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Fic: Jon and Spencer Make a Porno
Jon and Spencer Make a Porno
[Jon/Spencer, Pete/Patrick, Ryan/Brendon | 4800 words | NC-17]
"Think of it as, I don't know, donating plasma or something," Jon sighs.
VERY loosely based on the plot for the upcoming Kevin Smith film Zack and Miri Make a Porno. I really have no idea what the actual movie will be like, but it sounds awesome. I also, in no way, pretend to know a thing about the porn industry. (And I'd also like to apologize for making one of the Cab boys a fluffer. *hands*) Beta duties performed by the usual suspects,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shleemeri and adellyna.
It's all Jon's idea. Well, mostly. Spencer doesn't exactly put up a fight when Jon tells him he's found a way to make them some decent money, enough money that Spencer could get his student loans out of deferment and Jon could pay all of his rent for a change. The catch is that the money would be made by, um.
"Yeah, it's porn," Jon says, not quite looking Spencer in the eyes as he plays with the brown cardboard sleeve around his Starbucks cup (even on his days off, Jon can't seem to stay away from the place). "But look, the director's a good friend of Pete's. He's not skeezy or anything, he's just desperate for some new faces. Evidently a lot of guys have quit on him recently."
"Duh, it's fucking porn," Spencer shoots back, wanting to get up and leave. But the thought of all the messages from student loan companies waiting for him on his answering machine, coupled with the past due notices flooding in with the mail, keep him in his seat.
"Think of it as, I don't know, donating plasma or something." Jon sighs. "Look, it's only for three weeks. We get to split twenty grand, Spence. Twenty grand."
Spencer rubs a hand across his face. "You do realize we've never so much as kissed in our entire lives, right?" he asks softly. It's not like that between them, never has been. At least, that's what Spencer's always taught himself to believe, even when he goes through weird phases where he hates everyone who so much as takes Jon out for coffee.
Jon nods, and his hair falls into his eyes; Spencer wonders if they'll make him cut it for the shoot. "It doesn't matter, it's just a job. It's more money than either of us'll see in that short of a time." He finally looks up, grinning sheepishly. "I'm actually a decent lay, I swear."
Spencer kicks him under the table. He kind of wants to throw up.
"So that's a yes?"
He closes his eyes for a moment and thinks about his mangled credit score. "Fine," Spencer mumbles. "I'll do it."
~
This isn't how Spencer saw his life playing out. He expected to be employed and making decent money ten months after graduating college, not selling cell phones in a mall kiosk and barely making ends meet. Jon's been his best friend for years, ever since eighth grade science class, and Spencer always saw himself eventually being roommates with Jon in some big city on any coast of their choosing. Instead, Jon's lived with the same roommate, Tom, for the past five years, whom Jon met during his one semester of college before he started working at Starbucks full-time. Tom's great, if a bit of the bohemian mindset that thinks rent and bills are irrelevant to true happiness. But rather than make Tom get a real job, Jon tries to compensate. And usually comes up short.
So here they are, two days after signing contracts, standing in a random bedroom in a random loft apartment full of garish lighting. The director, Patrick, is a little guy, smaller than Jon, but he’s nice enough. He’s about their age and not wearing gold chains. Spencer figures they’re okay.
Jon’s fidgeting. A lot.
“Okay, it’s pretty simple,” Patrick’s saying. “We go back and do the lead-ins later, so you’re not gonna have to worry about learning lines or anything today. This is just your basic blowjob scene, nothing fancy.” He gestures to the wall facing the bed. “Jon, you’re here. Do you two want kissing first, or do you just want to get to it?”
Jon fidgets some more and looks helplessly at Spencer, who's trying desperately to look like he’s one hundred percent cool with a stranger asking him to blow his best friend on camera.
Spencer shrugs. “Either way. Kissing’s mostly overrated, right?” Too bad his voice cracks at the end, completely ruining his blasé tone.
“In straight porn, mostly. Gay porn, you can sometimes get away with it more.”
Jon makes a strange, high-pitched noise in his throat. Spencer glares at him.
“Just get Jon up against the wall and go from there. I’ll talk you guys through it.” Patrick glances at his watch. “I'd like to be out of here in an hour, so we gotta hustle.” He’s all business, like they’re prepping for a board meeting or something. Spencer’s stomach flips over.
“Spence, I don’t - ” Jon starts to say as Spencer grabs his arm and pushes him up against the wall. “I don’t think this is - ”
Spencer covers his mouth. “It’ll go faster if you don’t talk, okay?” He’s whispering, mouth close to Jon’s chin, and it’s weird how none of it is sexual at all, just nerve-racking and slightly terrifying.
Jon nods under his hand, eyes still wide.
“Hey, are you two kissing?” Patrick calls. “’Cause if not - ”
“No, no kissing.” Somehow, kissing Jon suddenly seems ten times scarier than having his dick in his in mouth. Jon doesn’t protest, either.
“Okay, then just strip each other and go down on your knees, Spencer." Patrick motions to the cameraman to start filming. "And Jon, seriously, it’s head. Act like you’re into it.”
With shaking hands, they strip each other quickly, and once they're naked, Spencer drops to the floor, trying not to hyperventilate. Jon's dick is staring him straight in the face, and jesus, they've never even kissed. But Spencer shuts his eyes, holds his breath, and carefully licks over the head. Jon is tense under his hands, not making a sound.
It’s the most horrible, awkward, embarrassing thing Spencer’s ever done in his life. He doesn’t know how long he stays on his knees, naked and sucking Jon, trying to count the number of times it takes to breathe through his nose, but eventually Jon comes, and he makes this sharp, rough cry, like it totally takes him by surprise. Spencer manages to swallow (only the second time he’s ever done so, not including that night at the Delta Chi house), and when he pulls off, Jon’s shaking, grasping for air, eyes closed.
Spencer wipes his mouth and looks away.
“Cut,” Patrick calls, waving to the cameraman. “Nice job. We’ll pick up here tomorrow.”
He's relieved as hell until he pulls his boxers back on and discovers he's hard.
