Chapter Text
The lights were blinding, and Will could feel a migraine brewing in his skull. He wanted to close his eyes, but “that just wouldn’t do.” God, his agent’s nagging voice never left him, even when he was face down and ass up for a man twice his age. The porn was becoming a chore, really. It was the same fucking formula every time. He’d bat his eyelashes at whatever daddy-type he’d been paired with that day, give him a messy blowjob, then moan obnoxiously as he took him in whatever position was asked of him. Thankfully, this position gave him an excuse not to look at the sweaty face of the man above him, a face that was making the most hideous expressions as he neared his climax.
In order for Will to make it end, he also had to reach his climax. He wasn’t supposed to touch himself, so he was forced to focus on the very rare instances in which the man above him bumped up against his prostate. He could practically cum on command now; his partners rarely got him there with their movements anyways. So, in the same formulaic way he always did, Will bit down on the sheets beneath him and let out a particularly loud moan as he coated the part of the bed beneath his hips in his spend.
The cameras turned off the second they had both finished. Will grunted quietly when the man, dubbed ‘Fabian Cooper’, pulled out of him, hiding the grimace on his face when he felt his ass being carelessly slapped.
“Super hot, Wyatt,” Fabian purred, getting up off of the bed and pulling his boxers back on. Will just gave him a weak nod, the sound of his screen name beginning to sicken him. Only people he worked with called him that name, and it had lost the charm and now seemed detached from him entirely.
Will took a deep breath and sat up, grabbing his own underwear and sliding them up his thighs. He was just glad he hadn't been asked to wear a thong or another variant of feminine lingerie, since it was always extremely uncomfortable. He didn't know how the women in the industry did it. He rubbed his eyes, still bothered by those stupid fucking lights. He hated artificial light in general; it always gave him a headache. He didn’t need to look up when he saw a pair of shoes approaching him, silently taking the paper cup of water that was handed to him by the figure before him.
“Did pretty good, Will.” His agent, Jack Crawford, commented, eliciting a scoff from Will. Pretty good? He’d been the physical embodiment of a wet dream. Will Graham was sex personified.
“I always do.” Will could practically feel the smirk on Jack’s lips before he looked up, meeting it with his own lazy grin as he brought the cup to his lips. The other man always seemed amused by Will’s sass, so long as it wasn’t costing him money.
“I’ve got you scheduled for another shoot tomorrow. You still up for it?” Jack asked, extending his hand forward. Will took it and used it to pull himself up, standing up on shaky legs. Will scrunched up his nose, taking a sip of water to slicken his raw throat. Face fucking scenes always did a number on him.
“Do I look like a man that can turn down a shoot?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow. The question certainly had merit to it. Will’s eyes were sunken in and lined underneath by a ring of darkness to signal his lack of sleep, while his body depicted the result of his malnutrition due to living paycheck to paycheck. Even though he was one of the top adult video models, Will rarely saw the money he was owed.
“Don’t get snarky with me, kid,” Jack growled, swatting the back of Will’s head for his insolence. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to shake him up a bit - remind him of what he was. “A whore looks up to their pimp, and you ain’t any better than a hooker.”
Will glared up at him but stayed silent, pulling his jeans back on and standing from the bed. He didn’t need this, especially not from Jack. He got calls every night from his ‘god-fearing’ father down in Louisiana, praying for him and yelling at him for being a filthy sinner. A desperate faggot.
“The money from your whore lines your pocket nicely. It wouldn’t kill you to reward him,” Will scoffed, rolling his eyes as he buttoned his shirt back up. Jack opened his mouth to respond with his own quip, but the look that Will gave him stopped him in his tracks.
Will made his way over to the refreshment table, grabbing some carrot sticks and a bottle of water. He ignored the director’s praise when he passed by him, just continuing to walk until he made his way out of the building. His Uber was outside waiting for him, presumably called by Jack. Will didn’t have his own car on account of the fact that any extra income he had went to his dogs, and the least Jack could do was find someone to drive him places if he was going to be using him like a cash cow.
The car was filled with silence as the driver drove Will back to his house, no small talk because Will hated it and no music because he always got a migraine after a shoot. It was like his body punishing him for overworking himself, as well as a result of those damn lights that illuminated the set. It was just part of his profession, and he coped with it the best he could by consuming enough over-the-counter painkillers to kill a horse.
They arrived at Will’s house within twenty minutes, an unusually short amount of time since he lived in the middle of nowhere. He didn’t like to interact with other people, and he sure as hell didn’t want to get recognized. He took pride in his career, but he could still feel societal pressures and taboos weighing him down despite doing porn for at least three years by that point.
Three years. Will thought about that a bit further as he exited the car, giving a small courtesy wave to the driver as he went up his porch steps before disappearing inside. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts to really mind the way his dogs immediately pounced on him, begging for attention and food since he hadn’t been home all day. He was distracted by the reminder that he had been doing porn for his entire adult life, and he didn’t really have much to show for it.
