Work Text:
Trying to find porn on the internet that doesn’t repulse Eddie Gluskin is like navigating a minefield.
Everything is so crude these days, with nothing left to the imagination – women contorting themselves in high definition, men spreading themselves open for anyone to view. Eddie scrolls and scrolls through the many web pages available, jaw getting tighter and tighter as he tries to find anything that isn’t step-siblings, or stepchildren, or exploitative.
He doesn’t normally use the internet for pornography. Usually, Eddie can get by with his own imagination, or the set of Victorian prints that he found at a flea market whilst looking for vintage fabric. The prints are sepia-toned, a little damaged at the corners, but they display a sweet-looking boy cross-dressing, and it’s got Eddie through many a sleepless night. He’s even searched to see if any other prints were made, but it seems like his collection is a one-off, the merest glimpse into the sexual frivolities of the day.
Eddie doesn’t think he was made for the modern era. In his heart of hearts, he knows he should have been born in London in the 1800s, courting fashionable and demure young ladies, and protecting them from the clutches of Jack the Ripper. Instead, he’s living in the back rooms of a tailor shop, stressed out by other people's weddings.
He’s just about to give up for the night when a video called Waylon Stream Teaser catches his eye. The thumbnail is a boy in a skirt and well-fitting white shirt, just the right shade of translucent so that it shows the outline of a black bra underneath. The boy has dark hair, and smiling at the camera with an innocent expression, which makes Eddie want to clench his fists.
He clicks on the video.
It’s been cut from a longer programme, only five minutes long. The boy is talking to the camera, idly playing with the hem of his skirt, like he’s shy about something. Eddie can tell that the boy isn’t shy, that he’s a voyeur, desperate for attention. Eddie’s cock stirs in his suit pants, and he can no longer deny base instinct, unbuttoning his belt with one hand and dragging down the zipper.
He wraps one hand around himself just as the boy raises his skirt, revealing a matching pair of panties underneath. His cock is peaking out of the waistband, head a pretty shade of pink, and the boy rolls his hips to get some friction on it. Eddie’s mouth goes dry, and he fumbles for the lube he keeps in the cabinet, squirting it onto his hand.
“I bet you like me like this,” The boy says, tipping his head back to gasp. “You want me dressed like this for you.”
The video cuts with no warning, and now the boy is on his stomach on the bed, his skirt roughly lifted so he can fuck a dildo in and out of his ass. His panties have been pushed to the side, and his mouth is rosy red and he whines, thrusting the dildo inside himself. Eddie’s toes curl, matching the boy on screen, and he roughly begins to match the thrusts, pretending that he’s fucking the boy.
“You want me in your bed,” The boy whimpers, “You want to fuck me.”
Eddie growls under his breath, thrusting up into his hand. He hasn’t jerked off in months, never feeling the need before now. He can’t stop looking at the pretty thing on screen, in his girl clothing, rubbing his cock against the mattress as he fucks himself.
“Please,” The boy breathes heavily, thrusts becoming erratic. “Please, please, please-“
The video cuts to black, and Eddie witnesses his own reflection on the screen, a sad man stroking his cock to femboy porn. Then, white text appears, reading JOIN WAYLON PARK.COM before the video ends, and featured videos cover the screen.
None are as exciting as what he just watched, and Eddie fumbles with one hand to type the address into a new tab. He has to confirm that he’s 18, which is always a good sign, and then is prompted to enter a username and password.
Swearing under his breath, and still uncomfortably hard, Eddie signs up for a free account under The Groom. He doesn’t bother to attach a profile picture, or fill out his bio, haphazardly clicking buttons so that he can get these pop-ups to go away.
Then, he’s spat out into a video chat room, and the beautiful boy is back on the screen, in another glorious outfit. This one is a pastel drop waist dress, exposing tanned arms and long legs. He’s sitting on a bed, surrounded by dildos of various sizes, and his hair is a little longer than before, swept over his forehead in a messy style.
“Hey hey hey,” The boy says, “We have another viewer.”
