ShizIdeo

Jason was hired by Nick for the price of a single crate of beer to play ambassador for his family’s craft beer business. He’d already asked Nick and his family what on earth their reason was.

Nick only grinned.

“They saw you chug that beer like it was holy water back on that camping trip. C’mon, I’ll bump it up to five crates.”

Jason shot back immediately.

“Nope. What is this, a beer flex? One crate’s enough. Just tell me when and where.”

When the day finally came,

Jason showed up expecting nothing more than a quick poster shoot. What he got instead—straight from the gum-popping lips of the studio photographer—was the bombshell that this was actually a sexy calendar shoot.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. There has to be a mistake.”

“If you’re Jason Kolchek, then no mistake,” the man replied, voice easy as his fingers worked the tripod. A faint trace of spearmint lingered in the air with every word.

Jason cursed under his breath, half tempted to storm out and strangle Nick before anything else.

Great. All this for a single crate of beer. Should’ve asked for whiskey instead.

“Damn it… I should’ve taken the five.”

The photographer finally looked up from behind the camera.

“If that’s the problem… you can take all the ‘wages’ piled outside my room. I don’t drink.”

He smiled—and suddenly Jason’s legs refused to move.

Instead, he just nodded like an obedient fool, even though his mind was already racing toward the Kays’ place.

The photographer’s grin widened.

“Then shall we start?”

At that point… what the damn choice did he even have?

“Salim Othman,”

The man introduced himself casually, then gestured toward the back. “Go change into the sexy outfit we’ve prepared for the shoot.

Jason arched an eyebrow. “And… where exactly is ‘there’?”

“The room with your friend’s beer piled high. My bedroom. Feel free to use it.”

Trust me, Salim…

You don’t want me using it ‘freely.’ Not with what’s in my head now.

Somehow, he found himself stepping into Salim’s “bedroom” anyway—though it was more like a storeroom.

A messy mattress was shoved against the far wall, a crumpled denim overall tossed across it. Jason paused in front of a metal clothes rack standing in the middle of the room. Hanging there was a single, slightly better-looking pair of overalls. He grabbed it and walked straight back out.

Salim raised an eyebrow as Jason reappeared, still fully dressed.

“We’re supposed to be shooting sexy, right?”

Jason said, the idea fresh out of his mouth. “So… what do you think about snapping a few shots while I change? Just… y’know, just in case.”

Salim met his eyes, paused mid-chew, then let a slow, sly smile spread across his face.

“That sounds good. Let’s do it.”

He slid behind the camera, muttering under his breath,

“Might even end up with something truly sexy that way.”

Jason, even though he’d been the one to suggest it, froze on the spot. He dropped the blue overalls onto a chair and perched awkwardly on a wicker seat draped with white cloth, surrounded by random props that looked like they belonged in a barley field.

“Alright,” Salim said, voice deep and smooth. “Look this way.”

And Jason followed without a second thought.

Even through the lens, the photographer’s eyes followed him, and a flutter of nervousness ran through him. It felt as if Salim’s gaze would never leave him, even as he was about to undress.

“So, which piece do you want to take off first, Jason?”

Hearing his own name roll off Salim’s lips like that sent a shiver across his skin.

It’s just professional talk. Just a photography thing. That’s all.

Jason tried to steady himself—but it barely helped.

“Maybe… guide me a bit? I’ve got no clue about posing,”

Even though all the camera equipment stood between them, Jason still felt his mind go blank under that man’s gaze. So he tossed the burden of thinking back at him, as a little payback.

“Sure.”

Salim replied with a chuckle, tinged with fondness at Jason’s nervousness. “Let’s start with the T-shirt… then keep it on those ‘tight arms’ for a shot. How does that sound?”

The teasing glint in his eyes nearly made Jason’s heart skip a beat. His palms grew slick with sweat as he gripped the hem of his gray AC/DC tee.

All I have to do is lift it up!

That’s it! Nothing difficult…

“Okay… I’m taking it off now.”

He swore, trying to signal the photographer with the most casual voice he could do.

Jason drew in a breath and slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on the camera lens.

A flat, sculpted abdomen was revealed, each defined line and curve accentuated by his quick, involuntary breaths.

“Just like that… Great,” Salim said.

The shutter clicked. Salim lowered the camera, gestured to him.

“Now tilt your head. Eyes on the bottle.”

Jason gave in at once. He couldn’t help it—his eyes followed Salim anyway, whether or not he gestured.