~
Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could afford to live alone. Instead, he's got his other best friend for a roommate, the one who's known him since kindergarten and technically has bragging rights over Jon as far as who-has-the-most-shit-on-Spencer goes.
Ryan's staring at him like Spencer's got some kind of mold growing over his skin. He sets his coffee mug on the counter and says, "Things are getting weird."
Spencer goes stiff, but doesn't bite. "No, they're not. Whatever."
"You're all jittery and shit. And you won't talk about how the shoot went."
"What's to talk about? It's a porno, they're all the same. Pretty sure I don't have to give you details." He's rubbing his thumb around the edge of his Dr. Pepper can, avoiding Ryan's eyes.
"Uh-huh." Ryan drums his fingers on the counter top. "D'you come?"
"Fuck, Ryan." He stomps out of the kitchen and into the living room, flopping onto the couch in a very dignified fashion. Really. Spencer buries his face in the couch cushions and hopes against hope that Ryan will leave him alone. Of course, he knows better.
"Alright, I'll take that as a yes." Spencer can hear him walk around the couch, feels the dip in the cushions from his weight pressing down on the opposite side.
"'s not a yes. I made him come. That was the whole point." He waves his hand vaguely, trying to make it sound like another day at the office.
Ryan makes another ambiguous humming sound. "And you're not weird at all from having given one of your best friends head on camera."
"Nope."
"See, this is why I kept telling you to fool around with Jon at least once. You never know when you're gonna have to make a porno together during desperate times."
Spencer looks up at Ryan and glares. "Just because you went down on me sophomore year - "
"I did, and it was awful. That's my point - if it were the two of us making a porno, you wouldn't be a fucking mess right now. You'd be miserable as fuck and wanting it over with, but there would be zero angst involved." Ryan shakes his head, long arms folded over his chest. "All this could've been solved if you'd just take my advice."
Spencer gets up and goes to his bedroom to call Jon, to prove his point that he's not a mess. Not at all.
Jon answers with, "Dude, Pete just called. He says Patrick wants rimming tomorrow." His voice is too high.
Spencer almost drops his phone.
~
Jon met Pete through a band he used to play in during high school. For whatever reason, they've stayed friends, and for the most part Spencer likes having Pete around; he knows all the random new clubs opening up, or the best bands to listen to that no one else has ever heard of.
He's also best friends with a porno director.
"It's not like that," Pete insists as he walks with Jon and Spencer up to the loft. "He started it as a way to pay for film school, and the money was good, so he stayed with it."
"He doesn't mind not being a real director, though?" Spencer asks.
Pete frowns. "Of course he's a real fucking director. How many guys can say their films sold five hundred thousand copies last year?"
Spencer doesn't question Patrick's credentials after that.
They do the rimming scene on a queen-sized bed with pristine white sheets. And there's a fluffer this time, some kid with a dollar sign tattooed on his arm, and he takes way too much pleasure in jerking Spencer off while making comments about Jon.
"I so wouldn't mind blowing that for a half hour, seriously," the kid sighs, leering at Jon from over his shoulder as Jon sheds his clothes.
Spencer bites his lip to keep from making comments about what, exactly, this kid can blow - only fuck, he's getting hard suddenly, which is really inconvenient.
The kid grins and gives him one last tug. "You're good to go. Lucky bastard."
It pretty much goes downhill from there.
They don't get onto the bed at first; Patrick wants a blowjob first and then the rimming, to "shake things up a bit". The next thing Spencer knows, his thighs are braced against the edge of the mattress and Jon's sinking to his knees.
Now's about the time Spencer really, really hates to admit that Ryan was right.
And it's not all that great, because Jon's so nervous, and there's too much teeth, but...the way Jon's face goes soft at one point, just as he pulls up to slide back down again, makes something tighten in Spencer's chest. He comes not long after that, tight and strangled. It doesn't sound sexy at all to Spencer's ears, but Patrick gives them a thumbs up and then waves them toward the bed.
The rimming is pretty much perfunctory; Spencer's only done it once before, and he seriously doubts Jon's done it at all. It's a blur of mouths and tongues, and eventually Spencer has Jon coming in his hand, moaning softly, and all Spencer can think is that he's got his tongue in his best friend's ass. He winces, pulling out just as Patrick yells, "Cut! Print that, that'll do."
Jon rolls over onto his back, his bare skin flushed and damp as he gasps for air.
Against his better judgment, Spencer whispers, "You okay?"
Jon's eyes flutter open, and he gives Spencer a slow, sleepy grin. Spencer's never seen him smile like that before. "Yeah, great. You're pretty good at that."
It's like a warmth suddenly blooms out in his stomach. "I..." What the hell, he's not supposed to be stuttering and blushing. That's not how this works. "I should get dressed."
The smile drops off Jon's face. "Me, too. Throw me my boxers?"
~
Ryan has a boyfriend, Brendon, who teaches music at an elementary school and is utterly fascinated with the idea of Jon and Spencer filming a porno.
"So, like, do you know what you'll be doing when you show up?" he asks, bouncing a little on the couch where he's nestled into Ryan's side.
Spencer shrugs. Jon is sitting across from him on the floor, legs crossed Indian-style as he eats ice cream from a bowl on the coffee table. He looks really young and vulnerable sitting like that, so Spencer doesn't look. "Most of the time. When we have lines to learn, we go in early to rehearse, and then Patrick usually tells us what positions we'll be using." He never thought he'd be able to talk about filming porn like it's a dental procedure.
"He changes his mind sometimes," Jon pipes up around a mouthful of ice cream. "Just because he tells us the night before we'll be fucking on a weight bench, that doesn't mean we won't be sixty-nining instead."
Spencer tries very, very hard not to blush. He'd come ridiculously fast from that this morning, so fast Jon had pulled off and started laughing. Patrick hadn't been happy, and neither was Spencer, who may or may not have grazed his teeth a little too hard down Jon's cock later on.
Brendon's eyes go wide. "Oh wow, that's so fucked up. I can't believe you guys are really doing this, seriously."