There’s a chat box in the corner of the screen, but Eddie doesn’t have the mental capacity to type right now. He carries on stroking his cock, eyes shifting from the messages coming in, and the boy on the bed.
Show us ur plug – exp0p
“If you insist,” The boy grins, and kneels on the bed, hiking up the dress. He turns to show off his ass, and Eddie groans at the pink plug nestled snugly between his cheeks, keeping him nice and full. The boy waggles his ass at the screen and laughs, before sitting back down, the dress still lifted upwards to expose his cock.
Waylon I love ur tight ass – cl4ym0r3
Waylon, Eddie thinks. It must be the boy’s name – stupid not to have realised, with the website being called Waylon Park. Perhaps a fake name? Eddie doesn’t know much about these things, only that he’d live in fear of putting his government name on a porn website.
“I’m glad you love my ass,” Waylon says, wrapping one hand around his cock. His mouth falls open, and he moans, and Eddie copies the action. “Wish one of you were here to – here to fuck it.”
Eddie wishes he were in that room. He’d keep that pretty dress on Waylon and bounce him on his cock, would make him feel so good. He leans back in his chair and continues jerking himself off, watching Waylon stroke himself. Eddie would show him how a real man takes care of such a gorgeous thing as Waylon, putting on a show for the viewers.
“Fuck I need a cock so badly,” Waylon says, and comments flood in offering to be the cock he needs. “Need someone to fill me up, make me theirs.”
I can be your cock - r3dbarre1
Pleaseeee collab - bl4ke
I want real person content not this fucking silicon shit - tr4g3r69
Eddie thought about fucking Waylon on those pretty bed sheets of his, the sounds that Waylon would make with Eddie’s cock inside of him. He wouldn’t be able to handle it at first, but Eddie would be gentle and caring before he took him to pieces.
“I want a real cock so badly,” Waylon moans, jerking himself off. “God, I want someone in here so badly, but I can’t find anyone-“
He cut himself off with a whimper, thighs pressed together tightly as he fucks the tight vice of his fist. He’s so pretty when he touches himself, Eddie can feel his mouth watering as he watches this gorgeous boy come undone on screen.
I could be your cock. - goose94
I could be your hole. - brunt0n
“I’m close,” Waylon whines, rutting into his hand, and Eddie is too, heart jumping in his chest. “Fuck-“
Eddie comes before Waylon, spilling over his fist and shirt. His brain goes white and dumb, ears feeling hot as he pumps the last remaining drops from his cock. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in years, toes curling, drool filling his mouth, and he grunts out something that could be Waylon’s name.
He just manages to look up at the screen as Waylon comes over his belly, making little noises that have Eddie’s cock giving a valiant twitch. The comments are full of viewers in the same position as Eddie, covered in come but still wanting more. Eddie swallows down saliva in his mouth, and wipes his hand on a spare tissue, feeling disgusted with his own primal instincts.
“Fuck,” Waylon groans on screen, and then laughs. “Oh my god you guys, I literally have the best orgasms when I’m on stream.”
He looks over at the right-hand side of the screen, and Eddie figured he must be somehow reading the comments. Eddie doesn’t really know how technology works, but he’s willing to learn, if it means getting to watch Waylon again and again.
“Thanks for the messages, and the gifts,” Waylon says, eyebrows furrowed as he reads, which Eddie finds adorable. “I promise this isn’t the end of the night – I’m just getting started!”
Eddie looks down at his limp cock. He isn't a young man anymore, and there was no way he’d be up for another round within the next hour or two. He grunts, and then leans forward, typing on the keyboard with one finger.
You are so beautiful – The Groom.
Waylon was still reading through the comments, chest rising up and down as he caught his breath back. “Thanks guys, thanks for the compliments. I’ll definitely be using the bad dragon next, I haven’t used it in ages.”
Eddie pushes himself up from the desk, tucking his cock away into his boxers. He needs a bath, and a glass of wine, and then he wants to attempt the chicken dish from the cookbook that Chris had bought him for Christmas, give him something to do that wasn’t sewing-
“The Groom, do you really think I’m beautiful?”