So much for being a proper model. I can’t even manage stillness!

“Relax, You’re too tense,”

Salim whispered, velvet tone teasing.

He stepped out from behind the camera, closing the small space between them until he stood just in front of Jason—shirt half-loosened, breath catching in small, uneven gasps.

“Want me to assist?”

A large, calloused hand lightly brushed against Jason’s arm, asking permission.

Of course, Jason had already given him far more than consent.

Seeing no protest, Salim adjusted the position of his arm, sliding it a little higher. The hem of Jason’s tee rose above his chest.

Jason’s breath hitched as that warm palm skimmed the curve of his chest by accident,

…or perhaps not.

“Sexy shoots aren’t just about the pose,”

Salim said, his voice professional yet low, brushing close to Jason’s ear, spearmint breath warm against his cheek.

“It’s about the mood.”

Salim’s gaze drifted downward, his deliberate finger tracing the tattoo along Jason’s arm. “Your mood… right now.”

“I…” Jason bit his lip hard. “You’re killing my focus.”

“Good,” the photographer whispered, teasing.

“That’s exactly the mood I want from you.”

Salim leaned back just enough to study Jason like a canvas. “Hmm. Something’s missing…”

Then his charcoal eyes locked on Jason’s mouth. He lifted Jason’s chin, thumb brushing the seam of his lips with maddening slowness.

Jason froze for a moment, mind blank, as if the whole world had stopped spinning.

“Open your mouth for me.”

The command was soft—but left no room for refusal.

Damn it!

Jason swallowed hard.

For some reason, in front of this man, his body responded effortlessly, offering no resistance.

His lips parted slightly at the command, before he could even think.

Salim’s grin turned feral. He dragged his thumb across Jason’s parted lips, lingering as if putting the final stroke on a masterpiece. Every movement was entirely under the photographer’s control.

“…Perfect,” he said at last, stepping back toward his camera.

The shutter fired again and again, filling the room with sound that barely masked the heat simmering and flooding quietly within the studio.

Jason felt it—Salim’s eyes never left him. The camera clicked on, but those eyes were already devouring his skin bare, savoring every inch deeper than the studio lights ever touched.

Screw the beer—one crate, five crates, or every damn crate Nick could throw at him,

when the real ‘wages’ for this over-the-deal job stood right there behind the lens, smiling back at him knowingly.

And it seemed the photographer, who’d accepted the beer as his wages despite never drinking—was clearly thinking the exact same thing.

⸻

END

A short fic that written from a challenge in Twitter (Alcohol / Oral Fixation / Model (Spicy) / “Open your mouth for me”) back in January 2024, then grew into a finished piece for New Year 2025 gift to my dear friend.

Jason was hired by Nick for the price of a single crate of beer to play ambassador for his family’s craft beer business. He’d already asked Nick and his family what on earth their reason was.

Nick only grinned.

“They saw you chug that beer like it was holy water back on that camping trip. C’mon, I’ll bump it up to five crates.”

Jason shot back immediately.

“Nope. What is this, a beer flex? One crate’s enough. Just tell me when and where.”

When the day finally came,

Jason showed up expecting nothing more than a quick poster shoot. What he got instead—straight from the gum-popping lips of the studio photographer—was the bombshell that this was actually a sexy calendar shoot.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. There has to be a mistake.”

“If you’re Jason Kolchek, then no mistake,” the man replied, voice easy as his fingers worked the tripod. A faint trace of spearmint lingered in the air with every word.

Jason cursed under his breath, half tempted to storm out and strangle Nick before anything else.

Great. All this for a single crate of beer. Should’ve asked for whiskey instead.

“Damn it… I should’ve taken the five.”

The photographer finally looked up from behind the camera.

“If that’s the problem… you can take all the ‘wages’ piled outside my room. I don’t drink.”

He smiled—and suddenly Jason’s legs refused to move.

Instead, he just nodded like an obedient fool, even though his mind was already racing toward the Kays’ place.

The photographer’s grin widened.

“Then shall we start?”

At that point… what the damn choice did he even have?

“Salim Othman,”

The man introduced himself casually, then gestured toward the back. “Go change into the sexy outfit we’ve prepared for the shoot.

Jason arched an eyebrow. “And… where exactly is ‘there’?”

“The room with your friend’s beer piled high. My bedroom. Feel free to use it.”

Trust me, Salim…

You don’t want me using it ‘freely.’ Not with what’s in my head now.

