Triumph

Copyright August 4-5, 2005
by Matthew Haldeman-Time
 

I am writing about men having sex with other men.  You must be eighteen or older to read my fiction.  This site is for consenting, responsible adults only.



            “Who is this guy?” Dakota asked.

            “Kenneth Talley,” Blaine said, hurrying through the produce section.  “I hope I haven’t missed him.”  One of his friends had called with the rumor that Kenneth was in the store, and Blaine had rushed over right away.  He was just lucky that the friend of a friend of a friend had happened to catch a glimpse.  Kenneth was in town to film some video on location around the local national park.

            “Who’s Kenneth Talley?”  Dakota managed to keep pace with Blaine while still appearing to stroll nonchalantly.

            “He’s a fitness instructor,” Blaine said.  “He has a series of workout videos and his own TV show.  He’s mastered every martial art.  I heard his hands were registered as a lethal weapon.  He has the most incredible muscle definition I’ve ever seen.”

            “Really.”  There was a quirk of curiosity in Dakota’s bored drawl.  A great body could get his attention every time.

            “His pecs are unbelievable.  His abs are perfectly cut.  His thighs…”  Blaine didn’t even know how to describe them.

            “So he’s hot,” Dakota said.

            “Of course he’s hot,” Blaine said, unable to believe that anyone could be unaware of the awesome appeal of Kenneth Talley.  “He dated Marcus Underwood.”

            “What?”  Suddenly, Dakota was interested.  “Marcus Underwood?”

            Typical, for that to catch Dakota’s attention.  Marcus was the most notorious top at Dakota’s favorite porn company.  “They were lovers for almost two years.”  Oh, god.  Blaine skidded to a halt beside the peanut butter.  Kenneth Talley.

            Dakota whistled, tilting his head to one side.  “Damn.”

            Staring, Blaine swallowed drool.  Six feet, two inches of muscular, masculine perfection.  Kenneth had military-short blond hair.  A light tan gave his skin a healthy glow.  Jeans hugged his hard thighs and showed off the perfect, taut curves of his ass.  His casual green T-shirt did nothing to hide his powerful chest or strong arms, and matched his eyes perfectly.

            “Marcus Underwood’s dick and that ass,” Dakota said.  “That would be Oscar-worthy material.”

            “Kenneth Talley’s videos aren’t jack-off tapes, they’re instructional fitness films,” Blaine whispered, still staring.  He might have masturbated to them once or twice, but he saw no reason to mention that to Dakota.

            “And one, and two, and pump that dick,” Dakota murmured, snickering.  “Let’s go say hi.”

            “Don’t you dare!”  He didn’t trust Dakota not to do something embarrassing, say something mortifying, or end up taking Kenneth home.  He had no chance of going home with Kenneth himself, but he wasn’t about to let Dakota fuck Kenneth, either.

            “Hi,” Dakota said boldly, walking right over with a smile.

            Shit!  Blaine scrambled after him.  “You’re dead to me,” he whispered as they approached Kenneth together.

            “Kenneth, right?” Dakota asked, still smiling.  So charming.  So full of shit.

            Kenneth Talley smiled right back, at Dakota first, then at Blaine, then at Dakota again.  His smile showed off those dimples that softened every torturous instruction of his rigorous workout routines, and when he spoke, his voice had that familiar deep yet gentle sound that always made Blaine sweat, whether exercising his entire body or just his right hand.  “Hi.  Call me Ken.”

            “I’m Barbie,” Dakota said, shaking his hand.  “This is Skipper.”

            “I’m Blaine,” Blaine corrected, flustered, grinning like a geek.  “This is Dakota.”

            “So, what are you doing in town?” Dakota asked.  “How’s Marcus?”

            “I’m here to do some work,” Ken said with a warmly polite yet puzzled smile.  “Marcus is just fine.  Have we met?”

            “No, but I’m a big fan,” Dakota said with a big smile.  “Of both of your…bodies of work.”

            “Thanks,” Ken said.  “You should come down to the shoot tomorrow, over at the park.”

            “I was hoping to see you a little sooner than that,” Dakota said.  “What are you doing tonight?”