Eddie looks back at the screen sharply. Waylon was looking at the camera, grinning, face still flushed. He was the most gorgeous thing that Eddie had ever seen – girlish and innocent in a way that made Eddie want to cover his face with kisses, and hand design him beautiful garments.
I think you are angelic. - The Groom
Waylon mouths the words silently as he reads them, and the flush deepens on his cheeks. He reaches across to type something on the computer, and Eddie is surprised when his screen pings with a notification.
Friend Request – Waylon Park
New Message – Waylon Park
Thank you :3 – Waylon Park
Eddie checks his watch, and notes that the night is still young. He can keep talking to Waylon, if only for a little bit. Perhaps Waylon will reveal his measurements, and Eddie can make him something as a gift to wear on his channel.
It’s not that serious, is it?
XX Six Months Later XX
When Eddie pokes his head around the door of the study, he finds Waylon curled up in one of the armchairs, watching porn on his laptop. Waylon’s face is furrowed, and he keeps rewinding the same scene over and over, the shot of a cock thrusting in and out of an ass.
“Hello darling,” Eddie says, and Waylon jumps.
“How are you so quiet on the steps?” He grumbles, saving his editing software and looking up at Eddie. “I need to put bells on you.”
Eddie steps into the room, closing the door behind him and setting Waylon’s new dress on the table. The study is – well, a disaster, with empty mugs on the table, food wrappers of the ridiculous snacks that Waylon enjoys, various bridal magazines with their spines bent. Waylon’s taken off his socks at some point, and they’re lying mismatched on the floor, sadly waiting for someone to neatly ball them up and tuck them away.
“Editing going well?” Eddie asks lightly.
Waylon groans, scrubbing at his face. “I hate this scene.” He complains. “I don’t think I look good.”
“You always look good,” Eddie says, and kisses the top of Waylon’s head. “Do you want me to watch?”
“Please.” Waylon sets the laptop on the table, brushing aside a few crumbs. “Tell me if you’d jerk off to this.”
Eddie doesn’t admit that he’d get hard watching Waylon do the laundry, or chop food for dinner, but instead sits down in the other armchair. Waylon hits the space bar of the laptop, and the video begins playing, the famous black screen with Waylon Park typeset in white across the centre.
It’s one of their abduction roleplays. Waylon has a niche, and Eddie is all too happy to join in, watching himself skulk through the abandoned warehouse in search of a bride. Waylon, dressed in a wedding dress, is very good at running down corridors and pretending to be an innocent virgin when he’s caught.
“Please,” Wedding-Waylon begs as Abductor-Eddie pins him against the wall, tugging up his dress to reveal the lingerie underneath. “I’m searching for my groom.”
“I’m your groom now,” Abductor-Eddie growls, and slides Waylon’s underwear aside.
Eddie can feel his cheeks grow hot as he watches Abductor-Eddie debase Waylon in various ways. He’ll never get over the fact that this is his life now, a pretty boyfriend who wants to fuck in hundreds of kinky scenarios, and two full-time jobs, that of a porn actor, and a dressmaker. He can’t believe his luck.
Waylon huffs beside him, and folds his arms across his chest.
“What?” Eddie asks. His cock is getting hard in his slacks, and he tries to tell his brain that he’s watching an arthouse film, but Waylon is just so damn pretty on his knees.
“My acting is terrible,” Waylon mutters, as Wedding-Waylon gags on his abductor’s cock, saliva dribbling down his chin. “I can suck cock better than that.”
Eddie flashes back to the last blowjob Waylon gave him, early morning before Eddie had to open up the shop for work. They’d both been half-asleep, and Waylon had sleepily wriggled down the bed and taken Eddie into his mouth, kissing and sucking as Eddie pet his hair. It had taken a lot of willpower to not cancel all of Eddie’s appointments and spend the entire day in bed with Waylon returning the favour.
“I think you look good.” Eddie offers weakly, and Waylon grumbles.
“You would say that.” He says, as Wedding-Waylon takes the first load of many, cum splattering across his face. “That’s an okay shot, though. I like how I look there.”
“Mm,” Eddie says, carefully resting his hand over his cock to try and push it down. “I agree.”
