Between the Push and Pull Ch. 05

It took a second for Ryan to sort his brain out, but then he caught on. "Yeah, I did."

"Tell me what you wanted to talk about."

Ryan looked up into Erik's eyes, searching for something, though he wasn't sure what. He knew that at the moment, they were supposed to be Roman and Everett, porn starts extrodinaire with beautiful bodies and big dicks. They were supposed to fuck, look like they enjoyed the fucking, and move on to the next conquest.

But Ryan didn't feel like Roman; in fact, he found the idea of Roman slightly repulsive, and he knew that if he dwelled on that feeling there'd be no way he could finish the scene.

And Erik didn't look like Everett. He didn't look like that cocksure, slightly arrogant persona that was protrayed on screen. Instead, Erik looked like he did on Halloween when he invited Ryan back to his place, a little unsure, a little hesitant. And he looked like he did later that night over the breakfast bar in his kitchen, wanting something but unable to grasp it.

"How... how do you compartmentalize?" Ryan asked. It was a question asked not by Roman to Everett about go-go dancing, but a question asked by Ryan to Erik about having sex with near strangers in front of a camera.

Erik swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, and his eyes took on a hint of sadness.

Fingers in Ryan's hair stilled for a split second of uncertainty before they continued again.

"There's a level of intimacy involved whenever you let someone else touch you. In... this... context, that intimacy is forced on you, it forces you to invite an audience to see the most intimate part of yourself. But I think the natural reaction for most people to push that away, to keep themselves closed and protect that intimacy. Its a constant push and pull that can really mess people up. I think it takes a pretty soulless person to be able to fully compartmentalize. For most people, they're struggling in the midst of that tension."

There was truth in those words, Ryan heard it in Erik's voice, but also felt it in his heart.

"So, how do you deal with that?"

Erik chuckled, "A lot of guys take drugs. There is an unbelievable amount of drugs behind the scenes, and alcohol. Anything, really, to help disassociate, distract themselves just to get through it."

"And you? Is that how you deal with it?"

Erik hesitated, his eyes pierced Ryan's own and held in a tug of war, a battle of how much to reveal, not just to the camera, but also to each other.

"I've tried them. They do the job while I'm on them. But I feel like shit afterwards, when I come down from the high and realize that the drugs don't help with the tension. They make me oblivious to how much I'm revealing at the moment, but afterwards... It doesn't feel good when I realize I've revealed too much."

"So you just live with the tension?"

The hint of sadness grew in Erik's eyes, and his body sagged under Ryan's hands.

"Yeah," Erik's voice was barely audible. "I just live with the tension."

Ryan held Erik's face between his palms, forcing Erik to meet his gaze. "You do a good job of hiding it," Ryan meant that as an encouragment, and acknowledgement of how hard it was to live in the tension and still be able to function in society. He tried to convey that with not so many words, and if the melancholy smile Erik responded with was any indication, Erik understood Ryan's message as such.

"Okay, let's, uh..., take five," Gary called out. He walked over and looked down on Ryan and Erik as they lay entwined on the loveseat. In a softer voice he said, "You two, snap out of it. Go outside, get some air, and shake off whatever... whatever this is." His words sounded harsh, but neither Ryan nor Erik missed the look of understanding in Gary's eyes.

Ten minutes later, they were back in that corner, loveseat off to the side, New York City just beyond. Ryan stood by the window, here a ledge stuck out from the glass wall, hip height, hiding a heating unit—perfect to lean against so that Ryan wouldn't be pressed right up against the glass and risk plunging to his death if Erik's fucking got a little too violent.

Erik stood behind him, hands working away at the tension in Ryan's shoulders. It helped, but their earlier dialogue played in Ryan's head, building that tension that no massage could dissipate.

"You need another hit?" Erik asked softly against Ryan's ear. The warm breath against his sensitive skin sent shivers down Ryan's spine, but again that tension, the forced intimacy.

Ryan nodded and Erik disappeared for a moment. He glazed out onto the city and remembered the sense of excitment and awe that he felt when first moving to New York. The promises of adventure were intoxicating, and everything had been imbued with a sense of urgency. His studies at Columbia were tough and demanding, but Ryan fought to rise to the challenge. For the most part, he did well, progressed academically, made friends and developed a community of people to spend time with.

