Beautiful Box Set

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Johnny dreams of cameras, hundreds of them blinking at him, flashing in a staccato pattern of dark and light. He feels like an icon, an idol, placed on a pedestal and worshipped from afar. Each light is an offering to him, promising immortality. The glow is heady, and a million suns explode around him, delighting in his presence.

But he’s alone in the light. It’s stark and lonely, and the pedestal shrinks as Johnny stands on it, the wide rim growing smaller, until he’s standing on a piece of unsteady stone the size of a large dinner plate, then a tea saucer, then just the top of a narrow pillar, one foot on the other. He reaches out but no one’s close enough to help him balance. There’s no support behind him, no one but cameramen and their flashing lights. He totters and they step back, eager to keep snapping his picture, eager to watch him fall.

Hey, Johnny.

In the dream, the voice is Brett’s. Johnny looks over his shoulder but finds no one there, no one at all. “Brett?” he calls out. When there’s no response, he tries again, louder. “Brett?”

The snap of a camera’s shutter is his only reply.

He stirs amid his bed sheets and the dream dissipates. “Brett?” he murmurs, his arm reaching across the empty expanse of the bed. He finds the pillow his lover used the night before and fists his hand in the downy material. The sheets smooth over his legs as he stretches awake. “Where….”

An almost inaudible click startles him awake. His eyes flutter open.

Brett kneels on the bed, his nude body a glorious stretch of firm, tan skin that coalesces into a thick thatch of sandy curls at his crotch. He has his digital camera in both hands, aimed at Johnny, and a faint smile appears on his face. “There you are. Say cheese.”

Click.

For a moment Johnny lies there, stunned. Then the cool air pimples his bare thighs and he remembers he’s naked, too. Grabbing the sheets to his waist, he scurries back against the head of the bed, anger seeping through his sleepy brain. “Brett!” he cries, hiding beneath the sheets. “Jesus, what the f**k—”

“Calm down.” Brett takes another picture of him, frowns at the image on the digital camera’s display, then deletes it. “Do you know how damn cute you look when you sleep?”

Johnny pulls his knees up to his chest and tucks the sheets in around his feet. “I am buck naked,” he says, as if this little fact might have escaped Brett’s notice.

The photog only shrugs. “So? Me, too. What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Johnny starts, then he sighs. “Brett, if those pics get around—”

“They won’t,” Brett assures him. He fiddles with some settings on the camera and doesn’t quite look Johnny in the eye. They’ve been together long enough that Johnny knows he’s mad. “I’m not stupid, Johnny. This is my personal camera, okay? No one touches it but me.”

“Still.” Johnny pouts, unwilling to let his ire go so easily. “You should’ve asked.”

Brett reminds him, “You were asleep. You looked carefree and innocent and so sexy, what was I supposed to do? Wake you up to say hey, stay right like that, I want to take your picture?”

True. Much as he hates to admit it, Johnny’s secretly pleased Brett thinks he’s sexy. Running a hand through his hair, he concedes, “Well, as long as no one else sees it.”

“Tish might, but don’t worry, she’s cool.” The offhand way Brett says it makes Johnny laugh, surprised. He isn’t sure if Brett’s kidding or not—the slight grin on his lover’s face is ambiguous. There’s a twinkle in his eye, too, that says he might be joking. “A daily dose of d**k might do her good now and then.”

Johnny grins, embarrassed. “Brett….”

“Check out this fine cock.” Still on his knees, Brett comes over to where Johnny sits against the headboard. He crawls into a tight space between Johnny and his pillow and holds the camera up for Johnny to see. The images of him asleep are sexy—the white sheets give his skin a dusky hue, and his d**k looks long and thick, now stretched out between his legs, now draped over the top of his thigh, now pointing at his navel. Johnny’s tousled hair looks windswept, and the morning sun streaming in through the window dapples his chest, accentuating muscles he normally doesn’t see.

He relaxes, easing an arm around Brett’s shoulders. Brett scrolls through half a dozen pictures, each just slightly different from the last, and by the time they reach the final frame, his arm is draped around Johnny’s waist and he’s snuggled up close beside him. “Look at that d**k,” he says, turning to plant a wet kiss in Johnny’s armpit. “Oh so lickable. That’s my man.”

Embarrassed, Johnny buries his nose in the hair on top of Brett’s head and breathes in the clean scent of his shampoo. His hand toys with the bangs that still stand at attention like soldiers along Brett’s temples. Leaning against him, Brett sticks out his tongue to taste Johnny’s pert n****e, a ticklish move that sets Johnny snickering. When he tries to push Brett away, his lover bites at the teat, catching it between his teeth. The sensation is maddening. “Stop,” Johnny says, breathless with laughter. He squirms away but Brett holds him tight. “Brett—”

“Kiss me,” Brett breathes.

He sits back, pulling Johnny with him. Their mouths brush over each other in a barely-there buss, then Brett tugs him down, trapping himself between Johnny and the headboard as his tongue licks Johnny’s lips. Johnny delves into him, hungry, every inch of his body wakening at Brett’s touch. His hands find the stiffening length at Brett’s crotch, and suddenly the small space in the corner of the bed isn’t big enough for them—he wants to stretch out, feel every part of this man against his body, savor the moment and the touches, the kisses, the love. He wants—

Click.

He opens one eye and can see the camera in the corner of his vision. It’s raised and pointing at them again, at him. Brett’s half-turned from their kiss to watch as he fires off another shot, and a third. “Brett,” Johnny growls. “Put it away already, will you?”

One final snap, and the camera falls to the bed. Brett takes control of the moment, pushing Johnny back to lay him down across the mattress. Their kisses turn heated, their breath comes fast and hot, and they pause only to retrieve a lubricated condom from the table next to Brett’s side of the bed. On his back, Johnny spreads his legs wide, his feet on Brett’s knees, as his lover rolls the condom onto his thick erection. Then Brett crawls over him, his d**k poking between Johnny’s ass cheeks, and his ardent kisses distract Johnny from the slow burn that spirals through his groin as Brett eases into him. They find a steady rhythm that knocks the headboard against the wall and makes them both moan with delight.

Beside them on the bed, the camera stares as they couple, its lens unseeing, its shutter still.