They continue watching the rest of the footage in silence – apart from Waylon’s huffs and general disappointment. Eddie is so hard that he feels like a teenage boy again, getting off to his mother’s sewing pattern magazines. It’s embarrassing that he’s so turned on by his own pornography. This is not how a professional acts.
The screen goes blank, and Waylon lets out a huge sigh, leaning across to minimize the video player. Eddie wonders if he can get away with going into the bathroom and jerking off, or if he’ll need to sew the rest of the afternoon with an inconvenient erection.
“Thoughts?” Waylon says.
“I liked it,” Eddie says pathetically. “You were beautiful.”
Waylon isn’t looking at him, instead fiddling with his laptop. “I don’t know what everyone else will think. I mean, obviously, you were perfect – everyone will go nuts over you, as always. But my own performance? Hardly award-winning.”
Eddie would hardly describe himself as perfect, he’s by no means an actor. Waylon gives him a brief script before shooting, and truth be told, he prefers streaming to sets. Streaming involves fucking Waylon in their dedicated filming room, filling him up with various sex toys until Waylon is stuffed and begging to cum. He likes seeing their viewer's reactions in real-time, the jealousy that a man that looks like Eddie Gluskin is fucking Waylon Park.
“Maybe I should do re-shoots,” Waylon says, talking to himself. “I’ll ask Miles if the set is still available – he’ll have to come with me. If you don’t want to, then maybe he can stand in for you-“
“No,” Eddie says bluntly. “Nobody else gets to fuck you.”
Waylon laughs at that, finally turning to look at Eddie. Eddie tries to school his face into neutrality, shifting his thighs so Waylon can’t spot how aroused he is. Actors should not be turned on by their own performances.
“Jealous?” Waylon teases, and Eddie nods. “Cute.”
Eddie isn’t an idiot. He knows he’s not the person Waylon lost his virginity to (they still have dinner with Lisa at least once a month), and he knows that Waylon has slept around, but that doesn’t mean he can’t pretend. He wants Waylon to be his, and his alone. Everyone else gets to watch, but never touch.
“I know it’ll never be realistic.” Waylon continues. “But I want it to be good. I want people to remember me for my hot abduction videos, and not my shit acting.”
Eddie thinks Waylon is a very good actor. Sometimes he gets so into a scene that he worries Eddie, the begging to stop suddenly too realistic, the way that Waylon beats his fists against Eddie’s back as he hauls him over his shoulder. But he can’t deny that it turns him on, Waylon’s little whimpers and moans as Eddie stalks towards him.
“A problem for another day,” Waylon says, interrupting Eddie’s fantasies as he shuts his laptop lid. “Did you need anything? I kind of ambushed you.”
“I like being ambushed,” Eddie says, because he’d drop anything for Waylon. He’d cancel an entire bridal dress fitting if Waylon needed help removing a spider from the bedroom, or had a jar that was too tight to open.
“Sap,” Waylon says fondly, and tucks his knees up under his chin. “What did you want?”
Eddie nods towards the folded fabric on the table. “Your dress is finished.”
“Already?!” Waylon’s eyes go wide with glee. “You only took the measurements, what, the other week?”
“I work fast,” Eddie says proudly, and leans across to grab the dress, shaking it out so that Waylon can see it in all its glory.
It’s a 1950s shirt dress, short-sleeved because Waylon hates having anything constricting his arms, and a cutaway collar. The light blue fabric was left over from a groomsmen's fitting that Eddie had done the other month, and he’d been itching to create something for Waylon to wear. Sadly, it doesn’t have any pockets because Eddie knew it would spoil the flare of the dress, but Waylon can always wear it with a clutch, or make Eddie carry his things.
“Eddie, it’s perfect.” Waylon scrambles out of the chair to take it, holding it against his body. Eddie frowns, because it’s coming up a little short, but perhaps it will look better on. “The colour? I love it.”
“I’m glad, darling,” Eddie says, and blinks when Waylon pulls off his hoodie and shirt in one go. He gets a delightful look at Waylon’s chest, nipples soft and begging to be sucked, before shaking his head. “Trying it on now?”
