WARNING: Although this mentions real people, this is in NO WAY a real situation or an inferred situation. This never happened, never will happen, and is not to imply that it even could happen. For entertainment purposes ONLY.

I could almost pretend sometimes, if I closed my eyes and blocked out the lights... I could almost pretend that we're not where we really are and he's not who he really is and that it's something completely different and somewhere completely different and not here and not like this and not feeling like this...

But I'm not like that. I'm a professional, and this is my job and this is his job, and he's just fucking good at his job and so am I and so that's why this feels like it does.

Right?

Because I shouldn't really be feeling this, shouldn't really be getting goosebumps, because it's not cold in here, it's perfectly warm, and I feel heat on the back of my neck and down my spine, but still there's prickles on my back where his fingers trace silent patterns across my skin, where he doesn't really have to touch me because it's not even in the shot, and you won't be able to see it anyway, yet he *does* touch me and I feel it inside, in my stomach, my throat, my dick.

My dick.

Hard in my pants, and I know that he feels that, of course he feels my cock, he has to, I mean it's right there, brushing against his thigh. So hard it kind of hurts, so hard it's embarrassing. Not just like a friction erection, the kind he gets and I get just from rubbing against each other. Can't help that kind.

No... this is the kind of hard on you get from being fucking turned on. The kind you get from watching porn or reading dirty books or going to the clubs and staring at the go go boys grinding in their cages. The kind that says, suck me, fuck me, let me bury my cock in your ass...

Yeah, that kind.

And we're in the middle of the scene and I almost forget my lines, almost forget what Justin is supposed to say, then remember that there are no lines here, nothing to say and it just makes me want to suddenly spurt out what *I* want to say... words about how fucking hot he is and how much I really want him to fuck me, and how I want his cum shooting in my tight ass. Because I've never had a guy like him before, not in real life, not for real, for fucking, for being fucked. No, I've never even been attracted to guys like him before, guys that are all macho and grungy and quirky and kinda fucked up and...

Straight.

No, not usually attracted to straight guys.

Fuck, then we're there, at the part of the scene that I was dreading and looking forward to intensely. The part where he's going to kiss me, and I anticipate it, want it, look at him willingly, eagerly, wantonly... look at him like I really am fucking 19 and don't really know what the world has to offer yet, look at him like I really am so fucking in love with him, parting my lips and letting my tongue sit on the edge of my teeth, ready for those hard kisses he gives, ready to sink inside his mouth and close my eyes and pretend...

I mean we *are* acting. And acting is just pretending. It's all just pretend. Make-believe.

Any second now he's going to grab me. Wrap his strong arms around my waist and pull me into his grip and I'll get that hard, sudden contact of his body against mine. I wait for it, try and prepare myself for it, but when it comes, his warm palm pushing in the small of my back, fingers scratching at my neck, arms gripping my skin tightly, I suck in a breath and he grins a little, as Brian, as Gale, I don't know. Grins because he knows he really got me, because there are some things that you just can't pretend.

Then it's just Brian kissing Justin, and Justin desperately trying to keep up. The director told us that Brian's trying to hurt Justin by letting him know what he's giving up. By letting him know that Brian knows that Justin's fucking someone else. And the scene gets intense--beyond intense. Gale and I went through the motions a few times, so we'd know where the camera would be as it was spinning around us, know what mark to hit when he pulled me down to the floor.

But we didn't really go through this, go into this, didn't really practice the kissing and fucking raping of my mouth that he's doing right now. Didn't talk about his hand down my pants, his tongue fucking my mouth, the little moans he's making in his throat.

No, we didn't talk about any of that.

Because it's just acting. Pretend.

But suddenly this doesn't feel like acting or make-believe, it feels real, more than fucking real. He keeps pulling me up, sliding his leg between my thighs and pressing into my crotch, pushing me higher to meet his lips and goddamn it's making me even harder and I forget about Justin, forget about Brian, just feel Gale's tongue sliding into my mouth, slithering across mine in a way that's so fucking intimate that it just *can't* be acting, has to be something more. Has to mean something more.

Having someone's tongue inside your mouth isn't something you do lightly, isn't something you do with just anybody. But we never really talked about it, never really laid down boundaries or comfort levels. All I know is that he's never shy about it. Never hesitates to lick inside my mouth with his coffee stained tongue, because he knows I love it, and that I want it. That I want him.

He knows it in the way that he knows I'm queer and knows Hal isn't and there's a fucking difference when we kiss. He knows it in the way that he knows I love and I hate these scenes. That my heart leaps and I cringe all at the same time when I see them written on the page. He must know. Has to know.

My lips feel raw and my face is so hot, and I hope it doesn't show up on camera. Hope that no one can see my trembling fingers, my flushed cheeks, my dilated pupils. Hope the grunts my throat can't be heard.