Jon licks his spoon clean and sets the bowl aside. Not that Spencer's looking, of course. "One time my brother and his wife got stuck in Vegas without enough money to get a flight back home," he says. "Someone offered them three grand to make a porno in one night. They did it, and said it was the easiest money they'd ever made." Jon ducks his head and smiles crookedly at Spencer. "It could be worse, I guess, but at least I'm doing it with Spence and not some stranger with VD."
"You never know, Spence could very well have VD," Ryan drawls. Spencer promptly flips him off.
Eventually Brendon starts nodding off, which is always Ryan's cue to drag him into bed. They disappear into Ryan's bedroom, and Jon yawns, getting up from the floor to sit beside Spencer on the couch. He drapes his arm around Spencer's shoulders, which is nothing new; affectionate, platonic cuddling is the norm for them. Only now it feels...strange. Affectionate, platonic cuddling no longer works when you've spent the better part of a day being naked together.
"I meant what I said," Jon says softly. "I'm glad you're doing this with me." He rubs his cheek softly against Spencer's shoulder, and Spencer is hit with this sudden, desperate need to kiss him. He wants to know what Jon tastes like, what his mouth feels like just before he's about to come. But they don't kiss on film. It's better that way.
"Yeah," is all Spencer can whisper back, and he consoles himself with pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jon's head, breathing in his shampoo. "And I don't have VD. Just so you know."
Jon laughs and slides his arm around Spencer's stomach, hugging him close. "Thank god."
~
On the last day of filming, Patrick tells them he wants Jon to ride Spencer in this big, awkward-looking wing-backed chair.
"It's comfy, I promise," he says. In the background, Spencer thinks maybe he hears Pete cough, although he really doesn't want to know, and why the hell does Pete keep coming to these things, anyway?
There's a miniscule plotline revolving around Jon and Spencer being TAs at some university, but whatever, it's being shot in the living room of the loft and looks nothing like a college classroom. Like anyone really cares.
Spencer learns what few lines he has; ridiculous, clichéd come-ons that make him wince inside. It doesn’t take long for them to go through the motions of stripping off their clothes and grinding up against each other (Jon never quite looks him in the eyes once he’s completely naked), and soon Spencer’s collapsing back into the chair, which, wow. Patrick wasn’t kidding. He slumps back against the cushions and pulls Jon into his lap, spreading his legs.
“Good, guys - Jon, don’t block Spencer too much,” Patrick calls from somewhere behind the camera.
Jon’s eyes are closed and his lips are parted slightly. He’s panting, and for a second, Spencer lets himself take in how incredibly gorgeous Jon is: hair swept over his forehead, cheeks dark pink, shoulders broad and only slightly rounded. For a second, Spencer wants this to be real so badly his stomach cramps.
They’re plenty lubed, condom already on and ready to go, and as Spencer slides into Jon’s body, Jon gives this breathy moan that makes Spencer grit his teeth. He shoves in the rest of the way, hard, and that makes them both cry out, loud groans that dissolve into gasps. It’s more noise than they usually make, and Spencer wants to tell Jon how tight he feels, how good it is, but he can’t. It’s not in the script.
Jon picks up a fast rhythm, rocking forward even as he leans back enough to keep Spencer in the shot. His dick is hard and leaking, almost parallel to his stomach, and when Patrick says, “Go ahead, Jon,” Jon closes his fist around himself tightly and jerks, mouth falling open as he moans.
“You guys are really into it,” Spencer hears Patrick say, voice low. “Wish you two had had this kind of chemistry two weeks ago.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer sees Pete moving in closer to Patrick. “Fuck it, I told you just to give ‘em time," Pete says, and Spencer thinks maybe he catches a glimpse of Pete nuzzling into Patrick’s neck, and if Spencer weren’t so gone, he’d be incensed that his director is being cuddled while Spencer’s naked.
Except now Jon’s rolling his hips against him, taking him deeper, and Spencer can feel his brain starting to splinter. He slides his hands up Jon’s back, cupping his shoulders, and suddenly sits up, pressing into Jon, chest to chest. It’s a dumb move because it blocks the shot, but Spencer can’t help it. He licks over Jon’s collarbone, kisses the hollow at his throat, even as he meets Jon’s thrusts.
“Spence, lean back,” Patrick calls, but Spencer doesn’t hear him at all. He just wants.
He’d eventually do as Patrick asks, only Jon responds to him. He lets go of his cock and curls his hands around Spencer’s neck, his thumbs framing Spencer’s jaw, and they’re so close to kissing, Spencer can barely breathe.
“I - ” Spencer sucks in a breath when Jon grinds down hard. “Oh fuck, Jon - ”
“Sssh,” Jon says, mouth skimming over Spencer’s chin. “Keep going, okay, we gotta - shit - ”
“Guys, you’re fucking up the shot, someone needs to lean back.” Patrick’s voice is like a dull roar in the back of Spencer’s mind; everything around him is a blur of heat and sound.
“Jon, I can’t - I - ” And right as he feels the rush of his orgasm set in, he squeezes his eyes closed and whispers something that sounds a lot like "love you,” right as he comes harder than any other time before. It feels real, complete, not just a requirement.
He doesn’t see Jon’s reaction, he can only feel it; hands flexing against his neck, and a second later he presses his forehead to Spencer’s and moans brokenly as his body convulses around Spencer’s cock.
They cling to each other, sweaty and panting, as Patrick grumbles, “Yeah, that’s awesome, I got nothing in that final shot.”
Spencer hears soft whispering, and Pete’s voice saying something about the power of editing.
Unfortunately, whatever moment he and Jon have is soon over. Jon pulls back and blinks at Spencer like he’s coming out of a fog, and then he’s scrambling out of Spencer’s lap, head bowed.
“So, are we done or what?” he asks Patrick as he tugs his shirt back on. Spencer’s still completely naked and completely sprawled in the chair, trying to get his brain functional again.
Patrick sighs. “I guess. You probably gave me enough to work with overall, so we’re good.” Pete grins at Jon from where he’s got his chin stacked on Patrick’s shoulder and gives them both a thumbs up.
Jon nods jerkily and finishes getting dressed at the speed of light, before Spencer’s barely upright. He’s stepping into his boxers as Jon says, “I’m, ah, gonna go on home, okay?”