But the paradox of New York is that there are millions of people around, and yet it is the loneliest place. Ryan felt that loneliness more acutely now that he had ever felt before, even more than when he left his studies to bartend. The thrill of New York was not much more than an unsustainable high—it feels great when you're caught up in the midst of it, but you crash eventually, and New York doesn't give a shit about picking you back up.

Erik came back with the poppers. Ryan took the bottle with that same tension—he wanted the drug and didn't want it at the same time. But he knew he wouldn't be able to get through this scene without it.

He took a hit and waited the scant seconds it would take for the drug to kick in. Ryan felt Erik's strong arms wrap around him, and melted back against Erik's wide and now bare chest. His veins itched with the need to be touched, and Erik's musky smoke met that need. Hard muscle supported Ryan against his back, while roaming hands caressed down his front, pulling his neatly tucked shirt from his pants.

Erik's talented mouth had latched onto Ryan's ear and was toying with his earring. The itch was doused by Erik's fire, which raced through Ryan until he was overheated and desperate to be naked.

His hands helped Erik to pull the shirt apart, some button popping off in their haste. Erik pushed the fabric over Ryan's shoulders and down his arms, trapping Ryan's hands behing him with a twist of the shirt. Momentarily immobilized, Ryan shuddered as Erik took the opportunity to ghost his hands over Ryan's chest, tweeking his nipples, dipping into his belly button until they came to rest over the waist of Ryan's jeans.

A pop of the button, and then a slow pull of the zipper had Ryan squirming in Erik's arms.

"Please, Ev," Ryan moaned. "Don't tease."

With just enough room to shove his hand in, Erik reached down Ryan's briefs and massaged Ryan's growing dick. His palm rubbed against the sensitive head as Ryan bucked his hips to increase the friction. All the while, Erik twirled Ryan's earring with his tongue, and Ryan whimpered for more.

With his arms behind his back, Ryan groped for Erik's cock, and felt a little thrill of triumph when he found the long hard rod tenting the soft fabric of the sweatpants. A couple of tugs along the length and Erik was groaning behind him.

"Everett," Ryan pleaded. He could feel the effects of the poppers starting to fade, never quite as potent the second time around, and he didn't want to dally with foreplay.

Erik got the message and stepped away for a second. Then Ryan felt his hands being extracted from their shirt-prison, before Erik's big hands slid down his hips, pushing briefs and pants down his legs at the same time.

Ryan braced himself on the ledge and helped Erik kick off his remaining clothes. He stayed in the slightly bent over position as he felt Erik's hot breath against his ass cheeks.

Erik's hands covered his butt, squeezing and pulling them apart to reveal Ryan's spasming hole. The lingering effects of the poppers made Ryan push his ass back, seeking the wetness of Erik's mouth. And Erik did not disappoint. He dove in with gusto, licking and nipping at the wrinkled skin, forcing his tongue into Ryan's body.

"Yes," Ryan moaned, reveling in the feeling of being breached.

The heat of Erik's mouth travelled from Ryan's ass, across his back and out to his limbs, replacing the fading itch from the poppers, and filling Ryan's cock as it grew hard. Then Erik's tongue was replaced by a finger that twisted and pressed until Ryan's sphincter gave way and it slid in.

Ryan heard his moan bounce off the glass window and back at him. It sounded erotic, heated and needy; it jarred Ryan out of the last of the poppers' hold over his senses, and he blinked as reality came abruptly back into focus.

Erik's mouth on his ass, and the finger inside his body, still felt good, especially as it tapped against Ryan's prostate, sending bursts of flame across his nerve endings. But unlikely previous times, the pleasure could not distract Ryan from the tension Erik had spoke about.

He pushed back as Erik slid a second finger inside, sciccoring them and tapping against Ryan's prostate. Ryan dropped his head forward as sensations of being finger fucked radiated through his body and tangled with the knowledge that the pleasure was being forcefully wrung from him.

Ryan's strangled cry was equal parts desire and shame.

Ryan felt a squeeze on his hip and then Erik's fingers was slipped from his loosened hole. In the momentary repreive, Ryan gave into the tension and held up his arm for the poppers again.

He took his third hit as Erik returned, sheathed and lubed.

Erik's arms wrapped around him again, holding him steady, all strong muscle, soft skin.

Ryan reached back for a kiss and rubbed himself against Erik, loving the slide of skin against skin.

Erik broke the kiss. "Ready?" he asked. There was something in his eyes, the way he asked the question. But the poppers were kicking in again and Ryan pushed the thought away.