But then I lose myself and let go, not caring what's real and what's pretend. I forget about the spinning cameras and the bright lights and the five people standing behind us watching. Forget about all that for a few seconds and make it really real. For the audience, for Justin, for me. Make it real like I've wanted it to be real, and he's pushing back, surprising me over and over and taking me harder and more intensely than he needs to and the kiss goes on and on and on and he rips off my jacket and I stand there a little shocked as he twists my body out of the clothing.

Mere milliseconds pass and I think he's going to push me to the floor now, end this now, end this before something happens, before I lose control, before I lose myself for real and let Justin take over.

But no, there's more, there's hot, damp palms on the back of my head, fingers digging into my shoulders and that mouth, God, his mouth on mine eating my lips, devouring me.

This isn't acting.

Can't be.

I pretend it isn't.

And then it's over and I wish it wasn't, and he pulls me down to the ground, crumpling on top of me, pressing me to the hard floor with his leg between mine, hard, hard, hard against my cock and it's almost too much, I almost want to squirm away and scream "Stop!"

Then the camera's not on us anymore and they're setting up for the next shot, the floor shot, and Gale's panting, his head resting on my shoulder, gasping for breath. We didn't need to pretend this one.

The spinning camera rolls away, and we should get up now, should go take our spot on the floor under the spotlight where we have to do this again, continue this scene, do it more and more and I don't fucking think I can take it. Don't fucking... oh...

Gale slowly shifts on top of me, sighing loudly and laughing a little, and I hear him put his palms on the floor to push himself up, but I grab the back of his neck quickly to stop him.

"Just hang on," I whisper harshly, despite myself, despite my ego. I don't care if he knows, but I don't want the whole fucking crew witnessing the hard rock in my jeans. This is between him and me.

He relaxes against me again, leaning into me, his head resting against my shoulder and he lets out a long slow breath. Hair brushing against me, body so warm, so fucking warm, and he touches me softly on the temple.

"Guys? Okay?" I hear a yell across the set and I feel my back straighten.

But Gale ignores it and sighs again. They leave us alone.

"I can't get out of character," I whisper into his hair, and I hear his mouth open and I hope he's smiling. I fucking hope he's not laughing at me.

He lifts up a little to stare down at me, a sweet smile across his face. A smile that Brian would never wear, a smile I've only ever seen from Gale. He pecks me lightly on the lips and presses his forehead to mine, a move that I figured out early on was something that Gale gave to Brian. Something Gale does, always had done, I imagine.

"You're not helping," I struggle out, wishing I could laugh at this stupid situation, stand up and brush myself off. Will away my hard on.

"Feel like you're gonna cum?" he whispers darkly into my face, and I feel electricity shoot through me fucking hot and wild and I can't control it.

My face flushes even brighter and I open my mouth to say something, anything. To chastise him for making fun of me. To swear at him for being an asshole. To whisper back that I am so fucking close to shooting I can't stand it.

But I don't get to say any of that.

"Christ, because I feel like *I'm* gonna cum," he laughs a little and his breath flows down into my face.

Fuck.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I didn't really need to hear that.

Well, okay yeah, I *did* need to hear that. But... I didn't really.

"You are not," I say back, feeling shy all of a sudden. Feeling like I don't know him. Like I don't know how to act around him. This guy who's got his fucking leg jammed in my crotch, and my leg is pressed between his thighs, and his body is heavy on mine, sharing breath and saliva and heartbeats.

Feel like I don't know him. But I totally do. Know him more than I ever thought I could know him.

"Am too," he says again, snickering a little and the childish words make me laugh out loud, breaking the tension and it's okay now. It's all okay.

It's just a scene and it's just friction or whatever making me feel like this. And making him feel like this.

Because he's straight and I'm gay and we're never going to be together. No matter how it feels or I want it to feel. This can't work. And of course it's not going to work. There's nothing *to* work. I'm... I'm just being stupid. Channeling Justin and pretending Gale's Brian and that's stupid and fucked up and I'm just tired and it's been a long day and I'm lonely here in Toronto and I miss my ex-boyfriend and I'm hungry and...

This is just acting. My job. His job.

"Okay?" he whispers into my face so no one else will hear.

I nod and he slowly pushes himself up off me, leaving me feeling flattened to the floor. I feel cold and a little naked lying here on the ground, and quickly stand up, crossing my arms over my chest.

Gale's asking the director where he wants us, and pointing to the area under the spotlight. They've put a thin rug on the ground so it's not as hard on my back when Gale rips my shirt off and pushes me to the floor.

I watch him for a second, stare at the side of his face and he's nodding, then rubs his hands across his eyes and takes a deep breath. I turn away. Can't look at Gale right now. I only want to see Brian, so I don't associate the wringing of my stomach, the tingle in my balls, the warmth in my face with Gale. It's all Brian. Has to be.

I kneel on the floor and he comes over and kneels in front of me, pecking me lightly on the lips.

"Ready?" he asks, and I see something in his eyes, see anticipation and lust and I know I'm imagining it, have to be imagining it, because we're just acting.

That's all it is.

Nothing more.

Just acting.