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Jamie Fraser held his breath all the way to the shooting location. At least, it felt like he did. He’d been doing porn for the last two years or so. Straight porn only. He’d turned down offers to do gay-for-pay before, even offers for good money. This one that he’d agreed to hadn’t even been the largest sum he’d been offered. There was no logical reason Jamie would have finally agreed to something like this. No logical reason… but there was John Grey. Logic or no, he was the reason Jamie was here, his big knuckled fist knocking on this shifty-looking black door in a cramped alley in Inverness.

The door squealed open, revealing a short man with two lines of hair over his lips like swipes of ink.  “Oi, Jamie Fraser as I live an’ breathe.”

“Have we met?”

“No, but I reckon I’d know you anywhere, clothes or no. Blimey, you’re as big a bloke as they say you are.” His spindly fingers wrapped around Jamie’s wrist and the touch wriggled in his belly like a fat worm. “Come in, come in.”

Jamie hesitated, but then fortified himself with a deep, lung-stretching breath. He stepped over the threshold behind the man who seemed barely more than half his height, though twice or thrice his own age.

The surgical scent of latex prickled at Jamie’s nose, along with the stench of spermicide. Having been on porn sets for years, Jamie was familiar with the smell, but it still made him shiver. He was here for one thing. To get fucked by a man for the first time ever. And on camera at that. Jamie Fraser had never done anything with a man. That’s what was worth paying so goddamn much for, right? The fact that he’d never kissed a man or touched one intimately, never sucked a cock or had his cock sucked by a man nor had he ever fucked a man or been fucked by one. For that matter, he’d never even had anything in his arse before. Not a dildo or butt plug or even a finger.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph what was he doing here?

The sudden urge to flee was swallowed whole by a fully-naked and half-hard John Grey stepping into the corridor. Though the shaky fluorescent lights cast a bluish alien glow over his tan skin, Grey still managed to look… Jamie swallowed, not ready to think it, despite what was about to happen. 

God, was he staring? He felt like he was staring. No, I’m not staring, he decided.

A thin, young man appeared out of nowhere like a nervous-faced sprite and dropped to his knees before Grey, taking him into his mouth. Grey sunk his hand into the man’s dark locks and thrust into the man’s mouths a few times. If this little wisp of a thing was what got Grey off, Jamie wasn’t sure his massive, muscular frame would have much to interest the man. He told himself it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he could possibly be genuinely attracted to Grey anyway, so how could he expect more from the other? But they both had reputations as consummate professionals, actors in a sense, and they could do their jobs as required of them.

Grey was looking at him, and Jamie looked away quickly, realizing he had been staring at the man after all. 

A smile curved the man’s lips in one corner, then it faded away.

“That’ll be all, Tom,” Grey said, tugging the young man off his cock. “Thank you.”

Tom stood with a formality in stark contrast to the act he’d just been performing so openly. He nodded cordially to John Grey, then walked away. Grey’s eyes flashed once more to Jamie—at least, he thought they did—and he disappeared back into the room.

Jamie had been so absorbed in watching the man who was meant to fuck him that he only now realized the strangeness of the situation. It appeared that Grey was currently engaged in a shoot, but if Jamie had remembered the time correctly, he should be shooting with Jamie in about fifteen minutes.

He’d heard tales of John Grey’s prowess from women who’d been in threesomes with him. Still, the man was human. He couldn’t get it back up and get back off that quickly. There could be meds involved, but then Jamie had seen Grey’s half-hard prick. If he was bursting at the gills with Viagra, he’d likely be hard regardless of how uninteresting or long his current scene was.

The tiny man with the even tinier mustache trotted by and Jamie stopped him. 

“Excuse me,” Jamie said. “Did I get the time of the shoot wrong?”

“I don’t think so,” the man replied. “Three, right?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye. It’s only I’ve noticed the man I was meant to be shooting wi’ is occupied with another scene. Will ours be pushed back?”

The man’s minuscule face scrunched up. “Is he? He should not be in a shoot. I did not even know he had arrived.”

“He has,” Jamie said, pointing towards the door he’d seen Grey disappear into. “He’s right in there, and it sounds like he’s filming.”

