Behind the Lens (Behind the Lives) (22 page)

Dante
gritted his teeth, willing himself to not bite Jade’s head off.

Jade
smiled. “And don’t worry, I will pay for everything.”

Just
like Ant Torres had wanted to. That prick had offered Dante a job as a high
paid escort, yet he’d punched Ant in the face for it, although he would’ve hit
the scum regardless.

“I’ll
do whatever the fuck you want, Jade,” Dante said, “just as long as I get to
talk to Craven.”

“Why
do you want to see Nigel?”

“That’s
my business.”

“Then
stop talking about him, because I want to put our mouths to better use.”

Before
Dante could reply, Jade smothered his lips, kissing the hell out of him, then
he clamped a hand around Dante’s throat and squeezed, but not hard enough to
choke him, unlike Kara who would leave bruises and cuts behind. Jade started
biting and pulling on his lips, freaking Dante out, because it felt like Jade
was imitating Kara, although he couldn’t be. But instead of pulling away, Dante
lay still, not fighting the rough treatment, because he liked it, missed it,
just wished Kara was the one doing it. Guilt hit him square in the chest as his
mind went to Beth.

“Hurt
me, make me scream,” Dante gasped,
so I can forget about her.

Letting
go of Dante’s neck, Jade lowered his mouth to—

Dante
screamed as Jade bit down on his nipple.

13

Corey

Sunday

Corey woke to the sound of
music coming from somewhere nearby, possibly in an adjoining building. He
yawned and stretched, his sleepy mind taking in the strange surroundings, with
the camera equipment and the walls that stopped well before the ceiling. The
memory of what had happened the night before started to seep back in, like the
sunshine breaking through the windows running across the warehouse. He wanted
to shut it all out, along with the image of Sledge’s angry face. He wiped his
eyes, the sleep clinging to their corners, the dampness of a tear wetting his
fingertip.

He
looked up at the corrugated ceiling, wishing Sledge wasn’t embarrassed by him
and that they didn’t have to pretend to just be friends. He didn’t get why
people came down so hard on gays, and especially not the religious, because if
God didn’t want him to be gay, then why was he made this way? And he didn’t
believe in the Devil explanation or the Sodom and Gomorrah one, the last having
been used by his youth minister to condemn gays with. No, not the story itself,
just the way the minister had interpreted it, plus the prick wouldn’t stop
ragging on about the name Sodom being used for sodomy. But Corey had gotten him
back by asking what sodomy meant, even though he damn well knew. The stick up
the arse minister had gotten so embarrassed, and even more so when Corey had
questioned why guys thought it was alright to butt-fuck a female, but not a
male. The minister had spluttered that it was wrong to do it to anyone, because
sodomy was a sin, and that Corey shouldn’t be asking such vile questions.
Fucking arsehole. Corey smiled, thinking those words were apt.

The
sound of a door opening broke through his thoughts. Corey pushed up, expecting
to see Tyler, but instead a tall man stepped inside. Remembering he was wearing
only his boxers and beanie, Corey pulled the bedcovers over him, wondering
whether he was in trouble.

As
the man drew closer, a slow smile spread across his rough features.
“How
nice of Tyler to bring me lunch,” he said, his voice strange, like he was
purposely trying to sound haughty, “because I’m definitely going to toss
your
salad.”

Although
he didn’t understand the comment, Corey pretty much guessed it was sexual,
which didn’t bode well for him right now, considering he was lying in a bed
probably where fucking happened more than sleeping. “No, I’m not here to do
porn.”

“What
a shame, but it still doesn’t mean I can’t eat you out,” the man said, stopping
at the end of the bed.

Corey
stared in shock, because he
definitely
knew what that meant.

Grinning,
the man hooked his thumbs into his belt. He looked like a hired thug, his
crooked nose giving the appearance that it had been broken a few times, yet his
clothes screamed wealth. The cut of his pants accentuated his powerful thighs,
while the top buttons of his crisp white shirt were left open, displaying a
thin gold chain with a cross over a hairy chest. If Corey wasn’t so scared,
he’d be drooling.

“So,”
the man said, “are you going to let me find out whether you taste as sweet as
you look?”

“No,
I taste like shit,” Corey blurted out, stunned that a complete stranger would
ask him that.

The
man laughed. “Not if you clean your hole first.”