Somehow, he found himself stepping into Salim’s “bedroom” anyway—though it was more like a storeroom.

A messy mattress was shoved against the far wall, a crumpled denim overall tossed across it. Jason paused in front of a metal clothes rack standing in the middle of the room. Hanging there was a single, slightly better-looking pair of overalls. He grabbed it and walked straight back out.

Salim raised an eyebrow as Jason reappeared, still fully dressed.

“We’re supposed to be shooting sexy, right?”

Jason said, the idea fresh out of his mouth. “So… what do you think about snapping a few shots while I change? Just… y’know, just in case.”

Salim met his eyes, paused mid-chew, then let a slow, sly smile spread across his face.

“That sounds good. Let’s do it.”

He slid behind the camera, muttering under his breath,

“Might even end up with something truly sexy that way.”

Jason, even though he’d been the one to suggest it, froze on the spot. He dropped the blue overalls onto a chair and perched awkwardly on a wicker seat draped with white cloth, surrounded by random props that looked like they belonged in a barley field.

“Alright,” Salim said, voice deep and smooth. “Look this way.”

And Jason followed without a second thought.

Even through the lens, the photographer’s eyes followed him, and a flutter of nervousness ran through him. It felt as if Salim’s gaze would never leave him, even as he was about to undress.

“So, which piece do you want to take off first, Jason?”

Hearing his own name roll off Salim’s lips like that sent a shiver across his skin.

It’s just professional talk. Just a photography thing. That’s all.

Jason tried to steady himself—but it barely helped.

“Maybe… guide me a bit? I’ve got no clue about posing,”

Even though all the camera equipment stood between them, Jason still felt his mind go blank under that man’s gaze. So he tossed the burden of thinking back at him, as a little payback.

“Sure.”

Salim replied with a chuckle, tinged with fondness at Jason’s nervousness. “Let’s start with the T-shirt… then keep it on those ‘tight arms’ for a shot. How does that sound?”

The teasing glint in his eyes nearly made Jason’s heart skip a beat. His palms grew slick with sweat as he gripped the hem of his gray AC/DC tee.

All I have to do is lift it up!

That’s it! Nothing difficult…

“Okay… I’m taking it off now.”

He swore, trying to signal the photographer with the most casual voice he could do.

Jason drew in a breath and slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on the camera lens.

A flat, sculpted abdomen was revealed, each defined line and curve accentuated by his quick, involuntary breaths.

“Just like that… Great,” Salim said.

The shutter clicked. Salim lowered the camera, gestured to him.

“Now tilt your head. Eyes on the bottle.”

Jason gave in at once. He couldn’t help it—his eyes followed Salim anyway, whether or not he gestured.

So much for being a proper model. I can’t even manage stillness!

“Relax, You’re too tense,”

Salim whispered, velvet tone teasing.

He stepped out from behind the camera, closing the small space between them until he stood just in front of Jason—shirt half-loosened, breath catching in small, uneven gasps.

“Want me to assist?”

A large, calloused hand lightly brushed against Jason’s arm, asking permission.

Of course, Jason had already given him far more than consent.

Seeing no protest, Salim adjusted the position of his arm, sliding it a little higher. The hem of Jason’s tee rose above his chest.

Jason’s breath hitched as that warm palm skimmed the curve of his chest by accident,

…or perhaps not.

“Sexy shoots aren’t just about the pose,”

Salim said, his voice professional yet low, brushing close to Jason’s ear, spearmint breath warm against his cheek.

“It’s about the mood.”

Salim’s gaze drifted downward, his deliberate finger tracing the tattoo along Jason’s arm. “Your mood… right now.”

“I…” Jason bit his lip hard. “You’re killing my focus.”

“Good,” the photographer whispered, teasing.

“That’s exactly the mood I want from you.”

Salim leaned back just enough to study Jason like a canvas. “Hmm. Something’s missing…”

Then his charcoal eyes locked on Jason’s mouth. He lifted Jason’s chin, thumb brushing the seam of his lips with maddening slowness.

Jason froze for a moment, mind blank, as if the whole world had stopped spinning.

“Open your mouth for me.”

The command was soft—but left no room for refusal.

Damn it!

Jason swallowed hard.

For some reason, in front of this man, his body responded effortlessly, offering no resistance.

His lips parted slightly at the command, before he could even think.

Salim’s grin turned feral. He dragged his thumb across Jason’s parted lips, lingering as if putting the final stroke on a masterpiece. Every movement was entirely under the photographer’s control.