“Oh, you mean John Grey? You won’t be filming with him.”

Jamie’s insides twisted and soured. “What do ye mean I willna be filming wi’ him? That’s what we agreed to. I signed the papers.”

“Indeed,” the man replied with firm-set lips. “You did sign a contract."

“Aye and the contract stated that I would be performing wi’ John Grey.”

The man shook his head. “It wouldn’t have, you see? Grey does not do gay-for-pay scenes.”

Hot fury surged through Jamie and he growled through his teeth. “I ken what I signed. I had my agent look over it.”

The man shrugged. “Call your agent, mate. Look at the contract. They’ll both tell you what I’m telling you right now.” 

Jamie sent a murderous glare towards the man, tugged his cell phone out of his pocket and called up his agent.

“Jamie, dear, how are ye?” came her lilting Scottish accent.

“Weel, I’m rather upset, to tell ye the truth, Geillis,” he said.

“I dinna want my best client upset. Tell me. What’s the matter.”

“This… shoot I agreed to. The contract I signed was for a scene wi’ John Grey and now they’re telling me that’s not what I signed, but I ken what I signed because ye went over it wi’ me, aye?”

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. “I couldna secure such a contract and ye should ken it. There’s always room built-in for a change.”


“The contract ye read yerself and signed states, in appendix C, paragraph three, that in the event John Grey couldna or wouldna be able to participate in the scene, that a suitable replacement would be given and ye would still be required to fulfill the agreement of the contract.”

Jamie felt as ill as he’d feel aboard a ship in choppy waters. “Ye lied to me, Geillis.”

“I most certainly didna and ye ken it.”

If that wee Scottish woman was here now in front of him, he’d throttle her. “Ye just wanted the money.”

“Tis good money. It wouldna hurt ye either.”

“I quit.”

“Alright, either way. Ye still owe me for this one, and ye canna get out of this contract wi’ out being faced wi’ legal action. If ye ken what ye signed, then ye’ll ken that. Good day, Fraser,” Geillis said.

“Geillis. Geillis!” he shouted, but she had already hung up.

“Fucking bloody fucking Christ,” Jamie snarled under his breath, heart hammering in his ears. If it wasn’t John Grey, who in God’s name was he about to have balls deep in his arse?

Just then, a large, exuberant German burst in through a door, grinning widely. “You must be James Fraser, yes?” He extended a massive hand to Jamie, who just stared at it. He dropped his hand back down, but still looked bright and unbothered. “I am to fuck you?”

Jamie’s mouth slacked open. This was Stephan von Namtzen. Jamie had watched this man in a scene with Grey, and he’d heard tell of the man in straight porn circles, as von Namtzen was bisexual. He’d seen the man’s prick before. It was near a foot long, as big around as a woman’s fist. 

Instinctively, Jamie’s ass clenched. How could he possibly survive being fucked by a man that large? He’d heard von Namtzen was a kind man, at least, but that did very little to soothe his fears under the circumstance. 

“I…” Jamie finally managed. “I think so. I had expected to be shooting wi’ John Grey.”

“Oh, no no. Grey does not have sex with straight men.”

Jamie grit his teeth together. “That’s what I’m hearing. Quite often today. Though the contract I signed seemed to suggest otherwise.” 

“It’s too bad. I am no slouch in the bedroom, of course,” von Namtzen winked. “But Grey is a magnificent partner. His cock is nothing impressive in size, but he uses it with great skill.” 

“Do ye ken why he doesna sleep with straight men?”

Before von Namtzen could answer, a light and lovely English accent swept up from behind him. “I do not see the appeal in fucking someone who would rather I did not touch them.”

“You are a porn star, John.” Von Namtzen shook his head. “You think you have never bedded a man who would not have rather been somewhere else?”

Grey frowned. “It is possible, yes, but I have no interest in exploiting the idea of a man’s reluctance for money.”

The small, thin-mustachioed man chimed in, “Oh, you are a fine bloke, John Grey, an even better lay, and even more obnoxiously self-righteous than you are either of those other things.”

Grey sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is your input necessary, Dick?”

That was far too topical a name, but Jamie managed to say nothing of it, and Dick managed to ignore Grey. “Fraser, von Namtzen, are you ready?”