Spencer blinks. “But I drove you.”
“I’ll call Tom to pick me up, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.” Before Spencer has a chance to argue, Jon’s disappearing out the front door.
~
Ryan sighs and leans against Spencer’s bedroom doorway. “Did you kiss him finally?”
“No.” Spencer buries deeper into his blankets. He called in sick to work, and he’s not about to get out of bed. Not when he’s got a serious case of self-pity.
“Did you tell him you love him?”
He covers his head and curls into a tight ball. “Why the fuck would I do that before I even kissed him?” he says, voice muffled.
“Oh, jesus, you did.” Ryan sighs again, heavier and loaded with exasperation. “Let me guess, it was during sex, like a fucking Lifetime movie.”
“I hate you.”
“You should really learn to take my advice.”
If Spencer weren’t tucked into a ball of woe, he’d throw a shoe at Ryan’s head.
~
He and Jon avoid each other for a week. On Saturday, Spencer decides he’s tired of Ryan giving him withering looks, so he swallows what little pride he has left and goes to Jon’s apartment.
Tom answers, barefooted and holding an ancient camera in his hands. “Spencer Smith, porn star!” he cries. “Long time no see. Jon’s been all mopey since you guys finished making pornos.”
Spencer’s heart flips over. “Yeah? Is he here?”
“Sure. I was just going out to take a few shots, but come on in.” He ushers Spencer inside and salutes him as he ducks out the door, not stopping to put on shoes.
Spencer wanders through the living room, running his fingers over the old copies of National Geographic sitting out on the coffee table - issues once belonging to Tom’s great uncle before he died last spring. Sometimes Jon and Spencer get drunk and pretend to be famous archaeologists narrating their own television specials; Jon loves the issues on freakish ocean animals.
The bathroom door opens, and Jon’s walking out into the hall in nothing but sweatpants and a faded Muse t-shirt. His hair’s damp, like he’s just gotten out of the shower. He comes to a stop when he sees Spencer standing by the couch.
“Oh. Hey. I was just getting ready for work.”
Spencer chews his lip. “Tom let me in.”
“Yeah, I see that.” He scrubs a hand through his wet hair and crosses his arms over his chest. Like a barrier. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?" Spencer huffs. "How ‘bout the fact that we haven’t talked in a week, not since - ” He stops, blushing. “Since we finished up with Patrick.”
Jon shifts from foot to foot, and his shoulders curl inward a little. “I didn’t think...” He sighs. “I thought maybe since it was...weird, you’d want to be left alone.”
“What do you mean, weird?” He can’t stand having this much space between them anymore; he gets right up in Jon’s face, close enough that he can smell the scent of Jon’s soap, the warm, clean smell of his skin. “You mean the part where I said - said - ” God, he can’t say it out loud again.
Jon’s face kind of falls, and there’s this look in his eyes Spencer hates. “It was just a job, Spence. We both knew that going into it, and anything that happened in the process was just a part of that. Nothing more.” He shakes his head. “I mean, we’re still friends, right?”
Spencer almost winces. “Of course we are. Always.”
“Then we should just agree to move on and take the money and forget this ever happened.” Jon looks down at his feet and takes a step back.
Something cracks inside of Spencer, something sharp and painful. “So that’s it? We’re just gonna forget about it?”
Jon licks his lips and looks up at Spencer through his bangs. “Isn’t that what you want?” he asks softly.
It would be so easy to say yes and pretend things back to the way they were, back to when Spencer believed he could think about Jon in strictly platonic ways and the tiny twinges of want could be ignored. But now he knows every inch of Jon's body, knows the sounds he makes when he touches himself, knows the exact shade of pink Jon turns when he starts to get really aroused. There's no going back after that, and the twinges are becoming insistent, painful tugs.
Spencer's only human, so he does the only thing he can think to do: he cups Jon's face in his hands and kisses him. He kisses him sweetly, carefully, and it's full of everything that couldn't be shared in the last three weeks, everything he's only just beginning to realize. He barely touches Jon, just splays one hand over Jon’s chest as he holds his breath.
He pulls back and whispers against Jon’s mouth, “No.” He nuzzles the tip of his nose over Jon’s cheek, refusing to open his eyes.
“No?” Jon sounds breathless, and Spencer can feel fingertips skimming over his arm.
“No.” He leans back in, licks carefully into Jon’s mouth, just over the edge of his lower lip, and thinks that had they kissed like this years ago, he would never have shared Jon with a camera.
Jon gasps faintly, pressing closer. "Oh." Finally, the tension leaves him, and he melts against Spencer, hands digging gently into the fabric from Spencer's shirt. “Did I mention I’m glad it was you?” he breathes in between kisses.
Spencer slides his hands back and laces his fingers at the base of Jon's skull, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, you mentioned it.”
"I was trying to give you space, that's all."
"Then you can stop now." Spencer grins a little, kisses Jon's cheek lightly. "I have enough space."
Jon slowly wraps his arms around him, and they stay like that for a long moment, nose to nose, eyes closed and just breathing each other's air. Eventually, Jon says, "I gotta get ready for work."
"Yeah, okay."
"I get off at midnight." He smiles, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Spencer's jaw. "You should be here when I get back."
Spencer smirks, but he feels that familiar bloom of heat in his stomach. "And what, you'll make it worth my while?" It's not a coincidence that he's quoting a line from one of their earlier shoots.
Jon laughs and kisses the corner of Spencer's mouth, his chin, one hand still spread across Spencer's lower back. "Naw, probably not. I'll be grumpy and wired and smelling like coffee beans." He kisses Spencer again, straight on the mouth, soft and easy. "But you can cuddle with me on the couch and watch Conan. If you want."
He definitely wants. "I can probably manage that," Spencer replies, letting Jon go and nudging him toward the bedroom. "Do I get to stay the night, too?"
Jon waves a hand over his shoulder on his way down the hall. "Sure, but I don't put out on the first date."
Spencer bites his lip around a stupid, sappy grin. "Neither do I," he yells back, kicking his shoes off and settling in the couch, remote in hand.
