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“Cut!”
Crowley gave one last thrust, smirking at the way Terrance grunted with pleasure even when the cameras weren’t rolling. He dropped a kiss against one perfect arse cheek and slid bonelessly from the mattress. Instantly there were several people at his side, handing him a bottle of water, a towel to wipe himself down with, and a robe that he refused. It wasn’t exactly professional for him to strut around offstage naked, but he did rather enjoy the attention.
“Perfect, as usual, AJ.” The director, Paul, rushed over towards him as he posed, ushering his star over to the waiting craft table. “We just have to reset, so make yourself comfortable, alright? Rehydrate, get a snack, and get to know your new fluffer a bit.”
“What?” Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Paul, you know –”
“Now don’t pull any diva shit, okay?” Paul snapped. “I know you like the way Gabriel gets you going, but trust me. I think you’re gonna like this new guy. Just give him a chance, okay? Over here!” Paul waved at someone Crowley just couldn’t see from where he was sitting… and then the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life bustled over.
He was not at all like Gabriel or any of the other young fellows Paul hired to rev his motor before the shooting started. Definitely out of place in a porn studio: fully dressed, complete with tartan bowtie and velvet waistcoat. His hair was a mess of soft silver curls that Crowley had the overpowering urge to run his fingers through. For a fleeting moment, the image of him clutching that hair and pulling this fellow’s perfect, pink lips over his aching cock flowed into his mind, and he could feel himself flushing all over. Damn.
“Right,” Paul said, giving him that look. Double damn. Of course the director could read every signal Crowley’s body was telegraphing. “Why don’t you two get acquainted, then, while we get everything set up, and then you can show AJ here your… talents.”
Crowley sent a withering look at Paul’s back before turning back towards his new companion, feeling his heart flutter as he met storm-grey eyes.
“So, er… you are?”
“Oh… no real names, if you please. Please call me… Angel. Yes, that should do.”
“Angel?” Crowley scoffed, but there was something about the posh, elegant way Angel spoke that made Crowley desperately wish he had accepted that robe after all. At this rate, Angel wasn’t even going to have to touch him to get him close. “So…”
“I must admit, ever since they said you might need a little fluff today, I’ve been terribly excited to meet you. I’m a big fan, you see. I’ve seen all your films. And I’ve been told I’ve got a bit of a knack for… well, you know.”
Triple damn. How was this having such an effect on him? He’d fucked some of the biggest names in the industry! But this fussy, proper angel was the one sending shivers down his spine.
“Five minutes!” Paul’s voice rang out over the studio. Angel took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
“Well. I suppose it’s time.” He undid his bowtie, letting it hang from his collar, and very slowly undid the top three buttons of his shirt, giving Crowley the smallest hint of chest hair. “How do you want this, then?”
His voice had dropped by almost an octave, smoky and rough, and the sound of it made Crowley squirm where he stood.
***
“Angel, wait!”
Surprised, Angel turned, watching Crowley lope up the road towards him.
“Dyawannagetdinnerwithme?”
“I’m sorry?”
“D’you… wanna… dinner,” Crowley gasped, puffing as he clutched a stitch in his side. Angel’s cheeks flushed. Charming, Crowley thought. Had my dick in his mouth without a blink, but ask him on a date and he gets shy.
The silence stretched out interminably, but then Angel reached out, giving him a bashful smile, and took Crowley’s offered arm.
"I'd like that very much."