“Yes,” von Namtzen said.

“I…” Jamie thought about Stephan and his big cock and his face that was not hideous by any account, but also made Jamie feel nothing at all. “I canna. I should go."

“You are not going anywhere,” Dick said. “You signed a contract.”

His cheeks burned hot and he snarled, “I didna sign up to have a foot long Subway club shoved up my arse.”

Von Namtzen leaned in, “I do not have to put it all the way in.”

Dick glared at the German. “You will put it in exactly as deep as I tell you to and you, Fraser, come along. You signed up to get fucked and you’ll get fucked. No one is asking you to enjoy it. Just to take it.”

“I’m leaving,” Jamie said, his heart thundering in his ears. 

“Fine. Leave. A good lawsuit could spice things up around here,” Dick said.

Fraser stopped. He couldn’t afford a lawsuit. He already sent all the extra money he had to his sister and her kids. The only reason he’d agreed to this shoot was because the money had been so good and he’d thought he’d be giving himself to John Grey. And it seemed Grey did not remember him, but he sure as bloody hell remembered Grey. 

“Christ.” He shook his head, running a hand over his head. “Christ.”

Dick frowned, his weak jaw clenched. “Why did you even agree to this?”

“Because I thought he’d be fucking me,” Jamie pointed at Grey, “which you kent, you had to have because he doesna do gay-for-pay, but that contract was set up precisely to make me think he would be my scene partner.”

Dick snorted. “You are a paranoid Scottish shite, aren’t you?”

“You were led to believe I would be having sex with you?” Grey asked, sounding incredulous. Jamie thought of Grey’s dark-haired, wee fluffer. Maybe he was so unattractive to John Grey that the thought of bedding Jamie repulsed him. 

“Aye, I was,” he said, throat tight.

Grey’s head titled, those warm, observant eyes focused on Jamie’s face. “And this is why you agreed?” 

Jamie’s throat tightened even more, making it hard to breathe, and the flush in his cheeks sweep in a red wave down his neck. “Aye.”

A smile twitched on Grey’s lips, then disappeared as he turned a scowl on Dick. “Was this your doing, you shriveled-up little fiend?”

Dick shrugged. “Someone should teach the man to read what he signs more closely.”

Dick was right and he was wrong. Geillis had been purposely misleading Jamie and Jamie should’ve gotten a second opinion and Jamie might have been willing to overlook caution and reason for a want he was still too afraid to put a voice to.

“So,” Dick continued. “What’ll it be? Lawsuit or a footlong German cock up that tight, virgin arse.”

Jamie’s stomach roiled and he wanted to turn and vomit on the floor. Did it show on his face? Just how trapped and scared and angry he felt? 

“I’ll do it,” Grey said. He looked at Jamie “This is what you thought you’d agreed to?”

Jamie blinked. “Aye.”

“That work for you, Dick?”

“Fine with me, but von Namtzen came all the way down here for nothing then, and can you even get it up now, Grey?”

“Stephan can have the money.” Grey spat. “I still have no intention on taking money to fuck a straight man and you know that, Dick. So fuck off.” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “Come along, Fraser.”




“This is my fluffer, Tom Byrd,” John said casually. “You may make use of him, but I imagine he’s not to your tastes. There’s likely a woman around here somewhere. Dick is, well, a dick, but he’d have wanted it to seem like you were getting off, that the fuck was so good, it was turning you.” Grey rolled his eyes. “So, he likely employed a woman for the day.” 

“Sir,” wee Byrd prompted Grey. “Would you like me to go see if I can find a woman for Mr. Fraser?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Tom.” Grey turned and looked at Jamie, as he opened a decanter on a chest of drawers in Grey’s makeshift dressing room. “Would you like a glass of sherry? I do not sleep with men who are drunk or drugged, but a single glass would not go amiss, yes?”

Jamie let out an awkward laugh. “Aye. Thank ye.”

Grey poured Jamie a glass and handed it to him. “I’ve seen some of your work. It’s impressive.”

“Ye watch straight porn?”

He shrugged. “And you must watch gay porn if you know who I am?”

“You’ve done threesomes with several of the women I’ve been in scenes with. Are you not gay then? Bisexual? Pansexual?”

