Page 128 of If the World Was Ending

Colby popped off Hunter’s dick, ignoring the tether of saliva that linked his lips to the tip of Hunter’s throbbing cock, and he grabbed one of the avocado green throw pillows that usually perched on the bed at the headboard. He shoved it under Hunter’s ass and slipped lower, his head dipping as his hands pulled apart his boyfriend’s ass cheeks. Hunter’s knees fell open, and his head pressed into the pillows as his eyes closed in anticipation. He had no idea how the science of it worked, but when Colby’s tongue went to town on Hunter’s ass, he tripped into a level of want and need that was off the charts. Hunter moaned as Colby’s tongue pressed into his hole already loosened from Colby’s fingers.

“Tick tock. Give me your beautiful cock,” Hunter grumbled. Colby chuckled and glanced at their old school clock on Colby’s side of the bed. The film crew from Vanity Fair and Briar and Knightley would be here in less than an hour.

Regretfully, he replaced his tongue with his fingers again. Hunter grumbled again. “I’m ready. Enough. I want to feel you when I walk, remember?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Colby said, but he was drizzling lube on his cock anyway, like it was caramel on a sundae.

He dropped forward a minute later, pushing his two fingers into Hunter as deep as they would go, and he kissed him breathless. Colby curled his fingers, and fireworks erupted in every nerve ending Hunter had, his belly fluttering, his balls tightening. He gently nipped Colby’s jaw. “Fuck me, baby. Now.”

“Bossy,” Colby scoffed with a grin.

Hunter cupped Colby’s face, his thumb pressed into the dimple he loved so much. Colby turned his head to kiss Hunter’s palm. He pressed into Hunter’s prostate one more time, and as Hunter gasped, he removed his fingers and, without delay, pressed his cock inside. Just his round, leaking head at first, and then he ran his hands along Hunter’s thick, muscular thighs and fixed it so his legs draped over Colby’s shoulders. He leaned in and pressed through the strangling tightness until his balls bumped against Hunter’s body. Hunter was already panting and fisting his own dick.

“I… God… it’s so much…” Hunter panted, and Colby kissed his collarbone.

“You’re bigger than me, so imagine how I always feel,” Colby murmured back, and then began to thrust, gentle snaps of his hips to test it out. He liked topping but not as much as bottoming. However, this is what Hunter wanted, and today was his day. His moment. And Colby would give him anything.

The small, poignant little movie that Hunter had made with Andi, his superhero director, had become a raging success with critics and also with fans. The press that threw him mega shade leading up to the film— saying that he was difficult, that he caused problems, that he’d made his sexuality a problem for casting directors, that he’d lose popularity because he “wanted to be gay,” as one headline put it —became his biggest cheerleader. The hate from the press was swept away like dust in a breeze. And the fans that stood by him from the get-go just kept getting louder and prouder. Sure, there were still a few rude comments and downright vicious ones, but the haters were outnumbered by the lovers. And Hunter didn’t fucking care either way. He made that clear to Colby, who still worried sometimes that his inability to stop loving Hunter had hurt Hunter.

As for his own career, Colby’s fan base grew as well. Turns out that no one minds a gay musician, not even the young women who have been there since the beginning. Tidal Waves, as they called themselves, had their own massive Facebook group. He popped into that group and thanked them personally with a video when his solo album debuted at number one. Now there were also pages called Tidal Pride and Colby’s Cuties, each with over a million members.

Hunter was swearing at Colby now as he moaned and writhed on the rumpled bed. “Fuck Colby. Jesus-Fucking-Christ, you’re gonna wreck me. I’m gonna come so fucking hard…”

“I hope so, baby,” Colby rolled his hips, tilting them just right, and Hunter gasped. The problem was that making Hunter see stars, on the edge of orgasmic bliss, had Colby hanging there with him. And Hunter knew it. So he clenched down on Colby with his ass muscles and stopped rubbing his cock, pointing it up at Colby instead, all swollen and angry and covered in pre-cum. “Come, Colbs. I want you to come in my ass and then let me come in your mouth.”

Well, fuck, Colby thought, and then his body tightened as he fucked his way through a blinding, body-shaking orgasm. He was still quivering when he pulled out and took Hunter in his mouth until he choked. It was exactly twelve seconds until Hunter’s fingers twisted almost painfully in his hair and two more seconds until Colby felt the warm salty release slide down his throat. He swallowed and swallowed, and when he pulled off, Hunter wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb, where some cum had escaped, and Colby sucked it into his mouth before collapsing on top of Hunter’s hot, sweat-slick body.