[Jon/Spencer, Pete/Patrick, Ryan/Brendon | 4800 words | NC-17]
"Think of it as, I don't know, donating plasma or something," Jon sighs.
VERY loosely based on the plot for the upcoming Kevin Smith film Zack and Miri Make a Porno. I really have no idea what the actual movie will be like, but it sounds awesome. I also, in no way, pretend to know a thing about the porn industry. (And I'd also like to apologize for making one of the Cab boys a fluffer. *hands*) Beta duties performed by the usual suspects,
shleemeri and adellyna.It's all Jon's idea. Well, mostly. Spencer doesn't exactly put up a fight when Jon tells him he's found a way to make them some decent money, enough money that Spencer could get his student loans out of deferment and Jon could pay all of his rent for a change. The catch is that the money would be made by, um.
"Yeah, it's porn," Jon says, not quite looking Spencer in the eyes as he plays with the brown cardboard sleeve around his Starbucks cup (even on his days off, Jon can't seem to stay away from the place). "But look, the director's a good friend of Pete's. He's not skeezy or anything, he's just desperate for some new faces. Evidently a lot of guys have quit on him recently."
"Duh, it's fucking porn," Spencer shoots back, wanting to get up and leave. But the thought of all the messages from student loan companies waiting for him on his answering machine, coupled with the past due notices flooding in with the mail, keep him in his seat.
"Think of it as, I don't know, donating plasma or something." Jon sighs. "Look, it's only for three weeks. We get to split twenty grand, Spence. Twenty grand."
Spencer rubs a hand across his face. "You do realize we've never so much as kissed in our entire lives, right?" he asks softly. It's not like that between them, never has been. At least, that's what Spencer's always taught himself to believe, even when he goes through weird phases where he hates everyone who so much as takes Jon out for coffee.
Jon nods, and his hair falls into his eyes; Spencer wonders if they'll make him cut it for the shoot. "It doesn't matter, it's just a job. It's more money than either of us'll see in that short of a time." He finally looks up, grinning sheepishly. "I'm actually a decent lay, I swear."
Spencer kicks him under the table. He kind of wants to throw up.
"So that's a yes?"
He closes his eyes for a moment and thinks about his mangled credit score. "Fine," Spencer mumbles. "I'll do it."
~
This isn't how Spencer saw his life playing out. He expected to be employed and making decent money ten months after graduating college, not selling cell phones in a mall kiosk and barely making ends meet. Jon's been his best friend for years, ever since eighth grade science class, and Spencer always saw himself eventually being roommates with Jon in some big city on any coast of their choosing. Instead, Jon's lived with the same roommate, Tom, for the past five years, whom Jon met during his one semester of college before he started working at Starbucks full-time. Tom's great, if a bit of the bohemian mindset that thinks rent and bills are irrelevant to true happiness. But rather than make Tom get a real job, Jon tries to compensate. And usually comes up short.
So here they are, two days after signing contracts, standing in a random bedroom in a random loft apartment full of garish lighting. The director, Patrick, is a little guy, smaller than Jon, but he’s nice enough. He’s about their age and not wearing gold chains. Spencer figures they’re okay.
Jon’s fidgeting. A lot.
“Okay, it’s pretty simple,” Patrick’s saying. “We go back and do the lead-ins later, so you’re not gonna have to worry about learning lines or anything today. This is just your basic blowjob scene, nothing fancy.” He gestures to the wall facing the bed. “Jon, you’re here. Do you two want kissing first, or do you just want to get to it?”
Jon fidgets some more and looks helplessly at Spencer, who's trying desperately to look like he’s one hundred percent cool with a stranger asking him to blow his best friend on camera.
Spencer shrugs. “Either way. Kissing’s mostly overrated, right?” Too bad his voice cracks at the end, completely ruining his blasé tone.
“In straight porn, mostly. Gay porn, you can sometimes get away with it more.”
Jon makes a strange, high-pitched noise in his throat. Spencer glares at him.
“Just get Jon up against the wall and go from there. I’ll talk you guys through it.” Patrick glances at his watch. “I'd like to be out of here in an hour, so we gotta hustle.” He’s all business, like they’re prepping for a board meeting or something. Spencer’s stomach flips over.
“Spence, I don’t - ” Jon starts to say as Spencer grabs his arm and pushes him up against the wall. “I don’t think this is - ”
Spencer covers his mouth. “It’ll go faster if you don’t talk, okay?” He’s whispering, mouth close to Jon’s chin, and it’s weird how none of it is sexual at all, just nerve-racking and slightly terrifying.
Jon nods under his hand, eyes still wide.
“Hey, are you two kissing?” Patrick calls. “’Cause if not - ”
“No, no kissing.” Somehow, kissing Jon suddenly seems ten times scarier than having his dick in his in mouth. Jon doesn’t protest, either.
“Okay, then just strip each other and go down on your knees, Spencer." Patrick motions to the cameraman to start filming. "And Jon, seriously, it’s head. Act like you’re into it.”
With shaking hands, they strip each other quickly, and once they're naked, Spencer drops to the floor, trying not to hyperventilate. Jon's dick is staring him straight in the face, and jesus, they've never even kissed. But Spencer shuts his eyes, holds his breath, and carefully licks over the head. Jon is tense under his hands, not making a sound.
It’s the most horrible, awkward, embarrassing thing Spencer’s ever done in his life. He doesn’t know how long he stays on his knees, naked and sucking Jon, trying to count the number of times it takes to breathe through his nose, but eventually Jon comes, and he makes this sharp, rough cry, like it totally takes him by surprise. Spencer manages to swallow (only the second time he’s ever done so, not including that night at the Delta Chi house), and when he pulls off, Jon’s shaking, grasping for air, eyes closed.
Spencer wipes his mouth and looks away.
“Cut,” Patrick calls, waving to the cameraman. “Nice job. We’ll pick up here tomorrow.”
He's relieved as hell until he pulls his boxers back on and discovers he's hard.