Grey took a sip. “I’m gay.”

“You do scenes with women?”

“You’re doing a scene with a man.”

“Aye, but ye were saying ye dinna see the appeal in having sex wi’ someone who doesna want it.”

“Trust me,” Grey replied with a sly grin. “The women want it.”

“I didna mean the women. I meant ye. Why would ye put yerself in such a situation?”

Grey sat down on the edge of the bed, his lean form was exacting and well-kept, almost royal, like a prince or a lord. “I have the man there,” he said. “And Tom Byrd. Besides, I’m rarely asked to fuck the lady, but when I am, I am capable.”

Jamie took another sip, leaning against the wall. “How long do we have until they start shooting?”

“Until I can manage a hard-on.” Grey laughed, as warm and rich as the sherry.

Jamie shook that thought away. 

Byrd peeked his head back in through the door. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Dick said the woman he’d hired did not show.”

Grey huffed through his nose. “Of course. Thank you for inquiring, Byrd.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir? Would you like to use my mouth?”

“Not at the moment, Tom. I may call you in a little while though. Fraser, would you be interested given the lack of a female substitute?”

Jamie Fraser had been doing porn for long enough, he should be more jaded than this. Still, the talk between these men, one of which would be fucking him soon enough, made it hard to breathe. He shook his head. “No, thank ye. I do appreciate the offer though.”

Byrd nodded politely to him, then to Grey, and left the room. 

“Is there a script?” Grey asked. “I don’t usually work on a script, but since this was not my scene I’m not sure.”

“There was a list of activities we needed to complete. I’m sure the director will have it, but from what I remember...” Jamie said it casually but he remembered it perfectly, the thought of everything that would be done to his body. “I am to handle ye, take ye in my mouth, and ye are to rim and finger me before… fucking me.”

“Raw or protected?” Grey asked so easily it sent a rush of nerves through Jamie’s belly.

“Raw,” he croaked. “And ye are to finish inside me.”

He nodded. “Have you been with a man before? Even off camera?”

Jamie shook his head. “No, I havena.”

Grey raised an eyebrow. “Not at all?”

“No, I havena so much as kissed a man before.”

A tongue stuck out between Grey’s lips and swiped at them. “What about… what you’ve done on your own? With your arse?”

Jamie shook his head. “I havena done anything wi’ my arse.”

“Not even with women?”

“I’ve… done things wi’ their arses.” His lips quirked into a smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve agreed to this and didn’t practice at all.”

Jamie stiffened. “They asked me not to. I hadn’t before this, and they paid me extra to keep it that way.”

Grey shook his head. “I will do my best to be careful with you, but this is a lot for a first time, especially given that you are not attracted to men. Christ.”

If only Grey was as right as he thought he was. Jamie wasn’t normally attracted to men, but there had always been something about Grey. When they met before all this, and then when Jamie had watched him for research…

“May I kiss you?” Grey asked, seemingly out of nowhere and it made Jamie jump.


“It’s only that… I reckon it may be best if that one thing is not exploited for the camera.”

Jamie swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Aye, if ye think that’s best.” 

Grey walked over to him and crouched down to press his lips against Jamie’s. He didn’t think he’d mind Grey kissing him, but Jamie hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected a burning heat between his ribs nor the tingle of sparks where their mouths met and yet, he was given all those things in this one simple kiss and in spades

When Grey pulled away, Jamie instinctively leaned forward, following those wet, swollen lips.

“You’re sure about this? I know you don’t have much of a choice but…”

“And ye’re sure too?” Jamie added. “I ken ye dinna do this normally. Weel, I ken that now. I didna before today.”

Just then, a knock at the door startled them.

“Tom?” John asked, but the person who entered wasn’t Tom. It was a man in a t-shirt with large headphones around his neck. The director.

“Ready in five?”

Grey replied affirmatively as Jamie said, “Aye.”

The director nodded, then stepped forward to introduce himself and shake Jamie’s hand. Jamie replied automatically but was still thinking about the way it had felt to have a man’s lips—John Grey’s lips—on his.

He brushed his bottom lip with a shaky finger.