“…Perfect,” he said at last, stepping back toward his camera.

The shutter fired again and again, filling the room with sound that barely masked the heat simmering and flooding quietly within the studio.

Jason felt it—Salim’s eyes never left him. The camera clicked on, but those eyes were already devouring his skin bare, savoring every inch deeper than the studio lights ever touched.

Screw the beer—one crate, five crates, or every damn crate Nick could throw at him,

when the real ‘wages’ for this over-the-deal job stood right there behind the lens, smiling back at him knowingly.

And it seemed the photographer, who’d accepted the beer as his wages despite never drinking—was clearly thinking the exact same thing.

⸻

END

A short fic that written from a challenge in Twitter (Alcohol / Oral Fixation / Model (Spicy) / “Open your mouth for me”) back in January 2024, then grew into a finished piece for New Year 2025 gift to my dear friend.

Jason was hired by Nick for the price of a single crate of beer to play ambassador for his family’s craft beer business. He’d already asked Nick and his family what on earth their reason was.

Nick only grinned.

“They saw you chug that beer like it was holy water back on that camping trip. C’mon, I’ll bump it up to five crates.”

Jason shot back immediately.

“Nope. What is this, a beer flex? One crate’s enough. Just tell me when and where.”

When the day finally came,

Jason showed up expecting nothing more than a quick poster shoot. What he got instead—straight from the gum-popping lips of the studio photographer—was the bombshell that this was actually a sexy calendar shoot.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. There has to be a mistake.”

“If you’re Jason Kolchek, then no mistake,” the man replied, voice easy as his fingers worked the tripod. A faint trace of spearmint lingered in the air with every word.

Jason cursed under his breath, half tempted to storm out and strangle Nick before anything else.

Great. All this for a single crate of beer. Should’ve asked for whiskey instead.

“Damn it… I should’ve taken the five.”

The photographer finally looked up from behind the camera.

“If that’s the problem… you can take all the ‘wages’ piled outside my room. I don’t drink.”

He smiled—and suddenly Jason’s legs refused to move.

Instead, he just nodded like an obedient fool, even though his mind was already racing toward the Kays’ place.

The photographer’s grin widened.

“Then shall we start?”

At that point… what the damn choice did he even have?

“Salim Othman,”

The man introduced himself casually, then gestured toward the back. “Go change into the sexy outfit we’ve prepared for the shoot.

Jason arched an eyebrow. “And… where exactly is ‘there’?”

“The room with your friend’s beer piled high. My bedroom. Feel free to use it.”

Trust me, Salim…

You don’t want me using it ‘freely.’ Not with what’s in my head now.

Somehow, he found himself stepping into Salim’s “bedroom” anyway—though it was more like a storeroom.

A messy mattress was shoved against the far wall, a crumpled denim overall tossed across it. Jason paused in front of a metal clothes rack standing in the middle of the room. Hanging there was a single, slightly better-looking pair of overalls. He grabbed it and walked straight back out.

Salim raised an eyebrow as Jason reappeared, still fully dressed.

“We’re supposed to be shooting sexy, right?”

Jason said, the idea fresh out of his mouth. “So… what do you think about snapping a few shots while I change? Just… y’know, just in case.”

Salim met his eyes, paused mid-chew, then let a slow, sly smile spread across his face.

“That sounds good. Let’s do it.”

He slid behind the camera, muttering under his breath,

“Might even end up with something truly sexy that way.”

Jason, even though he’d been the one to suggest it, froze on the spot. He dropped the blue overalls onto a chair and perched awkwardly on a wicker seat draped with white cloth, surrounded by random props that looked like they belonged in a barley field.

“Alright,” Salim said, voice deep and smooth. “Look this way.”

And Jason followed without a second thought.

Even through the lens, the photographer’s eyes followed him, and a flutter of nervousness ran through him. It felt as if Salim’s gaze would never leave him, even as he was about to undress.

“So, which piece do you want to take off first, Jason?”

Hearing his own name roll off Salim’s lips like that sent a shiver across his skin.

It’s just professional talk. Just a photography thing. That’s all.

Jason tried to steady himself—but it barely helped.

“Maybe… guide me a bit? I’ve got no clue about posing,”

Even though all the camera equipment stood between them, Jason still felt his mind go blank under that man’s gaze. So he tossed the burden of thinking back at him, as a little payback.

“Sure.”