            “I’m sure that he’s very busy,” Blaine said, giving Dakota a quick, hard look, wanting to smack him.  Blaine was not going to let Dakota get balls-deep in Kenneth Talley.  That ass was sacred.  There was no way that Dakota could appreciate it.  Someone as amazing as Kenneth Talley deserved better than being treated like a piece of meat.

            “What about you?” Ken asked.  “What are you doing?”

            Blaine stared, dumbstruck.  Ken was looking right at him.  Asking him, personally, specifically, Ken was asking him.  His mouth opened.  “Uh…”

            “Blaine’s a huge fan,” Dakota said.  “He just loves getting in a good sweaty workout.  I’m sure that he’d love to do it with you.  You’d probably have some great pointers for him.”

            Why hadn’t he left Dakota behind?  What was wrong with him?  Why hadn’t he learned?  It was dangerous to have Dakota anywhere near actual people.  Especially anyone Blaine wanted to leave with a good impression.  “I’m sorry,” he said to Ken.  “He didn’t get his shots this week.”

            “Maybe while he takes care of that, you could spend some time with me,” Ken said.  “I came in here to kill time before the movie starts next door.  After the movie, I’ll need a ride back to the hotel.”

            “Blaine loves movies,” Dakota said.  “Don’t you, Blaine?”

            Blaine stared at Ken.  How many hours had he spent gazing into Ken’s green eyes, and now Ken wanted to take him to the movies?

            “He’d just love to give you a ride,” Dakota said.  “To the hotel.”

            “To the hotel,” Ken repeated, and gave Blaine a sexy, private smile.  “Come on, it starts in a few minutes.”  He held out his hand.

            Ken’s hand was right there, waiting for his.  Ken wanted to be touched by him.  Ken had invited him on a date?  He was about to go out with Kenneth Talley.

            Blaine slid his hand into Ken’s and met those green eyes again.  He didn’t remember seeing anything else until they were outside, standing in front of the movie theater.

            “What do you want to see?” Ken asked.

            “Whatever you wanted to see,” Blaine said.  A blank screen would be fine.  He was on a date with Kenneth Talley.  The hottest man in America.

            “I don’t even know what’s playing,” Ken said, with a warm smile.  “I just wanted to ask you out.”

            Wow.  This had to be a dream.  Or a practical joke.  Or such a wildly wonderful moment that something tragic was about to happen to balance it out.  Blaine glanced up in case a piano was about to fall on him.

            “I know we just met, but I don’t know anyone around here, and I’ve been kind of lonely, the past few days, by myself in the hotel.  We’ve been shooting all over the country for weeks now, and I’m going out of my mind.  Marcus is in the middle of some back-to-back filming, so he hasn’t been able to come out and visit me.”

            Marcus?  “You’re back together?” Blaine asked.  That would be awesome.  That would also be confusing, because he had the impression that he and Ken were sort of on a date, but he’d been heavily invested in Marcus and Ken’s relationship.  A sex icon and the embodiment of physical perfection, lovers?  It was fantastic.

            “Oh, no,” Ken said.  “We’re just friends.  Best friends, I love him like crazy, but we aren’t lovers anymore.”

            Damn.  He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.  But who could be just friends with Marcus Underwood?  Then again, who could be just friends with Ken Talley?  How could two men that hot be in the same room and not have sex?  Why was that even possible?

            “So…”  Ken put an arm around his waist, gazing up at the marquee.  Ken had the hardest body that Blaine had ever had the pleasure of pressing against.  The hand on Blaine’s hip squeezed gently.  “Do you want to see invading aliens, rogue FBI agents, talking animals, or slapstick?”



            At the refreshment stand, Ken ordered a bottle of water.  Blaine eyed the popcorn, but ordered a fruit drink.

            During the movie, Blaine paid more attention to the warm sound of Ken’s happy laughter than to the plot.

            After the movie, Ken signed a few autographs in the lobby.  Blaine wanted one, but didn’t want to embarrass himself by breaking into fan behavior in the middle of a date.  He’d automatically thrown away his empty juice bottle, and Ken had the ticket stubs, so he was going to end up with nothing to show for his night out with Kenneth Talley.  Dakota was his only real witness, and Dakota wasn’t exactly reliable.  By the time Ken said good night, Blaine was going to have no evidence that their date had ever happened.