~
Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could afford to live alone. Instead, he's got his other best friend for a roommate, the one who's known him since kindergarten and technically has bragging rights over Jon as far as who-has-the-most-shit-on-Spencer goes.
Ryan's staring at him like Spencer's got some kind of mold growing over his skin. He sets his coffee mug on the counter and says, "Things are getting weird."
Spencer goes stiff, but doesn't bite. "No, they're not. Whatever."
"You're all jittery and shit. And you won't talk about how the shoot went."
"What's to talk about? It's a porno, they're all the same. Pretty sure I don't have to give you details." He's rubbing his thumb around the edge of his Dr. Pepper can, avoiding Ryan's eyes.
"Uh-huh." Ryan drums his fingers on the counter top. "D'you come?"
"Fuck, Ryan." He stomps out of the kitchen and into the living room, flopping onto the couch in a very dignified fashion. Really. Spencer buries his face in the couch cushions and hopes against hope that Ryan will leave him alone. Of course, he knows better.
"Alright, I'll take that as a yes." Spencer can hear him walk around the couch, feels the dip in the cushions from his weight pressing down on the opposite side.
"'s not a yes. I made him come. That was the whole point." He waves his hand vaguely, trying to make it sound like another day at the office.
Ryan makes another ambiguous humming sound. "And you're not weird at all from having given one of your best friends head on camera."
"Nope."
"See, this is why I kept telling you to fool around with Jon at least once. You never know when you're gonna have to make a porno together during desperate times."
Spencer looks up at Ryan and glares. "Just because you went down on me sophomore year - "
"I did, and it was awful. That's my point - if it were the two of us making a porno, you wouldn't be a fucking mess right now. You'd be miserable as fuck and wanting it over with, but there would be zero angst involved." Ryan shakes his head, long arms folded over his chest. "All this could've been solved if you'd just take my advice."
Spencer gets up and goes to his bedroom to call Jon, to prove his point that he's not a mess. Not at all.
Jon answers with, "Dude, Pete just called. He says Patrick wants rimming tomorrow." His voice is too high.
Spencer almost drops his phone.
~
Jon met Pete through a band he used to play in during high school. For whatever reason, they've stayed friends, and for the most part Spencer likes having Pete around; he knows all the random new clubs opening up, or the best bands to listen to that no one else has ever heard of.
He's also best friends with a porno director.
"It's not like that," Pete insists as he walks with Jon and Spencer up to the loft. "He started it as a way to pay for film school, and the money was good, so he stayed with it."
"He doesn't mind not being a real director, though?" Spencer asks.
Pete frowns. "Of course he's a real fucking director. How many guys can say their films sold five hundred thousand copies last year?"
Spencer doesn't question Patrick's credentials after that.
They do the rimming scene on a queen-sized bed with pristine white sheets. And there's a fluffer this time, some kid with a dollar sign tattooed on his arm, and he takes way too much pleasure in jerking Spencer off while making comments about Jon.
"I so wouldn't mind blowing that for a half hour, seriously," the kid sighs, leering at Jon from over his shoulder as Jon sheds his clothes.
Spencer bites his lip to keep from making comments about what, exactly, this kid can blow - only fuck, he's getting hard suddenly, which is really inconvenient.
The kid grins and gives him one last tug. "You're good to go. Lucky bastard."
It pretty much goes downhill from there.
They don't get onto the bed at first; Patrick wants a blowjob first and then the rimming, to "shake things up a bit". The next thing Spencer knows, his thighs are braced against the edge of the mattress and Jon's sinking to his knees.
Now's about the time Spencer really, really hates to admit that Ryan was right.
And it's not all that great, because Jon's so nervous, and there's too much teeth, but...the way Jon's face goes soft at one point, just as he pulls up to slide back down again, makes something tighten in Spencer's chest. He comes not long after that, tight and strangled. It doesn't sound sexy at all to Spencer's ears, but Patrick gives them a thumbs up and then waves them toward the bed.
The rimming is pretty much perfunctory; Spencer's only done it once before, and he seriously doubts Jon's done it at all. It's a blur of mouths and tongues, and eventually Spencer has Jon coming in his hand, moaning softly, and all Spencer can think is that he's got his tongue in his best friend's ass. He winces, pulling out just as Patrick yells, "Cut! Print that, that'll do."
Jon rolls over onto his back, his bare skin flushed and damp as he gasps for air.
Against his better judgment, Spencer whispers, "You okay?"
Jon's eyes flutter open, and he gives Spencer a slow, sleepy grin. Spencer's never seen him smile like that before. "Yeah, great. You're pretty good at that."
It's like a warmth suddenly blooms out in his stomach. "I..." What the hell, he's not supposed to be stuttering and blushing. That's not how this works. "I should get dressed."
The smile drops off Jon's face. "Me, too. Throw me my boxers?"
~
Ryan has a boyfriend, Brendon, who teaches music at an elementary school and is utterly fascinated with the idea of Jon and Spencer filming a porno.
"So, like, do you know what you'll be doing when you show up?" he asks, bouncing a little on the couch where he's nestled into Ryan's side.
Spencer shrugs. Jon is sitting across from him on the floor, legs crossed Indian-style as he eats ice cream from a bowl on the coffee table. He looks really young and vulnerable sitting like that, so Spencer doesn't look. "Most of the time. When we have lines to learn, we go in early to rehearse, and then Patrick usually tells us what positions we'll be using." He never thought he'd be able to talk about filming porn like it's a dental procedure.
"He changes his mind sometimes," Jon pipes up around a mouthful of ice cream. "Just because he tells us the night before we'll be fucking on a weight bench, that doesn't mean we won't be sixty-nining instead."
Spencer tries very, very hard not to blush. He'd come ridiculously fast from that this morning, so fast Jon had pulled off and started laughing. Patrick hadn't been happy, and neither was Spencer, who may or may not have grazed his teeth a little too hard down Jon's cock later on.
Brendon's eyes go wide. "Oh wow, that's so fucked up. I can't believe you guys are really doing this, seriously."