The door thudded behind the director, and Jamie felt a quick swoop in his stomach as if he were a teenager again. 

“You’ll be alright,” John Grey said, not looking at Jamie, but staring blankly at the wall. Jamie could not be certain if the man was talking to him or to himself. 


. . .


They still had all their clothes on. Cameras surrounding them like a swarm of giant, black wasps. Jamie did his best to ignore the cameras; scenes always looked better if he managed to forget he was being filmed. He struggled to do that often, though he was finding it easier today as his mind was thoroughly occupied with kissing John Grey. With feeling strong, sure lips and a powerful tongue that filled his mouth easily. With the strange but somehow erotic feeling of stubble scratching against his jaw. 

He tensed though, when Grey slid his hands beneath the flannel shirt Jamie wore unbuttoned over a soft Henley. Grey hesitated at the tension, but Jamie drew in a shaky breath and nodded. Grey slipped the shirt off, letting it fall to the carpet.

Grey took hold of the hem of his thin, white t-shirt and tugged it up and over his head in a strong, swift movement that left his chest bared to the air and to Jamie Fraser’s gaze.

He stared, dry-mouthed at tan skin, ruddy nipples, neatly visible abs. He’d seen this all before on the screen of his laptop, but it didn’t detract from the sheer shock of seeing it now. Of knowing that soon he’d be feeling the lines of that body against his own.

Jamie swallowed through a tight throat as Grey took hold of his wrist. 

“Touch me,” Grey said, laying Jamie’s hand against his breastbone. 

He slid his hands over Grey’s form, the sheer masculinity of it, the newness of feeling these parts in this way, on a body that wasn’t his own. It made him so dizzy he could almost call it excited if he didn’t know better.

Jamie was straight. Had to be. And he wasn’t excited about this with John Grey. Just tolerant of it. Okay with it. For money.

Grey kissed Jamie again, pulling their bodies together, then pushed Jamie back onto the bed. A sudden rush of something in the man sent a thrill through Jamie he didn’t want to examine. With a growl, Grey kissed Jamie again and worked his shirt over his head, mussing his red curls and leaving them both shirtless, panting. 

Stumbling back, Grey blinked, brow drawn together. His wet bottom lip dropped open, and he spoke in a low, husky whisper, “You are magnificent.”

Jamie let out an awkward laugh, feeling embarrassed by the warmth of a blush, and shrugged.

Grey kissed him again. His mouth. His cheeks. His jaw, drawing a line down his neck to the hollow of his throat where he bit and sucked. Shivers coursed across Jamie’s skin.

Should it make him feel like this? To be kissed by a man? This man in particular?

Jamie lost his chance to answer the question as Grey pulled away from him and plucked open the button on his torn, black jeans and unzipped the fly. One of the cameramen moved in closer for a better shot as Grey exposed his stiff, uncut prick.

“Christ,” Jamie said, accidentally.

A smile twitched Grey’s lip. “You ever touched another man’s cock?”

They’d talked about this earlier. Grey knew he hadn’t, but Jamie also knew this was the kind of question he had to be asking in a scenario like the one they’d found themselves in. Gay-for-Pay was all about the tension of doing something new, something you didn’t really want to do, but had agreed to do anyway. Perhaps, it made a great deal of sense why John Grey had never been interested in doing a scene like this. 

“No,” Jamie finally managed.

“Good, then,” Grey took his hand again, guided it to his cock. “Just me.”

Jamie wrapped a hand around his stiff, warm length, drawing in an unexpected gasp as he felt it twitch in his grasp. He didn’t move. Just held it.

Grey let out a small laugh. “Move your hand, just like you’d do for yourself.”

Jamie blinked, coming back down to reality and did as he was told, handling the man, moving his rough fingers and squeezing in the ways he found made Grey gasp or tremble.

“Get on your knees,” Grey said roughly.

Jamie didn’t move, so Grey pushed his chin up with strong fingers and looked him in the eye. There was a question there, subtle enough Jamie could read it, but not enough that the cameras could. Jamie gave a small nod he hoped no one but Grey could see.

“Now,” Grey said, the command in his voice fitting of a military officer. 