            Together, they walked to Blaine’s car.  He wished that he had something nicer than a two-year-old sedan, but Ken didn’t seem to notice anything unworthy about it.

            Once they were in the car, Blaine realized how much space Ken filled.  He wasn’t overly bulky, but he had a gorgeously powerful build, much better than anyone else who’d ever been in the passenger seat.

            On the way to Ken’s hotel, which was the fanciest one in town, they talked about the workouts Ken was filming, and about Blaine’s job, and about the national parks Ken used for locations, and about Blaine’s hobbies and friends.  Ken genuinely seemed interested in Blaine, his desk job, and his vintage record collection.  Either Ken was the biggest fake Blaine had met, or truly a nice person who, for no obvious reason, liked him.

            The Ken-as-a-fake theory made a lot more sense, but those friendly green eyes and that warm, dimpled smile seemed honest.

            Which led Blaine to wonder why.  Why would Ken pick him up, instead of anyone else in town?  Dakota had been right beside him, and sure, Dakota could be an asshole, but Dakota was also very hot.  Ken must have met someone else around town.  Why was he the one Ken chose to take to the movies?

            Ken dated actual, infamous, porn stars.

            Really good porn stars.  Marcus Underwood had been a legend since he’d shown up as Mark Wood in his very first role, nine years ago, in Triple Penetration IV.  That one was still a classic.

            Pulling into a space and turning off the car, Blaine wondered what to expect.  He’d do anything Ken wanted.  He was a little afraid to touch Ken; he wasn’t used to being around anyone fantastically gorgeous, and Ken was literally a wet dream come true for him.  He couldn’t possibly give head as well as Marcus, that was pretty much a given, and his dick wasn’t overwhelming in its proportions like Marcus’, but he was willing and eager to do his best.  He’d been awed by Ken for years; he was ready to pay homage in any way Ken preferred.

            “Thanks for the ride.”  Ken smiled at him, squeezing his thigh.  “You don’t have to go home right now, do you?”

            “I’m free,” Blaine said.  Perfectly free and available.  Nervous, but getting hard, especially with Ken’s hand right there.

            “Great.”  A flash of dimples.

            Blaine was actually going to fuck Kenneth Talley.  He had to call Dakota.  He had to get Ken to sign his dick.  He had to get proof of this moment.  He was going to bury his dick in the perfect ass of the hottest man in America.

            Ken’s room was on the ground floor.  When he unlocked the door, he said, “Welcome to my,” and stopped talking.

            Blaine looked into the room.

            Marcus Underwood stood from the bed.  “Who’s he?”

            This couldn’t possibly be happening.



            Blaine wakened.  His eyes opened to the sight of his own alarm clock and, beyond it, his own bedroom wall.

            A dream.  It had been a dream.

            Of course it had been a dream.  Meeting a celebrity, a fitness guru, in a grocery store?  Suddenly being invited on a date?  Subsequently meeting a notorious porn star?  And what would have happened after that, they’d all pile into Ken’s bed together?

            Kenneth Talley, like he’d really-

            Whoa.

            Blaine sat up.

            “Morning,” Marcus said.

            Oh.  Holy.  Fucking.  God.

            Last night.  He and Ken and Marcus.  Marcus had come to surprise Ken.  They’d talked.  Marcus had been hungry, so they’d gone out to pick up something to eat, and Ken hadn’t wanted to go back to the hotel, was tired of hotels, wanted to be in someone’s actual home, so they’d come back to Blaine’s house, and…

            Oh.  Holy.  Fucking.  God.

            He’d had sex with Kenneth Talley and Marcus Underwood.

            Marcus relaxed to lounge on his back, arms behind his head, one knee bent.  Soft, his dick was larger than some men’s erections.  Blaine had sucked that dick last night.  He’d - - Blaine’s hand drifted back, gingerly, testing, awed.

            “Ken went for a jog,” Marcus said.  “I would’ve gone with him, but I didn’t want you to wake up and think we’d run out on you.”  He smiled.  “So to speak.”