"Oh god, yes, Everett. Fuck me, please," Ryan moaned. It sounded loud to his ears.

Erik didn't waste any time and slowly slid in. Ryan let his head fall back against Erik's shoulder, focusing all his drug-addled attention on the feeling of Erik's big cock invading his body, stretching his rectum, filling his gut and pushing his organs out of place. It satisfied the itch crawling in Ryan's veins and at the same time fed it. Ryan wanted more.

"Fuck me, Ev, please fuck me," Ryan begged.

Erik started slow, nothing more than a slight tilt of his hips, going from deep to deeper, nudging gently against Ryan's prostate. One arm was wrapped around Ryan's waist, Ryan settled his own arm on top to secure the hold, their fingers entwined, knuckles white with the strain. Erik's other hand turned Ryan's face so that their lips could meet and tongues could wrestle. Ryan's other hand was buried in Erik's thick hair, holding him in place just as desparately.

This felt good, felt secure, felt safe. But the itch grew and could not be ignored.

"Please, fuck me, Ev. I need you to fuck me."

Erik's arms tightened around Ryan, squeezing until Ryan could barely breathe, the lack of oxygen contributed to the dizzying pressure in Ryan's head.

Then Erik growled in his chest and pushed Ryan forward against the ledge. He grabbed Ryan's leg from the back of the knee and lifted it until Ryan was standing on one leg with the other perched on the ledge. Ryan was exposed now, but it didn't matter because Erik had picked up the pace and was now slamming into him hard, the slap slap of skin against skin echoing into the air.

Ryan braced himself against Erik's fucking, but the force pushed him forward until his face ended up against the glass. Ryan breathed heavily as each thrust radiated fire from his ass across his contorted body, feeding the itch.

Ryan's breath fogged up the glass, blurring his already dazed view of the city. On one particularly forceful slam of Erik's hips, Ryan had to brace himself with a hand on the glass, leaving a handprint on the fogged window.

The fucking was unrelenting and just what Ryan needed to satisfy the demands of the drug, provide Gary with enough footage, get him the hell out of that hotel room. Ryan's free hand found his hard cock, and twisted around the engorged head. He was close, just a little more pounding on his prostate and he could come and it'd be over.

But just as he crested the ridge, Erik stopped, abruptly pulled out of Ryan's ass and stepped away, leaving Ryan empty and on the brink, unable to fall over the edge.

Ryan felt his asshole clenching, searching for something to fill it, but there was nothing. Bewildered and confused, Ryan turned, looking to Erik for an explanation. Erik stood a couple of feet away, by the sheepskin rug, a hardened expression on his face.

Ryan wanted to ask why he stopped, but the steely look in Erik's eyes, and the tight press of his lips together gave Ryan pause. He uncontorted himself and stepped away from the ledge. The window was completed fogged, save for the imprint of Ryan's hand and face. The sight wiped away the effects of the poppers and suddenly Ryan was completely sober, faced with the evidence of his vulnerability.

Ryan turned away, only to be greeted with a fully dressed crew holding cameras, strategically place flood lights, and boxes of gear. They all stared at him, expectantly, waiting for him to make the next move. Except the only move Ryan wanted to make was to put his clothes back on and run away.

"Roman?"

Ryan turned to Erik, still standing by the sheepskin rug, hand outstretched. He read determination in Erik's eyes, a resolve that would not be shaken. Ryan focused on that resolve and held onto it as if it were his own. He reached for Erik's extended hand and let Erik pull him down to the floor.

As Ryan lay down, he reached out for the poppers again, but Erik caught his hand and drew it back.

"I need it," Ryan whispered.

"No, you don't," Erik responded.

Ryan was about to protest when Erik's grip tightened on his hand.

"You don't," he insisted.

Ryan swallowed thickly, not sure if he believed Erik, but desparately wanting to. He let Erik capture his lips in another kiss, Erik's magical lips that stole Ryan's breath away.

Ryan's erection had gone limp in the short interlude, and Erik took the time to bring it back to full strength. His hands sought out all of Ryan's sensitive places, teased them, and left little fires burning all over Ryan's skin.

Then Erik whispered against Ryan's lips, "Close your eyes, focus on me."

Ryan obeyed as Erik kissed his way to Ryan's ear and sealed his lips around Ryan's earlobe. That had the desired effect, sent tendrils of fire curling through Ryan's limbs, and brought his erection back to full staff.