Jamie slid off the edge of the bed, knees hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Grey carded his fingers through Jamie’s curls, tilting his head back, stretching his neck. He relaxed his touch, but brought Jamie’s lips to the leaking tip of his cock. “Open your mouth,” he commanded again.

Jamie swallowed, but then forced his mouth open. This was what he’d come here to do. What he’d signed a paper agreeing to do. Still, it was one thing in theory and quite the other in practice. His heart thundered in his ears.

“Jamie?” Grey said, softly. A warm, honest question rather than a practiced demand for the cameras.

That was enough.

Jamie opened his mouth and slid his lips over Grey’s length, letting the weight of another man’s prick fall heavy against his tongue.

“Dear God,” Grey said, as if to himself rather than the cameras or even Jamie. “That I have lived to see this day.”

Jamie made a noise around Grey’s prick, and he could feel the man shiver as he took it deeper into his mouth, letting it skim the soft back of his throat. His stomach twisted, and he gagged some, instinctively pulling back and off.

Grey ran a finger over Jamie’s bottom lip. “Take it slow, yes?”

Jamie nodded, swallowing, then took Grey into his mouth again. He relaxed and tried to remember the times he’d gotten head that wasn’t from a porn star. Tried to think of how to make it actually feel good, not just look good. Whatever he could get away with because fuck Dick and his fucking cameras, but John Grey was a good man. Always had been. 

He settled into a rhythm and found himself almost enjoying the feeling of it, of his lips being stretched, his mouth able to bring pleasure and coax small, deep noises from Grey’s throat.

Grey gripped his hair and pulled him off, making him gasp.

“There is so much more I want to do with you.”

When Grey said it, Jamie knew he meant there is so much more I contractually have to do with you , but he liked to think John Grey meant it. That there was a part of him that wanted this. And not just sex or sex with a man but sex with him. 

Grey shoved Jamie onto the bed, then looked down at him. He swallowed, then rested his hand on the bulge in Jamie’s jeans. Instinctively, he arched into the touch.

“You’re hard,” Grey said gruffly.

“Aye, o’ course I’m hard. I’m straight, no’ dead.”

Grey smiled at that, then dipped down to kiss him. Jamie’s eyes closed and he disappeared into the feeling of wet, moving lips as Grey’s hot hands moved down his sides with sure fingers until the touch tucked beneath the waistbands of his jeans and boxers. He lifted his hips to let Grey remove them.

“Fuck,” Grey said, blinking, gaze moving from Jamie’s cock to his face back to his cock again. He picked up Jamie’s legs and threw him around his lower back, then wrapped his hand around both their dicks.

It was an unusual, new feeling. The smooth, silkiness of prick contrasting with the sure, masculine roughness of John Grey’s hand. He pulled and tugged until they were both groaning.

“God,” Grey said. “Fuck. How does it feel?”

“I dinna ken… Oh, Christ.”

Grey dropped his hand away. Jamie whined, involuntarily, as Grey dropped to his knees between Jamie’s spread legs. Before he could think, or get any sort of bearing, Grey’s warm mouth sank over his cock, taking him in deep.

Jamie let out a stream of curses almost too lewd even for porn as Grey took Jamie apart with his mouth. Just the right pressure. The right, caressing moves of a practiced tongue. The low hum in his throat rippling all the way to the tips of Jamie’s fingers and toes. It was… incredible. He’d swear to God he felt it in the root of every single hair on his body.

When Grey took his mouth away, Jamie felt an insane urge to either burst into tears or punch something. Instead, he just laid back gasping for air wondering what the hell this meant. What the hell he was ever going to do when this was all over and on camera and on the bloody fucking internet for the rest of time.

And then Grey’s mouth was there. Where no one’s mouth had ever been. Kissing and licking and making obscene noises as his fingers dug into the flesh of Jamie’s inner thigh. With a groan, Grey flipped Jamie onto his stomach, then returned his lips and tongue to their previous activity. 

Jamie felt a rush of nerves, of excitement, and, most terrifyingly of all, of want. It was embarrassing and intimate to be seen and touched there, to be kissed there. But Jamie wanted John Grey to do it, he found suddenly, wanted Grey to know a part of his body no one else did, to taste him in a way that no one else eer had. 