Salim replied with a chuckle, tinged with fondness at Jason’s nervousness. “Let’s start with the T-shirt… then keep it on those ‘tight arms’ for a shot. How does that sound?”

The teasing glint in his eyes nearly made Jason’s heart skip a beat. His palms grew slick with sweat as he gripped the hem of his gray AC/DC tee.

All I have to do is lift it up!

That’s it! Nothing difficult…

“Okay… I’m taking it off now.”

He swore, trying to signal the photographer with the most casual voice he could do.

Jason drew in a breath and slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on the camera lens.

A flat, sculpted abdomen was revealed, each defined line and curve accentuated by his quick, involuntary breaths.

“Just like that… Great,” Salim said.

The shutter clicked. Salim lowered the camera, gestured to him.

“Now tilt your head. Eyes on the bottle.”

Jason gave in at once. He couldn’t help it—his eyes followed Salim anyway, whether or not he gestured.

So much for being a proper model. I can’t even manage stillness!

“Relax, You’re too tense,”

Salim whispered, velvet tone teasing.

He stepped out from behind the camera, closing the small space between them until he stood just in front of Jason—shirt half-loosened, breath catching in small, uneven gasps.

“Want me to assist?”

A large, calloused hand lightly brushed against Jason’s arm, asking permission.

Of course, Jason had already given him far more than consent.

Seeing no protest, Salim adjusted the position of his arm, sliding it a little higher. The hem of Jason’s tee rose above his chest.

Jason’s breath hitched as that warm palm skimmed the curve of his chest by accident,

…or perhaps not.

“Sexy shoots aren’t just about the pose,”

Salim said, his voice professional yet low, brushing close to Jason’s ear, spearmint breath warm against his cheek.

“It’s about the mood.”

Salim’s gaze drifted downward, his deliberate finger tracing the tattoo along Jason’s arm. “Your mood… right now.”

“I…” Jason bit his lip hard. “You’re killing my focus.”

“Good,” the photographer whispered, teasing.

“That’s exactly the mood I want from you.”

Salim leaned back just enough to study Jason like a canvas. “Hmm. Something’s missing…”

Then his charcoal eyes locked on Jason’s mouth. He lifted Jason’s chin, thumb brushing the seam of his lips with maddening slowness.

Jason froze for a moment, mind blank, as if the whole world had stopped spinning.

“Open your mouth for me.”

The command was soft—but left no room for refusal.

Damn it!

Jason swallowed hard.

For some reason, in front of this man, his body responded effortlessly, offering no resistance.

His lips parted slightly at the command, before he could even think.

Salim’s grin turned feral. He dragged his thumb across Jason’s parted lips, lingering as if putting the final stroke on a masterpiece. Every movement was entirely under the photographer’s control.

“…Perfect,” he said at last, stepping back toward his camera.

The shutter fired again and again, filling the room with sound that barely masked the heat simmering and flooding quietly within the studio.

Jason felt it—Salim’s eyes never left him. The camera clicked on, but those eyes were already devouring his skin bare, savoring every inch deeper than the studio lights ever touched.

Screw the beer—one crate, five crates, or every damn crate Nick could throw at him,

when the real ‘wages’ for this over-the-deal job stood right there behind the lens, smiling back at him knowingly.

And it seemed the photographer, who’d accepted the beer as his wages despite never drinking—was clearly thinking the exact same thing.

⸻

END

A short fic that written from a challenge in Twitter (Alcohol / Oral Fixation / Model (Spicy) / “Open your mouth for me”) back in January 2024, then grew into a finished piece for New Year 2025 gift to my dear friend.

Jason was hired by Nick for the price of a single crate of beer to play ambassador for his family’s craft beer business. He’d already asked Nick and his family what on earth their reason was.

Nick only grinned.

“They saw you chug that beer like it was holy water back on that camping trip. C’mon, I’ll bump it up to five crates.”

Jason shot back immediately.

“Nope. What is this, a beer flex? One crate’s enough. Just tell me when and where.”

When the day finally came,

Jason showed up expecting nothing more than a quick poster shoot. What he got instead—straight from the gum-popping lips of the studio photographer—was the bombshell that this was actually a sexy calendar shoot.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. There has to be a mistake.”

“If you’re Jason Kolchek, then no mistake,” the man replied, voice easy as his fingers worked the tripod. A faint trace of spearmint lingered in the air with every word.

Jason cursed under his breath, half tempted to storm out and strangle Nick before anything else.