Eighteen year old Will hadn’t had many options, having been freshly kicked out of his father’s home in Louisiana and sent off on a bus to Wolftrap, Virginia. He was supposed to stay with his grandmother until he got into college, but discovered that she had died several years ago and his father just hadn’t cared to tell him. He lived in the practically abandoned house for a while, relying on a job at a convenience store to get by. That had been where he met Jack Crawford, who had offered to bring him to California and be his manager as a model. The modeling had been much more lewd than he anticipated, but the pay was much better than the old job.
Modeling quickly turned into acting, and that acting was just as lewd as the modeling had been. Jack had told Will that he was a natural, and he kind of was. He knew what men found attractive, and he could put himself in the mind of any character or role the director wanted him to play. He had been quickly signed to “Red Dragon Studios”, and the rest was history. It had become boring, shooting a new video every few days. It paid the bills and allowed Will to live out in the boondocks with his dogs when he wasn’t filming, so he couldn’t complain.
The thought of his dogs reminded Will that he needed to feed them, something they were still begging for him to do even after he’d sat down in his recliner and allowed himself to get lost in thought. He pulled himself up off of the recliner and went to the kitchen, thanking whatever higher power there was that he had pre-measured the kibble each specific dog needed so he could just pour those measuring cups worth of food into each of their bowls. He smiled weakly as he watched them devour their foods, patting each of their heads before making his way upstairs.
A lot of time must have passed while he had been combing through memories of the past and recounting his little origin story, Will supposed, finding that the sun was in the process of setting when he peered out his bedroom window. He spent an absurd amount of time daydreaming, something that was probably an issue but wouldn’t be dealt with until much later. For now, he just needed to get himself ready for bed.
The most important thing Will had to do was shower. He was still sticky with sweat from the shoot, and he was pretty sure most of his scene partner’s cum had leaked down his thighs and dried there. He grimaced as he washed it away, not disgusted with himself but with the lack of care “Fabian Cooper” had shown him after their scene. Most of the men he worked with weren’t exactly professionals at aftercare, but they at least helped him clean up afterwards. He would make sure to tell Jack that he wasn’t interested in working with Mr. Cooper ever again.
After the shower, Will was contractually obligated to partake in a skincare routine. He hated it, felt like it was a waste of time, but he was supposed to do everything in his power to prevent acne and premature aging. When he’d heard that caveat, he’d simply expected that he would have to wear sunscreen and maybe use moisturizer. The seemingly endless tubes of creams and washes were not what he had anticipated. But, he was a professional, and he would do what he was supposed to.
Once Will was finished with all of that nonsense (as he would put it), he climbed into bed and tried to sleep. Even with six dogs on or surrounding it, his bed felt… lonely. He wasn’t supposed to be in relationships on account of his contract with both Jack and the company, and he wasn’t even supposed to hook up with anyone if it wasn’t for a shoot. There were obvious risks regarding sexually transmitted infections, but that didn’t make Will any less alone. His bed was large, certainly had space for two, but it was really only occupied by him and whichever of the dogs managed to get up first.
Though painstakingly, Will managed to get to sleep that night after a couple of hours of tossing and turning. This wasn’t unusual; he rarely ever managed to fall asleep quickly unless he was completely and utterly drained. He also managed to sleep through the whole night, which actually was unusual. His sleep schedule was shit, but he really didn’t have the time to try and fix it. For now, he just needed to work until he saved up enough to go to college. Jack’s stinginess made that practically impossible, though.
Will awoke to multiple missed calls from Jack, who had clearly been expecting him to be up in the middle of the night like always. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes before calling Jack back, putting the phone against his ear and getting up to start his day. He went downstairs to feed his dogs, and Jack had picked up by the time he’d poured each of the dogs their bowl of kibble.
“What do you want, Jack?”
“I was calling to tell you the details about your shoot today. Why didn’t you answer?”
“Is it that hard to believe that I could get one good night of sleep?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. Be at the studio on Bayshore in an hour.”
Will opened his mouth to reply, though that effort became pointless as Jack had already hung up. Douchebag. He just rolled his eyes and set down his phone, turning his attention to finding something to eat. He tried to show up at the studio early whenever he was shooting a video so he had time to get a good grasp of what the director wanted him to do, meaning he didn’t have time to make himself something actually nutritious. He settled for a protein bar, munching on it as he went back upstairs to get ready.
One shower and extensive skincare routine later, Will made it back to his bedroom and put on a random white t-shirt from his closet as well as a pair of gray sweatpants. The director most likely had an outfit picked out for him to put on once he arrived, so he decided he might as well be comfortable on his way there. He fixed his hair so his curls looked sleek instead of frizzy, then went outside to wait for his Uber.
The ride to the studio was boring, just another long bout of silence while Will made a mental itinerary for things he needed to get done that day. He needed to hire a dog sitter to watch over his pets while he was gone, thankfully something he could do through an app. That was… kind of it. He spent the entire ride there trying to decide what he would do with his relatively free afternoon, a matter that stayed undecided by the time he got to the studio. He gave one of his infamous awkward waves to the driver before stepping out of the vehicle, making his way to the building.