Jamie dug fingers into the duvet, squeezing the linen between trembling fingers. Moments later, there was the sound of an opening cap, then the coolness of lube adding to the coolness left behind from John’s tongue.

“No one’s ever done this to you before,” Grey whispered, a big finger circling and circling and circling.

“Nay,” Jamie’s managed, breathlessly. “Nobody ever.”

“Not even you?”

“Not even me.” Jamie shivered.

Grey said nothing else, but there was an intense pressure, a stretch and an internal heat as he was filled. Not much but enough. Enough to make him whine, bite at the mattress, kick his leg. A leg that Grey promptly pinned down.

“You’ve got this,” Grey encouraged with a gentle squeeze to Jamie’s calf. “I know you do.”

That solitary finger began to move and curl inside him. He couldn’t describe the feeling, not even to himself because how does anyone bloody describe this? This intrusion, this feeling of accepting another into one’s body, one you never expected. Never let yourself want?

“Fuck,” Jamie said. 

“Are you alright?” Grey asked, and from the corner of his eye, he saw the director shake his head. 

This wasn’t the kind of porn where you checked to see if the other person was alright. That’s not what the folks wanted to see. They wanted to see him take it, like it, however it was. That wasn’t John Grey.

“Jamie?” he asked again, ignoring the damn director.

“Aye. More.”

Grey kissed the swell of his left buttock, then bit it gently before filling Jamie even more. A second finger, Jamie thought dumbly. Now John Grey has two fingers inside my arse.

Jamie rutted against the bed, desiring friction and finding it, as Grey expertly moved those fingers in-and-out, curling and curling them in ways Jamie wouldn’t have even thought to do.

He gasped when the fingers slid out completely and he felt the smooth, softness of a prick run over that wet spot. 

“You have no idea how incredible you look like this…” Grey said as he began to—

“Wait,” Jamie yelped.

Grey stopped. “What is it?”

“Take me on my back, aye? Please.”

“Bloody hell.” Grey practically snarled as he flipped Jamie onto his back, the mattress squeaking beneath the heavy weight.

Grey kissed him again. Wet and messy, stubble-rough. Then, there was that dull pressure again with Grey’s hand between them and then he was being filled, fucked, taken. Buggered. However-the-fuck one wanted to describe it, it was happening. He was being fucked by a man. By John Grey, who was inside him and over him and all around him.

It almost hurt, but it didn’t. It was just a lot. Physically and mentally. Jamie Fraser was straight. He was supposed to be straight. The ultimate lady’s man, but none of that mattered now. Did anything exist outside this moment? Outside the physical connection their bodies were making?

Grey slid out a little, then dipped back in, watching Jamie’s face with rapt attention. He pulled out further the next time, and returned to Jamie even more quickly, with more force, bringing their mouths together again. 

Jamie grasped at Grey’s back, feeling the powerful muscle, the strong lines of solid bone beneath sticky, shivering skin.

“God, I want you,” Grey said, shocking Jamie. “Never thought… fuck, I’m inside you.”


“So bloody good.”

Jamie slid his hand into Grey’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss. So bloody good, Jamie thought as he lifted his hips and let Grey sink even deeper into him. 

As their bodies moved together, everything around Jamie dissolved. They might as well have been on the moon for how much he was considering the cameras or the people operating them. Nothing existed outside the weight of the man on top of him, the feeling of Grey stretching him open, filling him. The feel of Grey’s skin and the hairs of his body rubbing against Jamie’s creating a delectable, beautiful friction.

“God, I can’t… shit. Do you have any idea how incredible you feel?”

John Grey was a good actor. Jamie watched enough of his scenes to know that, but this was different. There was an honesty in those words that felt so strong the sheer force of it might crack his bones. 

If Grey was thinking about how they looked for the cameras, Jamie wasn’t. Fuck the camera. They were just two men, tangled together. And Jamie was finally, finally, opening himself up the way he’d always wanted to. Maybe it had taken work to get him here, but he was here. At last.

Jamie felt the heat of pleasure rising up inside him, and he could no longer hold back from wrapping his hand around his own prick and tugging. The moan that escaped from his lips shocked him. The pleasure was too much. A fear gripped him as his pleasure mounted that he would never have this again, and now that he had, he would never escape the loss of it.