“Of course.” Waylon yanks down his sweatpants, and Eddie gets a flash of black underwear with lace trim before Waylon shrugs the dress down over his shoulders. “Did you cinch the waist?”
“I couldn’t resist,” Eddie says, throat hoarse. Waylon’s got a perfect hourglass figure, so why not show it off? What’s the point of having a beautiful boyfriend who likes wearing vintage dresses if not to create beautiful pieces for him?
Waylon crosses the room to the mirror that they rescued from an antique store and poses in front of it. Eddie’s eyes focus in on Waylon’s ass, and the hint of black underwear. He should have tried it out on a mannequin first, instead of sewing blind. It’s his own fault – so enraptured with making another pretty dress for Waylon that he hadn’t stopped to think.
“What do you think?” Waylon says, turning this way and that in the mirror. “Is it too short?”
Eddie, now so hard that it hurts, shakes his head. “It’s thigh length,” He rasps, “Just like the pattern you chose.”
“I don’t think I’m built like the girls in the pattern.” Waylon turns his back to the mirror and looks over his shoulder to inspect his ass. “You can see everything.”
“Mmm,” Eddie says, adjusting his sitting position. He could press Waylon up against the mirror, and bury his face in that ass, eat Waylon out until he was whimpering and over-sensitive-
“My eyes are up here,” Waylon says dryly.
Eddie snaps his gaze back to Waylon’s face. “If you hate it,” He says, “I can add a hem.”
“Do you want to add a hem?” Waylon asks. He does a little twirl in the dress, and Eddie watches the fabric flare out, exposing Waylon’s underwear.
“It’s whatever you want, darling,” Eddie tells him, lying through his teeth, and Waylon snorts.
“You have the worst poker face.” He says, and then steps forward to climb into Eddie’s lap. Eddie gives a grunt of surprise, and wraps his big hands around Waylon, rubbing the material of the dress between his fingers.
When Eddie had cautiously revealed his big book of vintage patterns to Waylon at the start of their relationship, he’d expected polite interest, perhaps a few chosen at random for Eddie to design. Instead, Waylon had fallen in love with all the dresses and skirts and playsuits, and shyly admitted his love for women’s clothing, femboy but make it fashionable.
There was no way that Eddie could say no to that.
“Maybe it’s an inside dress,” Waylon says, taking hold of Eddie’s hand and resting it on his exposed thigh. “Or a filming dress.”
Eddie’s mouth goes dry. “It can be a filming dress.” He says, squeezing Waylon’s skin until there were soft imprints of his fingers. “We could – I could come up with a filming idea.”
“Yeah?” Waylon wriggles on Eddie’s lap, and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek at the pressure on his cock. “Tell me a filming idea.”
All the blood from Eddie’s brain is running south. He’s not very good at coming up with ideas for their films – they all mainly involve Waylon in pretty dresses looking beautiful as Eddie worships his body. He shakes his head to try and get his thoughts in order, and Waylon hides a giggle between his hand. As punishment, Eddie pinches the soft skin of Waylon’s inner thigh, and the laughter is cut off by a moan.
“Eddie,” Waylon whines, and Eddie slides his hand further up Waylon’s dress until his knuckle brushes the satin material of his panties.
“Wearing these full-time?” He asks, and Waylon nods.
“They feel nice.” He says, and drops his voice low. “You like them.”
Eddie likes them very much. It’s like snapping the first chocolate layer of a bombe glacée and discovering something even more delicious underneath.
“You are my little wife,” Eddie says hoarsely. “Freshly married. And there are rules in my house that you have to follow.”
“Mm,” Waylon tips his head back so Eddie can smell the shampoo in his hair. “Like Bluebeard.”
“Exactly,” Eddie says. “You mustn’t go into the attic. Or the basement. Or any of my locked rooms.”
“What happens if I do go into the attic, or the basement, or the locked rooms?” Waylon asks, mock-innocent.
“Then you get punished,” Eddie says, and gives Waylon’s cock a squeeze. Waylon yelps, his face pink, but Eddie knows that he’s enjoying it.