            “No, that’s,” he didn’t even know what he was saying, “thanks.”  He was out of his mind.  He was hallucinating.  He was dreaming.  He’d hit his head.  He’d had sex with Kenneth Talley and Marcus Underwood!

            “I saw some doughnuts in the kitchen,” Marcus said.  “If we eat them before Ken gets back, we can escape a lecture.”

            “Okay.”  Marcus could have whatever he wanted.  Doughnuts.  Sex.  Blaine’s life savings.  He was so much hotter in person, it was ridiculous.  Right there on Blaine’s bed, talking about breakfast foods, he was smoldering.  Smoldering.  Blaine expected the sheets to catch fire.

            Then Marcus moved.  Sat up, got off of the bed, reached for Blaine and pulled him over and up.  By the time they were eye-to-eye, Blaine was breathless and his dick was getting hard.  He’d memorized every line of Marcus’ body, he’d salivated over every trademark move, he’d jacked off countless times to each detail of Marcus’ formidable sexual mastery.  And now…

            Marcus kissed him.  A quick, soft kiss.  Blaine’s toes curled; his dick twitched eagerly.  “We can fuck later,” Marcus said.  “We only have a few minutes to steal doughnuts.”

            “Right,” Blaine said, and let Marcus tug him into the kitchen.  They could fuck later.  They could fuck later.  This was the most elaborate dream, or the most elaborate practical joke, ever.



            Marcus Underwood, porn star, was naked in Blaine’s kitchen.  Eating chocolate doughnuts and drinking milk and discussing how to season chicken.

            Kenneth Talley, embodiment of masculine perfection, had come back, had lectured them on their breakfast choices, and now was naked in Blaine’s shower.

            The phone rang.  Marcus handed it to him and walked off, calling Ken’s name.

            “Hello,” Blaine said, watching Marcus’s ass.

            “So, stud, how’d it go last night?” Dakota asked.  “Did you score with the big jock?”

            “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Blaine said, and hung up.

            “Blaine!” Marcus called.  “Ken wants to know if you’re coming to the shoot today, and I want to know if there are any decent clubs we can hit tonight.”

            The shower stopped.  “Blaine!” Ken called, mocking Marcus.  “Tell Marcus that too many drinks and too many clubs are not part of a healthy lifestyle!”

            Unable to resist, Blaine walked back to the bathroom where, of course, Ken was damp and wore only a towel, and Marcus was naked, posing casually against the sink.  Marcus Underwood’s naked ass rested against Blaine’s sink.  He’d never wanted to kiss his own sink before.

            “Live fast, die young, and leave a well-hung corpse,” Marcus said with a trademark smirk.

            “Live healthy, look twenty years younger than you really are, and get laid forever,” Ken said.  “Are you coming to the park?” he asked Blaine.  His body was muscular perfection, and Blaine couldn’t take another second in the same room with it.

            “Is this happening?” he asked.  “Is this really happening?  I don’t know how I met you, I don’t know where you came from, I walked into a grocery store last night and bam!  Now I have a naked porn star in my bathroom!  And you want me to go to the set with you?!”

            “Are you okay?” Ken asked, running his hand over Blaine’s forehead.  “I think you fucked him too hard,” he said to Marcus, absently rubbing the back of Blaine’s neck.  His grip was so firm, Blaine instantly relaxed enough to want to drop to the floor.  “You knocked his brain loose.”

            “I could fuck you again,” Marcus offered Blaine with a knowing smile.  “That might knock things right.”

            Marcus?  Offering sex?  To him?  Again?  “Okay,” Blaine said immediately.  “Where do you want me?”



            Blaine had never been near a film crew before, but Marcus had, and he explained the differences between shooting a workout video segment and shooting porn.  When Ken was in front of the cameras, they watched him flash his dimples and coax viewers and demonstrate techniques that Blaine never would have tried without a doctor standing by.

            “I thought that you and Ken were just friends,” Blaine said.  Ken had such perfect muscle definition, he displayed muscles Blaine didn’t realize anyone actually had.

            “We are,” Marcus said.  “That’s the way he wants it.”

            “But…”  Wow.  Were human beings that flexible?  “Last night…  You seemed like more than friends,” Blaine said, not sure where the boundaries were.  None of this was any of his business to begin with.