Jon licks his spoon clean and sets the bowl aside. Not that Spencer's looking, of course. "One time my brother and his wife got stuck in Vegas without enough money to get a flight back home," he says. "Someone offered them three grand to make a porno in one night. They did it, and said it was the easiest money they'd ever made." Jon ducks his head and smiles crookedly at Spencer. "It could be worse, I guess, but at least I'm doing it with Spence and not some stranger with VD."
"You never know, Spence could very well have VD," Ryan drawls. Spencer promptly flips him off.
Eventually Brendon starts nodding off, which is always Ryan's cue to drag him into bed. They disappear into Ryan's bedroom, and Jon yawns, getting up from the floor to sit beside Spencer on the couch. He drapes his arm around Spencer's shoulders, which is nothing new; affectionate, platonic cuddling is the norm for them. Only now it feels...strange. Affectionate, platonic cuddling no longer works when you've spent the better part of a day being naked together.
"I meant what I said," Jon says softly. "I'm glad you're doing this with me." He rubs his cheek softly against Spencer's shoulder, and Spencer is hit with this sudden, desperate need to kiss him. He wants to know what Jon tastes like, what his mouth feels like just before he's about to come. But they don't kiss on film. It's better that way.
"Yeah," is all Spencer can whisper back, and he consoles himself with pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jon's head, breathing in his shampoo. "And I don't have VD. Just so you know."
Jon laughs and slides his arm around Spencer's stomach, hugging him close. "Thank god."
~
On the last day of filming, Patrick tells them he wants Jon to ride Spencer in this big, awkward-looking wing-backed chair.
"It's comfy, I promise," he says. In the background, Spencer thinks maybe he hears Pete cough, although he really doesn't want to know, and why the hell does Pete keep coming to these things, anyway?
There's a miniscule plotline revolving around Jon and Spencer being TAs at some university, but whatever, it's being shot in the living room of the loft and looks nothing like a college classroom. Like anyone really cares.
Spencer learns what few lines he has; ridiculous, clichéd come-ons that make him wince inside. It doesn’t take long for them to go through the motions of stripping off their clothes and grinding up against each other (Jon never quite looks him in the eyes once he’s completely naked), and soon Spencer’s collapsing back into the chair, which, wow. Patrick wasn’t kidding. He slumps back against the cushions and pulls Jon into his lap, spreading his legs.
“Good, guys - Jon, don’t block Spencer too much,” Patrick calls from somewhere behind the camera.
Jon’s eyes are closed and his lips are parted slightly. He’s panting, and for a second, Spencer lets himself take in how incredibly gorgeous Jon is: hair swept over his forehead, cheeks dark pink, shoulders broad and only slightly rounded. For a second, Spencer wants this to be real so badly his stomach cramps.
They’re plenty lubed, condom already on and ready to go, and as Spencer slides into Jon’s body, Jon gives this breathy moan that makes Spencer grit his teeth. He shoves in the rest of the way, hard, and that makes them both cry out, loud groans that dissolve into gasps. It’s more noise than they usually make, and Spencer wants to tell Jon how tight he feels, how good it is, but he can’t. It’s not in the script.
Jon picks up a fast rhythm, rocking forward even as he leans back enough to keep Spencer in the shot. His dick is hard and leaking, almost parallel to his stomach, and when Patrick says, “Go ahead, Jon,” Jon closes his fist around himself tightly and jerks, mouth falling open as he moans.
“You guys are really into it,” Spencer hears Patrick say, voice low. “Wish you two had had this kind of chemistry two weeks ago.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer sees Pete moving in closer to Patrick. “Fuck it, I told you just to give ‘em time," Pete says, and Spencer thinks maybe he catches a glimpse of Pete nuzzling into Patrick’s neck, and if Spencer weren’t so gone, he’d be incensed that his director is being cuddled while Spencer’s naked.
Except now Jon’s rolling his hips against him, taking him deeper, and Spencer can feel his brain starting to splinter. He slides his hands up Jon’s back, cupping his shoulders, and suddenly sits up, pressing into Jon, chest to chest. It’s a dumb move because it blocks the shot, but Spencer can’t help it. He licks over Jon’s collarbone, kisses the hollow at his throat, even as he meets Jon’s thrusts.
“Spence, lean back,” Patrick calls, but Spencer doesn’t hear him at all. He just wants.
He’d eventually do as Patrick asks, only Jon responds to him. He lets go of his cock and curls his hands around Spencer’s neck, his thumbs framing Spencer’s jaw, and they’re so close to kissing, Spencer can barely breathe.
“I - ” Spencer sucks in a breath when Jon grinds down hard. “Oh fuck, Jon - ”
“Sssh,” Jon says, mouth skimming over Spencer’s chin. “Keep going, okay, we gotta - shit - ”
“Guys, you’re fucking up the shot, someone needs to lean back.” Patrick’s voice is like a dull roar in the back of Spencer’s mind; everything around him is a blur of heat and sound.
“Jon, I can’t - I - ” And right as he feels the rush of his orgasm set in, he squeezes his eyes closed and whispers something that sounds a lot like "love you,” right as he comes harder than any other time before. It feels real, complete, not just a requirement.
He doesn’t see Jon’s reaction, he can only feel it; hands flexing against his neck, and a second later he presses his forehead to Spencer’s and moans brokenly as his body convulses around Spencer’s cock.
They cling to each other, sweaty and panting, as Patrick grumbles, “Yeah, that’s awesome, I got nothing in that final shot.”
Spencer hears soft whispering, and Pete’s voice saying something about the power of editing.
Unfortunately, whatever moment he and Jon have is soon over. Jon pulls back and blinks at Spencer like he’s coming out of a fog, and then he’s scrambling out of Spencer’s lap, head bowed.
“So, are we done or what?” he asks Patrick as he tugs his shirt back on. Spencer’s still completely naked and completely sprawled in the chair, trying to get his brain functional again.
Patrick sighs. “I guess. You probably gave me enough to work with overall, so we’re good.” Pete grins at Jon from where he’s got his chin stacked on Patrick’s shoulder and gives them both a thumbs up.
Jon nods jerkily and finishes getting dressed at the speed of light, before Spencer’s barely upright. He’s stepping into his boxers as Jon says, “I’m, ah, gonna go on home, okay?”