“I think I need to be punished,” Waylon says, and Eddie can feel him hardening in his hand, flesh hot. “I’ve looked in all your creepy places, and I found all your dead wives.”
“No dead wives,” Eddie corrects, and rubs his thumb over the underside of Waylon’s cock where he’s most sensitive. “Only dead… husbands.”
Waylon snorts. “I’m so glad your fantasy is inclusive.” He says, and Eddie pinches him. “Eddie.”
“Be a good little wife.” Eddie says, “Or there’ll be trouble.”
He rucks up the dress so he can see what he’s doing, Waylon’s cock escaping from the waistband of his panties. It makes Eddie’s own cock throb in his slacks, and he feels himself almost struck dumb for a moment. He is so lucky, he thinks, and snaps the elastic of Waylon’s panties so he mewls in pain.
“Eddie,” Waylon says, “Husband. Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on.”
“You disobeyed my rules,” Eddie says, and tugs the underwear to one side so he has better advantage. Waylon bites back a noise as Eddie lathers his thumb with spit, before tracing the outline of Waylon’s hole, leaving a glistening wet smear.
“Please,” Waylon says, and Eddie doesn’t give him a chance to elaborate on whether he’s begging for more or to stop, before he’s pushing his thumb inside of Waylon’s ass. “Oh-!”
“Shush,” Eddie rasps, “This is your punishment. It’s what you deserve.”
Waylon moans in response, toes curling. His cock twitches against his belly, and usually Eddie would be a good husband and jerk him off whilst he fingers him. Not in this fantasy, however, and Eddie continues thrusting his thumb in and out of Waylon’s tight hole, feeling Waylon flutter around him.
“It’s not my fault-“ Waylon bites his lower lip. “I’m a curious wife. I thought you might have been hiding – nice things.”
“How can I trust you again?” Eddie asks, stroking the sensitive spot between Waylon’s hole and his cock with his other hand, fascinated by the way Waylon’s body reacts to it.
“Eddie,” Waylon says, grinding his hips pathetically against nothing. “Please, I won’t do it again.”
“I can never trust you anymore,” Eddie says sadly, and rubs his cock against the weight of Waylon in his lap, not caring that he’ll need to dry-clean his trousers tomorrow. “You betrayed my one rule.”
“No.”
“You disobeyed me.”
“No.”
“This is what happens to little wives who don’t listen,” Eddie says, crooking his thumb so that it rubs directly over Waylon’s prostate. “You’re lucky I don’t bend you over my knee and spank you.”
Waylon shudders in pleasure, mouth slack and eyes teary. He always cries when he’s spanked, the first time they tried, Eddie had thought he was doing something wrong. Turns out it’s just a lovely little quirk of Waylon’s, one that Eddie exploits for his own gain.
Eddie pulls his thumb from Waylon’s ass, ignoring the way his little hole clenches, and hauls Waylon into a sitting position, so his back is pressed to Eddie’s chest. Waylon is so warm against him, skin flushed a gorgeous shade of pink.
“I want you to look at yourself in the mirror,” Eddie says, his voice like gravel. “I want you to see your shame.”
Waylon squirms on Eddie’s lap, already reaching behind to release Eddie’s cock from his slacks. His fingers are hot around Eddie’s cock, and Eddie can’t help but kiss the back of Waylon’s neck, nuzzling against the nape where he’s freshly trimmed.
“Eddie,” Waylon says softly, and Eddie looks at their reflections in the mirror; how pretty Waylon looks, how handsome he is. The perfect match for each other, bride and groom.
“Darling,” Eddie says, and lifts Waylon’s hips to push his cock inside.
“Husband,” Waylon breathes, and sinks down to meet Eddie halfway. He’s so tight that Eddie hisses out, scared he’s going to hurt Waylon, but Waylon grips onto Eddie’s big thigh for leverage. He drops down onto Eddie’s lap, and Eddie groans, unable to drag his eyes away from the spot where their bodies meet.
“This is your punishment,” Eddie says, and Waylon clenches around him. “You’ve made me do this.”
