Sometimes, when I had lactic acid in my legs, I imagined my muscles being bathed in actual acid, like water washing over a shore.

It was ridiculous because one, that wasn't how it happened and two, the thought made me all dizzy because it was so unpleasant to me.

But if I managed to hold that thought at bay, I appreciated having lactic acid in my legs because it meant I was working.

Sweat was pouring down my forehead as I jumped my co-worker, who was on his back in front of me. My hair was free, tumbling down my shoulders and back, wild as I fucked. The hotness of the situation wasn't decreased by the fact that my co-worker was incredibly handsome. He had a nerdy face with brown hair slicked to the side and black-rimmed glasses, and it was all contrasted by a tall and muscular body. He grabbed on to the softness of my thighs as I rode him, and he looked at my face which I appreciated, biting his lip which I also appreciated.

What was more tricky with gay porn between two men as compared to straight or lesbian porn was that you couldn't really feign an orgasm. It was usually not a problem, but I had been angry at some shots, snapping at my co-workers to please put in some effort because I wasn't going to come by myself, if that was what they thought. Fortunately, I was desired enough as an actor that I could do that; the directors usually agreed with me. This man, however, gave me all he got. My screams as I orgasmed were exaggerated, yes, but not that much, and I believed that if I had tried to remain completely silent, I would have failed.

Then I sucked him until he came, too.

He handed me a towel when we were done, and gave me a quick hug before we parted, a rare treat.

"I hope to film with you again", he said.

I thanked him.

I wondered what it would be like to date him.

I wondered what it would be like to date anyone.

My legs were bathing in lactic acid.

"I'm home!"

"Come!"

I smiled.

"I haven't even taken my shoes off yet, mom!"

"Oh, then do that! I have mopped the floor."

"But it's my week to clean, mom!"

My mom came out into the hallway clad in an apron and with a wooden spoon in her hand, planted a kiss on my cheek. I hoped I didn't smell of the nerdy brunette's cologne.

"I wanted to treat you. Come and taste."

I walked in behind her. She had a lot of rice in the oven, and a pot of something that smelled delicious on the stove. She took a teaspoon from a drawer, blew on it and gave it to me. I took a bite.

"Wow! What is that?"

"Sweet potato stew with peanut butter. I'll add spinach at the end. We'll have it with rice and lemon."

"Thank you", I said, excited in that way only good food could excite you; a warm, happy form of excitement without any hint of the nervousness.

"How was work at the library?"

I blushed. I hated lying to my mother.

"It was okay. Quite boring actually."

That was a lie as well, I thought as my mind went back to the nerdy brunette. Work had been far from boring.

"I'm so happy for you. You're not overworking yourself, are you?"

"I only work a few afternoons a week, mom."

"I can't believe it pays swell enough for you to help me with tent and pay for your education!"

I blushed even more.

"I just wish you could quit one of your jobs. Have one job like a normal person."

"I'm fine, Izuna", she said, and I knew she was.

Sometimes I wondered if she suspected something. Anything at all. What if she knew but didn't dare to ask? What if she found out by someone who knew who I was? I was protected by the taboo people felt when they watched porn. Even if they recognised me, telling my mother would mean they had to admit what they were into, and not many would do that. But only a couple of days ago, that alcoholic had approached me in the street.

"Do you want to have a shower before dinner?"

I smirked.

"Is that a hint?" I asked.

"Yes, my dirty child. You need to wash your hair." I smiled and pulled my fingers through it; it was a bit greasy after the brunette had pulled his fingers through it many, many times and full of old dry shampoo. My mother playfully whacked my ass with a kitchen towel. "Off you go! You can use my Kevin Murphy shampoo if you'd like."

"You know I need, like, four rounds of shampoo to get it clean, right?"

"What I don't know cannot hurt me."

I jerked. What I don't know cannot hurt me... I walked into the bathroom, took a clean, white fluffy towel I'd got two of for Christmas (one for me, one for my mother) and turned on the shower. 

Just as I undressed, I heard my phone ring in my bedroom.

I walked out naked as I had the upper floor to myself, and hurried to my bedroom, finding my phone on top of Jupiter on my space bedsheet.

"Hello?"

"Mr Uchiha. I'm happy I got hold of you." The man had a raspy voice that was far from unpleasant. "My name is William Harold. Ever heard the name?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't had the pleasure."

"It's true what they say. You're awfully polite."

I was getting cold in my nakedness. 

"I'm happy they say that."

"I'm a director of pornography." He said it as someone might say 'I'm a professor in cardiology'. But then mentioned some names he'd worked with, and since even I, who didn't know the industry that well, knew them vaguely, I knew this director must be huge. "I have a role that would be perfect for you."

He explained he wanted me to film with a straight star he's been dying to get hold of.

"Wait, he's straight?"

"Many men who film gay porn are."

I thought of the cute, nerdy brunette. He can't have been. He really seemed to enjoy himself. Or he was just a very, very good actor. Wasn't that what we all were? Porn actors?

