh my god, I'm not your mommy. You’re a professional porn star. You know what looks hot.”

Art looks to Patrick and he smirks. “Don’t bring me into it. I'm just glad I'm not the one being picked on for once.” 

“I’m not picking on you. Oh my god. Is it too much to ask for excellence in our club attire?” Tashi asks, a little smirk on her lips.

Art groans and flops down onto the sofa. “Just celebrate me without me.”

“Helpless,” Tashi grins, and then she goes to the discarded pile and pulls something together.

It’s only been 30 days living together and being together and its like they were meant to live together in another life. It's messy and sexy with only the slightest bit of growing pains but everything is worth it for all the color Art brings into his life.

It’s not like all of his problems have been solved. Not even a little bit. But now he’s not just going to work and coming home, he’s not as fixated on doing everything the right way. Now he’s not just going through the motions. 

They go out to the gay club and when Michael Jackson “Don’t stop til you get enough” cuts in remixed to the ever present thumping club beat, Patrick just knows Art must’ve stopped by the DJ booth with a request. Patrick’s grinning as it plays. “I love this song!” They grab their drinks and hurry to the dance floor. And they stay there all night. Patrick feels young and in love and very, very happy.