            “I figured out that he’ll let me into his bed if there’s someone else in there with us,” Marcus said.

            Oh.  Blaine watched Ken twist, flex, punch, and kick.  “Does he know?”

            “I told him that I’m in love with him.  I asked him to come back to me.”  Marcus shrugged.  His gaze never left Ken.  “He doesn’t trust me.  I fuck for a living.  It’s hard for him to deal with.  I wouldn’t love him if it weren’t hard for him.”

            Marcus was in love with Ken, and the romantic in Blaine fluttered about ecstatically.  It was almost too perfect: Marcus triumphed over sex but struggled with love.  Blaine watched him watch Ken.  “If you love him…  If it’s only your job, then it’s work, it doesn’t mean anything.”

            “I explained that.  Logically, he understands it.  Emotionally, it’s too much for him to accept.”

            “He’s very…”  Blaine wasn’t sure how to describe it.  Someone that physically perfect should have been grossly narcissistic, but Ken was humble, and nice.

            “He’s a good person,” Marcus said.  “There isn’t a jaded bone in his body.  That’s why I love him.  Part of why.  I kept telling myself that I’d get out of the industry before I became cynical and bitter.  I didn’t realize that I was jaded before I ever got in.”

            Porn wasn’t exactly a wholesome, innocence-promoting environment.  “Does he love you?”

            “Yes.”  Marcus smiled briefly.  A real smile, not a sexual smirk.  A soft, happy smile.  Blaine had seen hours and hours of footage of Marcus Underwood, and he’d never been more beautiful than in that moment.  “I’m quitting.  This is my last year.”

            Marcus?  Quitting?  Millions of fans would be devastated.  Blaine would be devastated.  No more movies?  No more Marcus?  No more patented moves?  No more of that fabulous dick?

            He was abandoning his career for the man that he loved.

            Marcus was in love with Ken.  Ken was in love with Marcus.  Marcus was willing to step away from fame and give up his career to be with Ken.  It was the most stunningly romantic gesture that Blaine had ever witnessed.  His heart fluttered even more wildly, and he was even more grateful now that he’d shared last night with them, that he’d been given the gift of not only having had sex with two cultural icons, but also at having been allowed to witness this stage of their relationship.  There was no way he could go home with them again tonight.  They needed to be alone, together.

            “All of your fans will miss you,” Blaine said.  “You have no idea how much.”

            “I haven’t told Ken yet,” Marcus said.  “I don’t know how.  He’s always been supportive of my career, he’s always encouraged me and pushed me to do better.  It’s the only thing keeping us apart, and he’s still so proud of me for it.”  He smiled at Blaine.  “How could I not love him?”

            “He wouldn’t want you to quit?” Blaine asked.

            “No, he wouldn’t.  But I have to,” Marcus said, his gaze inevitably turning back to Ken.  “I know how stupid it looks to everyone else.  Giving up my career for some guy.  Choosing one man over getting to fuck anyone I want.”

            Since it was Marcus, that “anyone” was literal.

            “But I love him,” Marcus said.  “I’d choose him over any other possibility in the world.  I’ve had my time in the industry.  I’ve made my mark, I’ve accomplished everything I can.  Now I want to do this.  I want to be with him.”

            He’d seen Marcus fuck countless men.  He’d seen Marcus’ body from every possible angle.  He’d explored what were purported to be Marcus’ sexual fantasies.  But he’d never known that Marcus was romantic.  That Marcus wasn’t just a sex machine; Marcus was a person.  A human being.  A human being in love.

            “You should tell him,” Blaine said.  “You should tell him tonight.”

            “He’d tell me not to make sacrifices for him,” Marcus said.  There was that smile again.  That simple glimpse of love and happiness was more powerful than any forceful thrust.  “I’ll have to explain to him that it’s not a sacrifice at all.”



            That night, having left Ken and Marcus in Ken’s hotel room to their private conversation, Blaine went home.  He checked the mail, slid a TV dinner into the microwave, and answered the phone.

            “What’s going on?” Dakota asked.  “What have you been doing all day?”

            Blaine smiled.  “I’ve been witnessing the triumph of love over sex.”



matthew@matthewhaldemantime.com
Short stories
Home