Corey’s
eyes bugged out. “
Duuuude,
did you just say that?!”

“I
most certainly did, and by the way, why are you in my bed?”

“I
had an argument with my boyfriend, so Tyler said I could stay the night.”

“If
I were him, I would’ve taken you to my place.”

“I
couldn’t face his place.”

“Why?”

“His
f-father a-attacked me there, almost killed me,” he stuttered, upset at the
memory. The lawyer had told him he needed to testify at the trial, but Corey
could barely speak about what had happened let alone get up on a stand.

“He
attacked me too,” the man said, “though the end result was different.” He sat
down on the bed and clamped a hand on Corey’s cast, which was sticking out from
under the covers.

Corey
went to move it away, but the man tightened his grip. “Let go of my cast,
dude.”

The
man let go. “Firstly, stop calling me
dude
, and secondly, don’t look so
scared; I wouldn’t hurt one of my mate’s friends.”

“It’s
not that, I just don’t like strangers touching me.”

“Then
let’s not be strangers.” The man held out a hand. “I’m Anthony Torres, but most
people call me Ant.”

Corey
hesitated for a moment, then shook Ant’s hand, not wanting to be rude to
Tyler’s boss. “I’m Corey Connor.”

Tugging
Corey closer, Ant ran a finger over his eyebrows.

Corey
jerked his head to the side. “What are you doin’?”

“I
love redheads. Show me your hair,” Ant said, going for Corey’s beanie.

“NO!!!”
Corey grabbed it with his free hand, holding it down.

Ant
whipped his hand back, looking surprised.

“So-sorry,”
Corey said, his heart pounding like crazy. “I have no hair.”

Ant
frowned. “Why?”

“I
have cancer,” Corey said, wanting to play the sick card for the first time
ever, because maybe the guy would stop harassing him.

“You’re
not going to die, are you?”

“Pro’bly
not, my treatment’s goin’ well.”

Ant
ran his hand over Corey’s cast. “Poor sweetheart, I should have a word with
Tyler for leaving you alone.”

“No,
it’s not his fault, I told him to leave cos he wanted to fuck me.” Corey’s face
dropped. “Crap, I didn’t meana say that, sometimes shit just flies outta my mouth.”

Ant
grinned. “So, is that why you taste like shit?”

“What?”

“If
shit flies out of your mouth, then that explains why you think you taste like
shit.”

“Oh,
I forgot I said that.”

Ant
continued to grin. “I would love to prove you wrong, because I can’t imagine
those juicy lips of yours tasting anything but sweet.”

Corey
shook his head. “Nah, I puked last night, so I’d taste of chunder.”

“First
it was shit, now it’s chunder. It sounds like you’re trying to put me off.
Maybe I should take offense to that.”

“No,
I did chunder, I really did. I almost scored Tyler’s car with it.”

“You
say the cutest things.”

“Talking
’bout chundering is hardly cute.”

“It
is when it comes out of
your
mouth. You have the face of an angel yet
the mouth of a devil.”

Corey
kept quiet, although he wanted to tell the guy he was a weirdo and to fuck off.

Ant
patted the cast again. “So, I suppose I should let you get dressed.”

“Yes,
please,” Corey said, relieved that Ant was finally backing off.

“Well,
since you were so polite, I’ll help you.” Ant picked up Corey’s track-pants and
started pulling them over the cast. Speechless, Corey stared down at Ant’s dark
hair, not believing the guy was dressing him.

Ant
stopped at Corey’s knees and looked up. “I know this might sound strange, but have
you ever considered modelling?”

Corey
snorted a laugh, the comment taking him by surprise.

“What’s
so funny?” Ant asked.

“Sorry,
I didn’t meana be rude, but seriously? I’m bald, skinny and pale, AND have a
broken leg. Not exactly model material.”

“Model
material is whatever sells and you would definitely sell. And it pays very
well. Are you interested?”

“You’re
just saying that to get into my pants.”

“I’ve
already got your pants.” Ant grinned. “But I’m more interested in lining my
pockets.”

“I
still don’t think you wanna photograph me.”

“Why?
You’re a pretty little thing, really, really cute, and I know a number of men
who would shell out big bucks to get pictures of you.”

“Again,
I doubt it,” Corey said, not appreciating the ‘pretty’ or ‘cute’ remarks.

