Page 5 of Brushed and Buried
Lance laughs into his beer. “Honestly? Respect. You should work a shift in the ER. I’ve seen everything. But last month…” He holds up a finger. “Guy comes in with two dildos. Huge ones. Stuck. Up his ass. He couldn’t get them out. We had to sedate him and ease them out. And you know what? The poor guy wasn’t even panicking or acting like he was in pain. He was just…embarrassed.” Lance’s medical training kicks in, his voice shifting to that clinical detachment medical people use. “It made me think about pleasure versus safety. Risk assessment. What drives someone to push those boundaries?”
I blink. “Did he make it?”
“He’s alive and wiser,” Lance says, then rubs his chin. “But I started wondering, what kind of pleasure pushes someoneto that edge? Like, how good does it have to feel to take that kind of risk? So, I started reading testimonials and forums, even watched some educational content. Medically. For research.”
George chortles. “You researched gay porn?”
“Educational material,” Lance deadpans, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck. “It’s called expanding your understanding of human sexuality.”
Trevor nearly spits his drink. “You’re a menace.”
“I’m just saying,” Lance says, nodding to me. “Some of the stuff guys describe? They make it sound spiritual, like a transcendence thing. It makes you wonder what you’re missing.”
Their attention slowly turns back to me. The air feels warmer. I can feel the shift, the way their personas are dropping away, replaced by something more primal and curious.
“You do this full-time?” Trevor asks, his tone casual, but his gaze sharp. The easygoing mask is slipping, revealing something hungrier underneath.
“Part-time,” I say, slipping onto the edge of the couch. “I’m actually an artist. Oil and ink, sketching mostly. I sell some pieces online, and I hope to fund a gallery show soon. This job is…temporary. My friend, Holly, hooked me up with it when I needed extra cash.”
“Do you like it?” George asks, and I catch something in his voice, that Navy discipline warring with genuine interest.
“Most of the time,” I say honestly. “When the vibe is right and people respect me. It pays well, and I’m good at it. But it’s not forever, just enough to rent the space, hang my work, and get seen.”
They’re all watching now, even Vince, though he’s doing that thing where he pretends not to stare while definitely tracking my every move. I let my eyes flick to him briefly. Still the same chiseled jaw, same hard-to-read eyes. I remember how back in high school, he barely spoke during art class, but when he did, it was always something that stayed in your head. He was different then. Quieter but not cruel, or kind. Just…distant.
Now he’s quiet again. But I can’t read him, not fully. I notice the measured way he’s breathing, like he’s weighing each inhale.
“In this job, you learn to adapt. It’s not just sex, it’s performance. It’s trust. Timing.”
“Have you ever done DP?” Lance asks, eyes bright but not crude, his clinical background making him approach the question like he’s taking a patient history.
George squints. “DP?”
“Double penetration,” Lance answers, like George is an intern.
“Of course, I know what it is. Just…the female variety.” George shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable. I can feel his confusion and interest in how it would work with a man…with only one hole.
My tone stays professional, like he asked about paint types. “I can’t say I don’t want to try. But I do know it takes prep, practice, and breathing. You’d be amazed what a body can do when it feels safe.”
Trevor laughs softly, shaking his head, but I catch the way he shifts in his seat. “That sounds…intense. But like, not in a bad way.”
Lance crosses his arms, leaning forward. “So, you’re…a bottom?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’d say that’s entirely me.” It must be obvious anyway. My build is slender but toned, smooth skin, no tattoos, and my ass…well, my bubble butt tends to announce itself before I do.
Trevor leans back against the couch, and I see something crack in his carefree facade. “I kissed a guy once, back in college. It was one of Vince’s teammates. He just leaned in one day after practice. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t really think about it again after. It’s like, I know I’m straight, so it was just another set of lips on mine, but it was intriguing, in a way.” He pauses, vulnerability bleeding through what must be his usual confidence. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t pulled away so fast.”
Vince shifts beside him, surprised. “Wait, which teammate?”
Trevor flashes a smile, but there’s something deeper there now. “Nah, you don’t need to know, ‘twas like a spur-of-the-moment thing. But if we’re being honest, I’mdrunk enough tonight that if someone gave me a blowjob, I probably wouldn’t care what kind of plumbing they have.”
More laughter, but it’s different now. Charged. I can feel the way they’re looking at me, like I’ve opened a door they didn’t know existed.
Vince obviously can’t move on. “Was it Jamie?! He’s the only one I let inside our dorm room. I know he’s gay because he told me, but I never would have guessed he’d take interest in someone like you,” he says with a deadpan expression. “You’re too…loud.”
Trevor tries to look offended. “Why not, mate? No one can really resist all this,” hands gesturing at himself, “fine specimen of a man.”
Lance’s eyes narrow, his initially innocent interest mixing with something hungrier. “So, if you had to teach someone how to take it, like, really take it, what would you do first?”