“I’m sorry,” Waylon slurs, clinging to Eddie’s thighs.
Eddie digs his thumbs into the soft flesh of Waylon’s hips, admiring the way the skin indents. Waylon is so hot around his cock, and Eddie watches him in the mirror, the little facial movements he makes as Eddie thrusts upwards. He’s beautiful when he’s being fucked, Eddie half wants to put him on public display, to let everyone watch his pretty boyfriend.
“Please,” Waylon says, and Eddie squeezes him again. “Please, Eddie. Fuck me.”
“You mustn’t use such vile words,” Eddie says, and kisses the back of his neck. “Do you accept your punishment then?”
“Yes,” Waylon breathes, beginning to bounce a little on Eddie’s lap, his cock still caught in the waistband of his panties. “I accept – Please.”
“Since you ask so nicely,” Eddie says, and thrusts into Waylon so hard that he chokes.
***
The warehouse smells as bad as it did the last time they were here – it may only be a set but they’ve spared no expense at making it dismal and dank. Eddie leans against an upturned crate and watches Miles and Waylon discuss lighting, Miles dressed in his usual unfashionable outfits, and Waylon in his wedding gown.
“I can fix it in post,” Waylon insists, “It’ll look really good if I run down this corridor, with Eddie chasing me.”
“Are you sure?” Miles asks. “It’s going to be a ton of extra work.”
“It’s my job,” Waylon says. “I might as well put the effort in.”
“It’s your funeral,” Miles says, and looks over at Eddie. “Do you do funerals? Or are you a wedding-only fetishist?”
Waylon slaps Miles on the arm before Eddie can reply that he swings both ways. “Can you not be a dick for two seconds? We’re only out here because I need reshoots.”
“You looked fine in the original footage,” Miles says. “Gluskin, tell him.”
“You looked gorgeous,” Eddie says, unable to take his eyes off Waylon in his wedding gown. It’s only a sample gown that’s gone out of fashion, but it fits Waylon so well, accentuating his figure. He’s even wearing make-up; foundation, of course, for the lights, but mascara and lipstick. Even if they weren’t shooting, Eddie wouldn’t be able to resist.
Waylon’s cheeks go pink. “You would say that.” He says, and pushes himself up on tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “Ready to chase me and violate my virtue?”
“I don’t think you have any virtue left,” Eddie replies, and Miles pretends to be sick in the background.
“Stop being gross.” He says. “Waylon, get into position. Eddie… keep looking like a serial killer.”
Waylon rolls his eyes at Eddie, and then scampers off, holding his dress in his hands so he doesn’t trip. Eddie watches him go fondly, and ignores the way that Miles is looking at him.
“I love him,” Eddie says quietly, and Miles huffs.
“I know.” He says. “If you make him wear a wedding dress at your actual wedding, his parents will never forgive you.”
Eddie turns to Miles and smiles with bared teeth like a chimp. “What a shame that would be.”
Miles shudders, and shuffles back to his camera. “Everybody ready?” He calls. “Waylon, prepared to run for your life?”
“Ready!” Waylon calls from a distance.
Eddie crouches down into position, hidden until he stands up. It’s easier than actually hiding, although it’s killing his knees. He doesn’t want to think of how ruined Waylon’s knees are, constantly on the floor sucking cock.
“Good,” Miles says, and counts down. “Okay… Action.”
Eddie watches as Waylon comes sprinting down the corridor, eyes wet and mouth ruby red from crying. He’s got padding underneath the dress, giving the impression of a fuller chest, and his hair is wild and free. Eddie is struck by how much he really does love him, how he truly is the luckiest man alive.
Waylon passes by Eddie’s hiding spot, and Eddie unfurls his body, drawing himself to full height. Waylon shrieks, and Eddie snaps his arm out, catching Waylon by the flesh of his upper arm, and digging in until Eddie’s knuckles go white.
“Darling,” He purrs, as Waylon attempts to beat him away. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Waylon screams, and Eddie’s cock twitches in his slacks. God, he can’t wait to tear that beautiful dress off.