Spencer blinks. “But I drove you.”
“I’ll call Tom to pick me up, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.” Before Spencer has a chance to argue, Jon’s disappearing out the front door.
~
Ryan sighs and leans against Spencer’s bedroom doorway. “Did you kiss him finally?”
“No.” Spencer buries deeper into his blankets. He called in sick to work, and he’s not about to get out of bed. Not when he’s got a serious case of self-pity.
“Did you tell him you love him?”
He covers his head and curls into a tight ball. “Why the fuck would I do that before I even kissed him?” he says, voice muffled.
“Oh, jesus, you did.” Ryan sighs again, heavier and loaded with exasperation. “Let me guess, it was during sex, like a fucking Lifetime movie.”
“I hate you.”
“You should really learn to take my advice.”
If Spencer weren’t tucked into a ball of woe, he’d throw a shoe at Ryan’s head.
~
He and Jon avoid each other for a week. On Saturday, Spencer decides he’s tired of Ryan giving him withering looks, so he swallows what little pride he has left and goes to Jon’s apartment.
Tom answers, barefooted and holding an ancient camera in his hands. “Spencer Smith, porn star!” he cries. “Long time no see. Jon’s been all mopey since you guys finished making pornos.”
Spencer’s heart flips over. “Yeah? Is he here?”
“Sure. I was just going out to take a few shots, but come on in.” He ushers Spencer inside and salutes him as he ducks out the door, not stopping to put on shoes.
Spencer wanders through the living room, running his fingers over the old copies of National Geographic sitting out on the coffee table - issues once belonging to Tom’s great uncle before he died last spring. Sometimes Jon and Spencer get drunk and pretend to be famous archaeologists narrating their own television specials; Jon loves the issues on freakish ocean animals.
The bathroom door opens, and Jon’s walking out into the hall in nothing but sweatpants and a faded Muse t-shirt. His hair’s damp, like he’s just gotten out of the shower. He comes to a stop when he sees Spencer standing by the couch.
“Oh. Hey. I was just getting ready for work.”
Spencer chews his lip. “Tom let me in.”
“Yeah, I see that.” He scrubs a hand through his wet hair and crosses his arms over his chest. Like a barrier. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?" Spencer huffs. "How ‘bout the fact that we haven’t talked in a week, not since - ” He stops, blushing. “Since we finished up with Patrick.”
Jon shifts from foot to foot, and his shoulders curl inward a little. “I didn’t think...” He sighs. “I thought maybe since it was...weird, you’d want to be left alone.”
“What do you mean, weird?” He can’t stand having this much space between them anymore; he gets right up in Jon’s face, close enough that he can smell the scent of Jon’s soap, the warm, clean smell of his skin. “You mean the part where I said - said - ” God, he can’t say it out loud again.
Jon’s face kind of falls, and there’s this look in his eyes Spencer hates. “It was just a job, Spence. We both knew that going into it, and anything that happened in the process was just a part of that. Nothing more.” He shakes his head. “I mean, we’re still friends, right?”
Spencer almost winces. “Of course we are. Always.”
“Then we should just agree to move on and take the money and forget this ever happened.” Jon looks down at his feet and takes a step back.
Something cracks inside of Spencer, something sharp and painful. “So that’s it? We’re just gonna forget about it?”
Jon licks his lips and looks up at Spencer through his bangs. “Isn’t that what you want?” he asks softly.
It would be so easy to say yes and pretend things back to the way they were, back to when Spencer believed he could think about Jon in strictly platonic ways and the tiny twinges of want could be ignored. But now he knows every inch of Jon's body, knows the sounds he makes when he touches himself, knows the exact shade of pink Jon turns when he starts to get really aroused. There's no going back after that, and the twinges are becoming insistent, painful tugs.
Spencer's only human, so he does the only thing he can think to do: he cups Jon's face in his hands and kisses him. He kisses him sweetly, carefully, and it's full of everything that couldn't be shared in the last three weeks, everything he's only just beginning to realize. He barely touches Jon, just splays one hand over Jon’s chest as he holds his breath.
He pulls back and whispers against Jon’s mouth, “No.” He nuzzles the tip of his nose over Jon’s cheek, refusing to open his eyes.
“No?” Jon sounds breathless, and Spencer can feel fingertips skimming over his arm.
“No.” He leans back in, licks carefully into Jon’s mouth, just over the edge of his lower lip, and thinks that had they kissed like this years ago, he would never have shared Jon with a camera.
Jon gasps faintly, pressing closer. "Oh." Finally, the tension leaves him, and he melts against Spencer, hands digging gently into the fabric from Spencer's shirt. “Did I mention I’m glad it was you?” he breathes in between kisses.
Spencer slides his hands back and laces his fingers at the base of Jon's skull, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, you mentioned it.”
"I was trying to give you space, that's all."
"Then you can stop now." Spencer grins a little, kisses Jon's cheek lightly. "I have enough space."
Jon slowly wraps his arms around him, and they stay like that for a long moment, nose to nose, eyes closed and just breathing each other's air. Eventually, Jon says, "I gotta get ready for work."
"Yeah, okay."
"I get off at midnight." He smiles, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Spencer's jaw. "You should be here when I get back."
Spencer smirks, but he feels that familiar bloom of heat in his stomach. "And what, you'll make it worth my while?" It's not a coincidence that he's quoting a line from one of their earlier shoots.
Jon laughs and kisses the corner of Spencer's mouth, his chin, one hand still spread across Spencer's lower back. "Naw, probably not. I'll be grumpy and wired and smelling like coffee beans." He kisses Spencer again, straight on the mouth, soft and easy. "But you can cuddle with me on the couch and watch Conan. If you want."
He definitely wants. "I can probably manage that," Spencer replies, letting Jon go and nudging him toward the bedroom. "Do I get to stay the night, too?"
Jon waves a hand over his shoulder on his way down the hall. "Sure, but I don't put out on the first date."
Spencer bites his lip around a stupid, sappy grin. "Neither do I," he yells back, kicking his shoes off and settling in the couch, remote in hand.