Erik shifted them until he lay between Ryan's thighs, and Ryan automatically wrapped his legs around Erik's hips. But Erik made no move to enter Ryan's ass again. Instead, they kissed, long lazy, linger kisses, tongues licking, teeth biting and pulling on lips.

Ryan did as Erik instructed and focused all his attention on the man in his arms, feeling Erik's weight pressing him into the softness of the rug, breathing in the heavy muskiness that wafted off Erik's skin. He let Erik fill his senses until everything else was blocked out, until there was nothing else but Erik above him, around him, and in him.

"Please," Ryan whimpered in between kisses. "I need you."

Ryan blinked up at Erik, hoping that his message was being received. Ryan needed Erik, not Everett; he needed the playful, carefree, yet deep thinking man that had somehow slipped past his carefully constructed defences and drew out an awareness that Ryan had wanted to keep hidden.

Erik's pupils narrowed as he heard and understood Ryan's message. The hard kiss he gave, and Erik's full body shudder told Ryan that his message got through.

Erik slipped a hand between their bodies to guide his cock back into Ryan's ass. It slid in without too much resistence and he continued until he was fully sheathed in Ryan's heat. Ryan clenched his ass, enjoying the feeling of being full—maybe if he clenched hard enough, he would never be empty again.

Erik shuddered above him, as if he sympathized with the unspoken thought.

The fucking was slow, with lots of kisses and roaming hands. Ryan tilted his hips to meet each one of Erik's slow, shallow thrusts. Ryan felt that he could go on like this forever—forget the crew, forget the city, forget everything that made demands on him, everything that wanted a piece of him without ever giving anything back. As long as Erik was in his arms, making love to him, Ryan could forgo everything else in the world.

That idle, unbidden thought stoked the fire in his veins with a burst of oxygen that quickly raced through Ryan's body. He arched up into Erik's arms, his cock rubbing against the ridges of Erik's smooth stomach, straining for relief.

Erik increased his pace, agling his thrusts to jab at Ryan's prostate until Ryan cried out at the pleasure pulsing in his veins.

"Ryan," Erik whispered. "Ryan."

Ryan blinked at the sound of his name. At first, he thought Erik has mistakenly used his real name instead of his stage name. But what he saw in Erik's eyes mirrored the thought that had come to him suddenly, and Ryan knew that Erik had made no mistake. The knowledge that this was more than just an on screen fuck to Erik was enough to push Ryan off the edge.

Ryan bucked up against Erik, his body moving of its own accord, seeking the sensations that would bring completion. His eyes, however, were locked in a gaze with Erik's, communicating more with just a look than Ryan knew how to communicate with words.

The tension built and built, until it could no longer be sustained.

"Erik," Ryan whispered back as his orgasm ripped through him, splitting apart every nerve ending, and overloading his senses. And yet, despite the dizzying euphoria that came with orgasm, Ryan was completely clear headed, focused on Erik, grounded in Erik.

Ryan kept his hold tight as Erik shifted to extract himself from Ryan's body. Ryan watched as Erik's face scrunched up, his breathing increased, and his muscles tensed. He brought himself to completion and Ryan felt the wet heat of Erik's cum join Ryan's mess between their bodies.

And still, they maintained eye contact, rooted in their own identities, that single thread of truth in the confusion and tension of what they had just done.

"Cut," Gary's voice was soft, none of the usual gruff and bristle.

The crew started moving around, checking the footage and packing things up.

But Ryan didn't want to move, didn't want to leave the security of Erik's arms and face whatever lay beyond. Because he wasn't sure he could face it anymore.

Erik tried to pull back from their embrace, but Ryan held tight for a moment longer. Erik understood it, Ryan could read the sadness in those blue eyes. But they couldn't stay on the floor forever, so with reluctance, Ryan let him go.

The feeling of loss was immediate—cool air rushed to fill the space between their heated bodies. Ryan felt a chill that extended beyond mere temperature. He ignored the hand Erik had extended to help pull him up, and instead raced to use the bathroom first.

Ryan moved with record speed, wiping himself down, and putting on his own clothes. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. He needed to avoid Erik at all costs—he didn't have it in him to talk the way Erik always wanted to talk.

Ryan felt a little foolish when he peeked out the bathroom door to see if Erik was waiting for him. He was nowhere in sight, so Ryan took the chance to slip out, rush past the crew still cleaning up and toward the elevator.