Great. All this for a single crate of beer. Should’ve asked for whiskey instead.

“Damn it… I should’ve taken the five.”

The photographer finally looked up from behind the camera.

“If that’s the problem… you can take all the ‘wages’ piled outside my room. I don’t drink.”

He smiled—and suddenly Jason’s legs refused to move.

Instead, he just nodded like an obedient fool, even though his mind was already racing toward the Kays’ place.

The photographer’s grin widened.

“Then shall we start?”

At that point… what the damn choice did he even have?

“Salim Othman,”

The man introduced himself casually, then gestured toward the back. “Go change into the sexy outfit we’ve prepared for the shoot.

Jason arched an eyebrow. “And… where exactly is ‘there’?”

“The room with your friend’s beer piled high. My bedroom. Feel free to use it.”

Trust me, Salim…

You don’t want me using it ‘freely.’ Not with what’s in my head now.

Somehow, he found himself stepping into Salim’s “bedroom” anyway—though it was more like a storeroom.

A messy mattress was shoved against the far wall, a crumpled denim overall tossed across it. Jason paused in front of a metal clothes rack standing in the middle of the room. Hanging there was a single, slightly better-looking pair of overalls. He grabbed it and walked straight back out.

Salim raised an eyebrow as Jason reappeared, still fully dressed.

“We’re supposed to be shooting sexy, right?”

Jason said, the idea fresh out of his mouth. “So… what do you think about snapping a few shots while I change? Just… y’know, just in case.”

Salim met his eyes, paused mid-chew, then let a slow, sly smile spread across his face.

“That sounds good. Let’s do it.”

He slid behind the camera, muttering under his breath,

“Might even end up with something truly sexy that way.”

Jason, even though he’d been the one to suggest it, froze on the spot. He dropped the blue overalls onto a chair and perched awkwardly on a wicker seat draped with white cloth, surrounded by random props that looked like they belonged in a barley field.

“Alright,” Salim said, voice deep and smooth. “Look this way.”

And Jason followed without a second thought.

Even through the lens, the photographer’s eyes followed him, and a flutter of nervousness ran through him. It felt as if Salim’s gaze would never leave him, even as he was about to undress.

“So, which piece do you want to take off first, Jason?”

Hearing his own name roll off Salim’s lips like that sent a shiver across his skin.

It’s just professional talk. Just a photography thing. That’s all.

Jason tried to steady himself—but it barely helped.

“Maybe… guide me a bit? I’ve got no clue about posing,”

Even though all the camera equipment stood between them, Jason still felt his mind go blank under that man’s gaze. So he tossed the burden of thinking back at him, as a little payback.

“Sure.”

Salim replied with a chuckle, tinged with fondness at Jason’s nervousness. “Let’s start with the T-shirt… then keep it on those ‘tight arms’ for a shot. How does that sound?”

The teasing glint in his eyes nearly made Jason’s heart skip a beat. His palms grew slick with sweat as he gripped the hem of his gray AC/DC tee.

All I have to do is lift it up!

That’s it! Nothing difficult…

“Okay… I’m taking it off now.”

He swore, trying to signal the photographer with the most casual voice he could do.

Jason drew in a breath and slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on the camera lens.

A flat, sculpted abdomen was revealed, each defined line and curve accentuated by his quick, involuntary breaths.

“Just like that… Great,” Salim said.

The shutter clicked. Salim lowered the camera, gestured to him.

“Now tilt your head. Eyes on the bottle.”

Jason gave in at once. He couldn’t help it—his eyes followed Salim anyway, whether or not he gestured.

So much for being a proper model. I can’t even manage stillness!

“Relax, You’re too tense,”

Salim whispered, velvet tone teasing.

He stepped out from behind the camera, closing the small space between them until he stood just in front of Jason—shirt half-loosened, breath catching in small, uneven gasps.

“Want me to assist?”

A large, calloused hand lightly brushed against Jason’s arm, asking permission.

Of course, Jason had already given him far more than consent.

Seeing no protest, Salim adjusted the position of his arm, sliding it a little higher. The hem of Jason’s tee rose above his chest.

Jason’s breath hitched as that warm palm skimmed the curve of his chest by accident,

…or perhaps not.

“Sexy shoots aren’t just about the pose,”

Salim said, his voice professional yet low, brushing close to Jason’s ear, spearmint breath warm against his cheek.

“It’s about the mood.”

Salim’s gaze drifted downward, his deliberate finger tracing the tattoo along Jason’s arm. “Your mood… right now.”