“Why
don’t you believe me?” Ant waved a hand about, indicating to the photo
equipment surrounding the bed. “Do you think these are for decoration?”

“It’s
not that, it’s just what you’re saying sounds unreal, cos I’m
not
cute
or pretty. Except for my boyfriend, my mates would replace those words with
‘shithead’ and ‘chunk-stain’,”
the last one courtesy of Tama, actually, both
were—along with ‘fag’.

Ant’s
brows pulled together. “What does
chunk-stain
mean?”

“It
means a person’s fat and has food stains on their clothes.”

“But
you’re nothing like that.”

“I
used to be before I got cancer. Food now gives me gut-ache, so I don’t eat
much.”

“Well,
ignore your friends, because if I didn’t know what looks good, I wouldn’t have
a house in Herne Bay, a villa in Spain and a chauffeur out front, and it’s boys
like you who earn me the money to pay for all of that. So, will you model for
me? I pay well.”

“How
well?” Corey asked, now curious. He still didn’t believe the guy was interested
in anything but fucking, but if Ant was stupid enough to give him money for
some photos then who was he to say no?

“Six
hundred dollars,” Ant said, “cash in hand.”

Corey’s
brows shot up. “Are. You. Serious?”

“Very.”

“Nah,
you’re having me on.”

“Then
I’ll get the money to prove it.” Ant removed Corey’s track-pants, taking them
with him as he left the room.

Corey
looked down at his legs, wondering why the hell Ant had walked off with his
pants. Ant returned a few minutes later, holding out a wad of cash for Corey to
take. Corey took it, totally in awe at how much he was holding.

“You
could buy an X-Box and some really cool games with that,” Ant said.

Corey
looked up at Ant. “Yeah, I’ve been aching for one of those, but my mum kept
saying it cost too much.”

“That
money is more than enough to get you one.”

“But
the games ain’t cheap either.”

“Yes
they are.”

“For
you maybe, but I get shit all money to live on.”

“Which
is why you should model for me, and if you don’t want to waste your money on
games, I’m quite happy to let you borrow mine.”

“Do
you have
Mafia
? I really want it so I can beat my cousin’s smug arse.”

Ant
smiled. “I most certainly do and I’ll show you how to master each level.”

“That
would be so cool.”

“Excellent,
then let’s get started with those photos.”

Corey’s
smile dropped. “I still can’t model for you.”

“Why
not?”

“My
cast. It’s hard changing out of clothes, plus I needa keep my beanie on, cos I
look like a freakin’ alien without hair.”

“Don’t
worry about your beanie, it’ll make you look more… innocent, which is what I’m
after. And you won’t have to worry about changing in and out of clothes,
because I’m an erotic photographer.”

Corey’s
mouth dropped open, although he didn’t know why he was so shocked, since he
knew what Ant did, just thought that the guy had meant clothes modelling,
because no one would want to see his skinny arse.

Ant
laughed. “Close your mouth before you swallow a fly.”

Corey
shut it with a snap, then shook his head, completely dumbstruck. “Why would you
wanna take nude pics of me?”

“You
don’t need to be naked in erotic photography, but if you’re open to nude shots,
then I’ll pay you even more.”

“No
way! Only Sledge is allowed to see my pecker.”

“Is
Sledge your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,”
Corey said, hoping that was still true.

“I’ve
only heard of one person called Sledge. Your boyfriend wouldn’t be Ash Rata’s
baby brother by any chance?”

“Yeah,
how do ya know Ash?”

“We
were friends back in high school.”

Corey
smiled. “Which means you knew Sledge when he wuz li’l?”

“Yes,
he was a chubby thing, always eating, and his twin sister was just as bad.”

Corey
laughed. “He definitely isn’t now; he’s totally ripped with loads of muscles.
He should be the one modelling, not me, cos you’d make a megaton if
he
stripped.”

“Not
really, I prefer taking pictures of twinks, and he doesn’t sound like one.”

Corey
screwed up his nose. “Don’t call me a twink. It makes me feel scared to bend
over.”

Ant
laughed. “You’re funny.”

“I
wuzn’t joking. I had some creeps following me last night, threatening to fuck
me. If I wuzn’t a ‘twink’ and wuz big like Sledge, I wouldn’t be gettin’ rape
threats or gay-bashed.”