Hunter’s hands scored Colby’s hair again, nails scraping his scalp deliciously, making Colby shiver. “I fucking love you so much. I don’t care what happens tonight. I get to walk a red carpet with you and hold your hand, and come home with you. No worries. No stress. We get to be us. That’s all that counts, honestly.”

“Nah,” Colby murmured into Hunter’s salty neck. He appreciated Hunter’s words, but he couldn’t accept them. The love was real, and he knew it. He felt it every day, even before that second earthquake shook some sense into both of them. “I love you too. But I still want another fucking Grammy. Or twelve.”

“Greedy,” Hunter laughed. Colby had won a Grammy a few months ago. His first as a solo artist. Hunter hadn’t been able to be there because he was filming in Mexico, which of course had the tabloids claiming they’d broken up even though Colby had mentioned Hunter in his acceptance speech and Hunter had made a gushy, sweet congratulations to the ‘love of his life’ post on his Instagram.

Colby stared at him with serious eyes. “I want you to want this Oscar. You’re incredible, and you deserve to be recognized as an actor.”

“Okay, fine. I really want this. I don’t want to want it because I might not win. And if I want it too much and I don’t get it, I’ll feel like it’s because people are rejecting me, not just my work. Me.”

“Well, I’m not rejecting you. Ever,” Colby lifted his head and kissed him. “Now let’s shower and get this show on the road. We have guests coming.”

Colby smiled as Hunter groaned and tried to pull him back into the bed.

Five and a half long hours later, they sat side-by-side in the semi-comfortable seats of the massive theater hosting the Oscars. Hunter raised his hand to his hair, but Colby caught it before he could mess up all of Briar’s hard work. The gorgeous actress in her forties, who had won Best Actress last year, walked across the stage to present Best Actor, which is what Hunter was nominated for. She looked out at the crowd and started speaking the scripted lines that tumbled from the teleprompter. Short clips ran of each nominee.

Hunter’s body grew stiffer and stiffer beside Colby, and when his clip ran it was a scene in which Hunter’s character was dealing with the loss of his young wife, and Colby was mesmerized once again. Hunter was so raw in this movie. So real. The clip was short, but Colby still caught himself blinking back tears as it ended. It wasn’t just because he was so proud of Hunter, but that was part of it. It was also how fucking great he was in the role. He had to win. He just had to.

He knew the camera was on them now. They always showed the nominees in little boxes on the TV broadcast. He reached subtly for Hunter’s hand and laced their fingers together. It wouldn’t be on camera, but it felt so good to do it knowing it didn’t matter if it was. There was a lot of online noise about what Hunter would do if he won. Would he kiss a dude on live TV? Some were horrified by the idea, others were thrilled. Colby didn’t care what he did. He knew that if Hunter won, the moment would be a blur. He also knew they would kiss and hug and cry together later, and that was all that mattered.

“And the Oscar goes to…” Her delicate hands gingerly opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes moved over the name written on it. She smiled. She looked up. Hunter squeezed Colby’s hand. “Hunter Law, Without You.”

“Holy shit!” They said it in unison, under their breath, and then they both laughed. People around them grabbed Hunter’s shoulders and squeezed, but he turned to Colby.

Their eyes locked. Hunter untangled their hands and hugged Colby. Colby hugged him back, fighting tears. He would not cry. Not here. Later.

“Get up there!” Colby let go of him.

Hunter stood up. Took a step. Paused and turned. Before Colby could register what was happening, Hunter bent and cupped his face and kissed him. Full on the mouth. It was over a second later, and Hunter was striding toward the stairs that took him to the stage. Colby was grinning like a lunatic and didn’t give a shit who saw it. Actually, no. He gave a shit. He hoped his dad saw it. He hoped Atlas saw it. He hoped his mom and Brodie saw it and were cheering along with Briar and Hunter’s friends Branden and Will. Most of all, he hoped some confused, scared, rejected young kid saw it and found courage and hope.

“I… I’d like to thank the Academy,” Hunter said as he gripped the trophy in his left hand and stared at it like it was a phantom and might disappear. He blinked, took a deep breath, and looked out at the crowd. “I’m beyond honored. Shocked. Humbled. Grateful. All the good things, I feel it. I used to dream of this. When I was waiting tables. When I was doing endless gigs for minimum wage as a background actor. When I was melting because I couldn’t fix the AC in my apartment because I couldn’t book a job to save my life.”