“I…” Jason bit his lip hard. “You’re killing my focus.”

“Good,” the photographer whispered, teasing.

“That’s exactly the mood I want from you.”

Salim leaned back just enough to study Jason like a canvas. “Hmm. Something’s missing…”

Then his charcoal eyes locked on Jason’s mouth. He lifted Jason’s chin, thumb brushing the seam of his lips with maddening slowness.

Jason froze for a moment, mind blank, as if the whole world had stopped spinning.

“Open your mouth for me.”

The command was soft—but left no room for refusal.

Damn it!

Jason swallowed hard.

For some reason, in front of this man, his body responded effortlessly, offering no resistance.

His lips parted slightly at the command, before he could even think.

Salim’s grin turned feral. He dragged his thumb across Jason’s parted lips, lingering as if putting the final stroke on a masterpiece. Every movement was entirely under the photographer’s control.

“…Perfect,” he said at last, stepping back toward his camera.

The shutter fired again and again, filling the room with sound that barely masked the heat simmering and flooding quietly within the studio.

Jason felt it—Salim’s eyes never left him. The camera clicked on, but those eyes were already devouring his skin bare, savoring every inch deeper than the studio lights ever touched.

Screw the beer—one crate, five crates, or every damn crate Nick could throw at him,

when the real ‘wages’ for this over-the-deal job stood right there behind the lens, smiling back at him knowingly.

And it seemed the photographer, who’d accepted the beer as his wages despite never drinking—was clearly thinking the exact same thing.

⸻

END

A short fic that written from a challenge in Twitter (Alcohol / Oral Fixation / Model (Spicy) / “Open your mouth for me”) back in January 2024, then grew into a finished piece for New Year 2025 gift to my dear friend.

Jason was hired by Nick for the price of a single crate of beer to play ambassador for his family’s craft beer business. He’d already asked Nick and his family what on earth their reason was.

Nick only grinned.

“They saw you chug that beer like it was holy water back on that camping trip. C’mon, I’ll bump it up to five crates.”

Jason shot back immediately.

“Nope. What is this, a beer flex? One crate’s enough. Just tell me when and where.”

When the day finally came,

Jason showed up expecting nothing more than a quick poster shoot. What he got instead—straight from the gum-popping lips of the studio photographer—was the bombshell that this was actually a sexy calendar shoot.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. There has to be a mistake.”

“If you’re Jason Kolchek, then no mistake,” the man replied, voice easy as his fingers worked the tripod. A faint trace of spearmint lingered in the air with every word.

Jason cursed under his breath, half tempted to storm out and strangle Nick before anything else.

Great. All this for a single crate of beer. Should’ve asked for whiskey instead.

“Damn it… I should’ve taken the five.”

The photographer finally looked up from behind the camera.

“If that’s the problem… you can take all the ‘wages’ piled outside my room. I don’t drink.”

He smiled—and suddenly Jason’s legs refused to move.

Instead, he just nodded like an obedient fool, even though his mind was already racing toward the Kays’ place.

The photographer’s grin widened.

“Then shall we start?”

At that point… what the damn choice did he even have?

“Salim Othman,”

The man introduced himself casually, then gestured toward the back. “Go change into the sexy outfit we’ve prepared for the shoot.

Jason arched an eyebrow. “And… where exactly is ‘there’?”

“The room with your friend’s beer piled high. My bedroom. Feel free to use it.”

Trust me, Salim…

You don’t want me using it ‘freely.’ Not with what’s in my head now.

Somehow, he found himself stepping into Salim’s “bedroom” anyway—though it was more like a storeroom.

A messy mattress was shoved against the far wall, a crumpled denim overall tossed across it. Jason paused in front of a metal clothes rack standing in the middle of the room. Hanging there was a single, slightly better-looking pair of overalls. He grabbed it and walked straight back out.

Salim raised an eyebrow as Jason reappeared, still fully dressed.

“We’re supposed to be shooting sexy, right?”

Jason said, the idea fresh out of his mouth. “So… what do you think about snapping a few shots while I change? Just… y’know, just in case.”

Salim met his eyes, paused mid-chew, then let a slow, sly smile spread across his face.

“That sounds good. Let’s do it.”

He slid behind the camera, muttering under his breath,

“Might even end up with something truly sexy that way.”

