Page 8 of Angel

Focus.

I make sure the sound is turned down low before hitting play. Angel angles himself so one arm is behind my back and he’s peering over my shoulder. He cups his other hand underneath mine so we’re holding my phone together.

His hand is warm—no, hot—and rough. It would rasp across my skin if he touched me. It would leave me feverish and tingling.

He smells like fresh sawdust. Like he’s been working in the carpentry shop and the clean scent of newly cut wood still lingers on his skin. I breathe in, nice and deep, trying not to be too obvious about smelling him.

He’s transfixed as he watches the video, eyes twinkling and lips curled in a slight smile. His tongue sneaks out and swipes over his bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He shifts, like his clothes don’t fit as well as they did a moment ago.

Ngh, it’s not fair. Why does he have to be so perfect in every fucking way?

“Do you have any more?”

“Huh?” I’m so engrossed in studying Angel I haven’t noticed that the video ended.

With one hand still holding mine in place, Angel brings his other arm between us to swipe at the screen. I’m too slow to stop him, and the pole dancing video slides off the screen. The next video autoplays.

It’s one of me and Hayden from a while back. We’re both naked, lying on our sides, him behind me. My leg is drawn forward so the camera has a perfect view of Hayden’s dick pumping in and out of my ass. I’m moaning—loudly. Hayden grunts each time he bottoms out. The camera zooms in for a close-up shot of Hayden’s cock stretching me wide. The skin around my hole is shiny from the lube.

Hayden isn’t just my best friend and roommate. He’s also a camboy and we’ve done a number of videos together. Our fans love the best-friends-with-benefits storyline we’ve got going. This is one of our more popular ones.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m stunned—or maybe embarrassed—into inaction, and it’s several long seconds before I react. Except, instead of pausing the video and locking my phone’s screen, I somehow hit the volume button and my phone moans louder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room.

“Fuck, fuck, shit. Fuck. Sorry!” I stab my finger against the screen until the damn thing turns off, and I fling it into my bag.

Neither Angel nor I say anything. The sounds of the party downstairs float up to us.

I’m a hundred percent not ashamed of my work as a camboy. It’s what pays the bills. It’s how I met Hayden and our other friends, Sebastian and Noel. It’s how I was able to afford pole dancing classes and how I pay for the fancy outfits I wear on stage. I like being a camboy. I’m good at it. But I’m not about to go announcing it to someone from my old neighborhood.

I clear my throat. “Sorry about that.”

Angel’s still sitting beside me. His leg is still pressed against mine. I shift away from him, giving him a bit of space from the effeminate, gay, pole-dancing camboy. It’s a lot for anyone to take in, never mind a guy like Angel from a community like this.

He clears his throat too, but even then, his voice is a little hoarse when he speaks. “Um, was that a, um, sex tape?” He mumbles the last two words.

I wince. Technically, yes, it is a recording of me having sex. But that’s not what Angel means.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t pry. You don’t have to answer that.” It’s not just his ears that are red now. His entire face is.

Shit. I’ve embarrassed him. And not in a cute way like before. He’s uncomfortable. He looks like he’s about to bolt.

“It’s not really a sex tape,” I say evenly, trying not to spook him. “It’s a video, yes. Of me having sex with Hayden—he’s my friend. We cam. You know, like OnlyFans?”

Angel cocks his head to the side as a flicker of recognition flits across his face. “OnlyFans?”

“Have you heard of it?” I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t. Angel gives off more of a dirty-magazine-hidden-under-the-bed vibe than subscription-to-an-adult-only-content-streaming-site.

“It’s… porn?” He doesn’t so much say that last word as mouth it silently.

A smile tugs at my lips, despite the awkwardness of the situation. He can’t say the word “porn” out loud. He’s so goddamn precious.

I nod. “It’s called camming. We’re camboys.”

“But it’s… porn.” Again with the mouthing.

“Yes,” I say, careful to keep my voice low. “It’s porn.”

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