I told this William director I would think about it, as I always said, then went to shower. I washed my hair meticulously, took great care to wash my body as well even if I hated rubbing off the scent of the brunette, then blow-dried my hair with some anti-frizz cream in it. Then, I went to my laptop, opened it and googled the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ out of William Harold.

My mouth went dry. He was a massive name. Massive. This would, inevitably, make my career skyrocket.

Would I take it? Was it worth the risk of becoming even more known? Of my mother finding out?

I called him back.

"Why me?" I asked, not saying hello. "I'm not that known."

"You have a style I require that is rare with stardom. I like your natural shyness. It's not easy to come by."

I thought about this, decided it sounded reasonable.

"What's the pay?"

He said a number that was so high, I would have said yes even if I was offered me a fraction of that with the condition that I would have to have all of my teeth pulled out. 

I was getting increasingly nervous.

I was used to filming in four star hotel rooms or good enough studios, but this was something else entirely. If hotels could have five billion stars, this hotel would definitely have all of them. I wasn't too short, being one seventy-five, but I felt tiny in the vast lobby that was all shiny black stone and glass and metal. It made me heavily question myself. What if the director saw me and realised he had done a terrible mistake hiring me, a boy who had gotten into the industry because he had been so poor, who lived in a small house helping his mother? 

I went to the desk, nervous they would know why I was there.

"Hi, umm, I'm Izuna? Izuna Uchiha?" I don't know why I said it as a question, as if asking the neat and tidy receptionist whether or not I existed.

The receptionist buttoned in my name on her keyboard.

"Yes. Room five hundred and four. The elevators are to your right."

She handed me a card, and I thanked her.

The corridor that led to my room was covered in golden tapestry and a lush, violet carpet and oozed luxury. My heart was pounding so hard, I was glad the carpet was so fluffy it absorbed all sound. I found the door, blipped the card, entered...

Into the biggest and sexiest suite I had ever seen.

The first room you came into was a lounge containing a huge, round bed. The floors were of birch wood and incredibly clean. The interior was white and cream and gold and so world-class, I suspected renting this room for even one evening cost more money than I had ever earned.

And all around the bed were lights and cameras. Two men in black T-shirts were walking around, setting up two cameras from different angles and also preparing a camera for close-up. I had never seen anything like it before. I stood there, dumbfound, trying to take it all in but failing.

"Mr Uchiha."

I jerked. The man who has materialised in front of me was well-dressed, with white hair and round glasses. If he told me he did soothing YouTube painting tutorials for a living, I would've believed him.

"Hi", I said politely. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." He shook my hand, handed me a glass of what must've been champagne; it looked expensive. When I took a well-needed sip, it tasted like liquid diamonds. "I'm William Harold. You can call me Will. Actually, I demand you call me Will."

"Thank you", I said and found I immediately liked the man.

"Let me introduce you to your co-worker."

I had been so nervous about my own part in it all, I hadn't really considered who I would be acting against. I knew he had a strange name, like Toblerone Self-worth or something, but hadn't even tried to google him, which was very unusual of me; I had just been too busy being nervous about this next step in my career.

"Okay", I said nervously.

"He's over there."

Will pointed to the other room, and I went in. 

He was sitting on a chair, clad in loose-fitting, ripped black jeans showing a hint of black underwear, and nothing on top, allowing the makeup artist to brush a light powder on his collarbones.

And that man was nothing like anything I'd ever seen before. As a bottom gay porn actor, I'd had my fair share of good-looking men. But this one was... He was really something else.

If you asked me what the first thing I noticed about him was, I wouldn't be able to answer. It was every little detail at the same time. First of all, he was ginormous, like a tall mountain looming over the room, and he had no body fat at all, was totally ripped. Then, it was his colours. His skin was like porcelain, his hair so icy blonde I believed it was dyed, but then I noticed he hadn't even a hint of roots which meant it but must be his natural hair colour. His eyes were of an indistinguishable colour that faded over into the whites of his sclerae. 

And the tattoos... I'd always had a thing for men in tattoos. His left arm was covered in a beautiful, black full-sleeve tattoo, as did the one he had on his right underarm. As he was sitting with his side slightly to me, I could only see a hint of the one he had on his back. I was too far away for me to see what the tattoos depicted.

I swallowed. I had always liked the feeling of being topped by men who could clearly take me in a fight. But this man... This man could tear me to pieces.

As I entered, he turned his head so was staring straight at me, brows furrowed, taking me in. Once the first shock had evaporated a bit, his glare made me feel incredibly self-aware.

Before I had time to start cold-sweating, he stood up and walked towards me without hesitation. I could feel his smell, of a simple soap and complicated cologne and toothpaste and also of something else beneath all of that that was him. He didn't stop before he towered over me, looked down on me. In that moment, I was incredibly frightened. I was so tense, the lactic acid was bathing my muscles in pain. 

Then, he smirked. He poked his tongue out, biting his tongue a little showing off a tongue piercing to try to intimidate me.

It worked.

"Well, aren't you a surprise", he said.