Jason, even though he’d been the one to suggest it, froze on the spot. He dropped the blue overalls onto a chair and perched awkwardly on a wicker seat draped with white cloth, surrounded by random props that looked like they belonged in a barley field.

“Alright,” Salim said, voice deep and smooth. “Look this way.”

And Jason followed without a second thought.

Even through the lens, the photographer’s eyes followed him, and a flutter of nervousness ran through him. It felt as if Salim’s gaze would never leave him, even as he was about to undress.

“So, which piece do you want to take off first, Jason?”

Hearing his own name roll off Salim’s lips like that sent a shiver across his skin.

It’s just professional talk. Just a photography thing. That’s all.

Jason tried to steady himself—but it barely helped.

“Maybe… guide me a bit? I’ve got no clue about posing,”

Even though all the camera equipment stood between them, Jason still felt his mind go blank under that man’s gaze. So he tossed the burden of thinking back at him, as a little payback.

“Sure.”

Salim replied with a chuckle, tinged with fondness at Jason’s nervousness. “Let’s start with the T-shirt… then keep it on those ‘tight arms’ for a shot. How does that sound?”

The teasing glint in his eyes nearly made Jason’s heart skip a beat. His palms grew slick with sweat as he gripped the hem of his gray AC/DC tee.

All I have to do is lift it up!

That’s it! Nothing difficult…

“Okay… I’m taking it off now.”

He swore, trying to signal the photographer with the most casual voice he could do.

Jason drew in a breath and slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on the camera lens.

A flat, sculpted abdomen was revealed, each defined line and curve accentuated by his quick, involuntary breaths.

“Just like that… Great,” Salim said.

The shutter clicked. Salim lowered the camera, gestured to him.

“Now tilt your head. Eyes on the bottle.”

Jason gave in at once. He couldn’t help it—his eyes followed Salim anyway, whether or not he gestured.

So much for being a proper model. I can’t even manage stillness!

“Relax, You’re too tense,”

Salim whispered, velvet tone teasing.

He stepped out from behind the camera, closing the small space between them until he stood just in front of Jason—shirt half-loosened, breath catching in small, uneven gasps.

“Want me to assist?”

A large, calloused hand lightly brushed against Jason’s arm, asking permission.

Of course, Jason had already given him far more than consent.

Seeing no protest, Salim adjusted the position of his arm, sliding it a little higher. The hem of Jason’s tee rose above his chest.

Jason’s breath hitched as that warm palm skimmed the curve of his chest by accident,

…or perhaps not.

“Sexy shoots aren’t just about the pose,”

Salim said, his voice professional yet low, brushing close to Jason’s ear, spearmint breath warm against his cheek.

“It’s about the mood.”

Salim’s gaze drifted downward, his deliberate finger tracing the tattoo along Jason’s arm. “Your mood… right now.”

“I…” Jason bit his lip hard. “You’re killing my focus.”

“Good,” the photographer whispered, teasing.

“That’s exactly the mood I want from you.”

Salim leaned back just enough to study Jason like a canvas. “Hmm. Something’s missing…”

Then his charcoal eyes locked on Jason’s mouth. He lifted Jason’s chin, thumb brushing the seam of his lips with maddening slowness.

Jason froze for a moment, mind blank, as if the whole world had stopped spinning.

“Open your mouth for me.”

The command was soft—but left no room for refusal.

Damn it!

Jason swallowed hard.

For some reason, in front of this man, his body responded effortlessly, offering no resistance.

His lips parted slightly at the command, before he could even think.

Salim’s grin turned feral. He dragged his thumb across Jason’s parted lips, lingering as if putting the final stroke on a masterpiece. Every movement was entirely under the photographer’s control.

“…Perfect,” he said at last, stepping back toward his camera.

The shutter fired again and again, filling the room with sound that barely masked the heat simmering and flooding quietly within the studio.

Jason felt it—Salim’s eyes never left him. The camera clicked on, but those eyes were already devouring his skin bare, savoring every inch deeper than the studio lights ever touched.

Screw the beer—one crate, five crates, or every damn crate Nick could throw at him,

when the real ‘wages’ for this over-the-deal job stood right there behind the lens, smiling back at him knowingly.

And it seemed the photographer, who’d accepted the beer as his wages despite never drinking—was clearly thinking the exact same thing.

⸻

END

A short fic that written from a challenge in Twitter (Alcohol / Oral Fixation / Model (Spicy) / “Open your mouth for me”) back in January 2024, then grew into a finished piece for New Year 2025 gift to my dear friend.