“Oh God, Jamie!” Grey cried, pounding in harder. Faster. “Fuck, Jamie. Perfect. You’re so perfect. Fuck, yes. Fuck. ” The sound that tore out of his mouth sounded like sob.

His body went limp on top of Jamie. There was nothing good for the cameras to see about two spent men, lying on top of each other, trembling and breathing into each other, but… the cameras had taken what they needed. They didn’t need this part.

“Get out,” John growled.

Jamie’s stomach flipped, and his heart dropped and he tried to worm his way out from under John.

“Shit, no. No. Not you, Jamie. Them.”  With a groan, John pushed himself up. “And turned towards the director. You got what you wanted. Now get the bloody hell out, alright?”

“Mate, you’re not in charge around here,” the director said with a chuffed laugh.

Something dark and almost terrifying lit in Grey’s eyes. “I make more money for you people than all your other actors combined. So when I say get the hell out, I mean get the hell out.”

The director mumbled something under his breath, but then took a step toward the door, gesturing for all the others to follow him. It took a few awkward moments of fumbling steps and the hard slam of the door. But then they were alone.

Grey’s body visibly relaxed, and his naked form turned again towards Jamie. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

Jamie managed a nod, only now noticing the warm, slippery feeling of Grey’s come sliding back out of him. It was a very, very strange feeling indeed, but still he found he didn’t exactly hate it. “Are ye?”

A small smile curled onto Grey’s lips and fell away. “Yes,” he said, letting out a breath. “And no. You see, there’s something I should’ve told you before we…”

Jamie sat up, surprised at how comfortable he felt bared to this man even after the excitement and buzz of sex had faded. “What is it?”

“We’ve met. It was years ago, but—”

“I ken we have, John.”

His eyes widened in obvious surprise. “You do?”

Jamie nodded. “That’s why I… it’s why you were the only man I wanted to… that I trusted.”

Grey let out a breath through his nose, hesitated, but then laid his hand over the top of Jamie’s. There was a moment of tension where Jamie wondered if Grey worried Jamie would pull away, but Jamie didn’t because, well, he didn’t want to. He liked the feel of the other man’s hand on his, and fuck what anyone else thought of that.

Except John Grey. It mattered to Jamie immensely what Grey thought about it. 

“You don’t know what it means to hear you say you trust me,” Grey said.

“I was a complete arse to ye in school.” He’d been raised with strict Catholic parents, and a crippling, nameless guilt that followed him everywhere and spilled out on the people around him.

Grey let out a breath and nodded. “Yes, you were. Quite.”

“I am sorry.” He was. Sorry that he’d been so compelled by fear that he’d hurt people. That he could regret it, apologize for it, even, but never undo or unsay any of it.

“Thank you. For saying that.”

“I should be the one thanking you.”

Grey slowly pulled his hand away, digging his teeth into his lip. He looked away from Jamie. “And why is that?”

“Because of what I wrote in my notebook. In Sixth Form. Why did ye do it? Take responsibility for it, I mean.” It changed his life. Changed him. That one moment. Of grace and kindness so deeply undeserved. 

“I knew what it was to be the target of rumor and ridicule. I knew what happened when people thought you were gay… and whatever you had said to me, I did not wish the same for you. Though I could never understand what you saw in Harry Quarry, for God’s sake.”

“What I saw..?” Jamie said with a small laugh. “He was your friend”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t fuck him,” Grey said with a laugh. 

Jamie shoved Grey playfully. “Everyone called him Handsome Harry. Everyone.

“Perhaps, but excluding my brother, Harry Quarry is the straightest man I’ve ever met.”

“Aye, I ken that now.” Jamie shook his head, unable to stop smiling. “Was that the only reason that ye took the blame for me? Just out of pity.”

Grey’s jaw tightened, but then he let out a long breath through his nose. “I’d also had a crush on you since Year Eight.”

“I ken ye may no’ want to, and I dinna blame ye. I said some harsh and hurtful things to ye back them, but would ye… is there any chance you’d grab some dinner wi’ me?”

John Grey cupped Jamie’s face with his hand, smoothing fingers over his cheekbone. “You’re buying.”