Reach Out For The Sunrise Ch. 08

Mikka removed the phone from his ear for a moment and stared at it, utterly exasperated.

"Sure," he sighed at last, sinking back down into the pillows. "Whatever! Is there anything else?"

"Yeah..." PJ said in a tone of voice that his lover had never been able to resist. "When you hang up on me, put your bedside webcam on. I wanna watch that foxy switch-hitter of yours riding cowboy on your cock before you hit the shower."

He kissed his mobile audibly and the line went dead. The handsome Finn closed his eyes with a helpless little laugh and put his phone down on the bedside cabinet, then reached over for the sleep button on his laptop and activated the built in camera. Less than five minutes later, he was sprawled supine on the bed, writhing and thrusting eagerly inside Trent as the younger man straddled him and his snug, well-lubed ass vigorously humped the cum out of Mikka's balls. He fisted the handsome young model's rigid, uncut sex fast and hard, squeezing and twisting and milking his dribbling bell end until the horny youth answered with several hot jets of his own. His thick sperm exploded in creamy ropes across Mikka's muscular chest and he uttered a whoop of delight worthy of any cowboy. Seductively he pulled a finger through the spill of jism and put it in his mouth, sucking it coyly before blowing a kiss for the camera.

Several hundred miles away, on the Italian coast, PJ McNamara closed the lid on his own laptop with a little grin of satisfaction and reached for a handful of tissues.

"If that boy's straight I'll eat my own ass!" he chuckled wryly.

NAPLES - XAVIER:

Marco's place was in the city not all that far from where Aldo had taken Xavier shopping. The downstairs was a nicely appointed apartment, the upstairs was an open loft that served as Marco's studio. The studio was mostly bare floorboards and floor to ceiling windows with rolled blinds that could either partially or fully block out the natural light. It had an urban feel to it that was out of place with the exterior of the building, which looked like it was built sometime before the industrial revolution.

"You look like hell!" Marco's surly voice greeted Xavier as he stood looking around.

Xavier shrugged. "Sorry."

Marco sighed impatiently. "Didn't I tell you not to stay up all night drinking and fucking?"

"Actually you said you didn't care what I did as long as I was here for six. I'm here," Xavier shot back, in no mood to take any shit.

Marco made a disgruntled sound but let it go. He was fiddling with his camera and looking Xavier over. "Alright. Let's get started."

Apparently Marco had been hired to shoot an ad campaign for CockSox. If they liked what he gave them for the underwear line then he'd most likely get to do their layouts for the spring swimsuits. The company's target consumers were predominantly in the gay market. Their sizes came in twink, stud, cub, and bear, which Xavier found amusing.

He put on what Marco told him to put on and stood where he told him to stand and Marco started snapping pictures. Xav routinely did whatever the photographer told him to but his thoughts were far from on the job. Even so, he could tell Marco was getting frustrated. After about an hour he called a halt and while Xavier sat and stared out the window Marco scrolled through the photos he'd taken, obviously unhappy.

"This is crap. All crap!" he sighed irritably.

Xavier ignored him. He knew plenty of drama queens. The showboating didn't phase him.

"Oh, there's some good ones, but nothing really outstanding, you know?" Marco complained, as if Xavier was listening to any of it. The photographer was beginning to think he'd made a mistake. The boy was compliant enough but the energy and sex appeal he'd seen last night wasn't translating in the cold light of day. There were a few pictures he liked; one in particular, where Xavier was looking off to the side and down, was very poignant. Another where the sun was coming in behind him and turned his soft blond curls into a nimbus, his expression in that one was so contemplative you wanted to reach into the frame and hug him, or something. Those were good shots, but not what he needed for this shoot.

He needed the sexy dancer from last night.

That thought gave him an idea. "Ok, let's try something else." Marco said, using a reasonable tone for the first time that morning. He went over to one wall and turned on the stereo there. "I want you to dance for me, but if I say hold it, stop for a few seconds, si?"

Xavier nodded. "Okay, but put something else on."

Marco made an inviting gesture toward the stereo and let Xavier turn the dial until he found a track he liked. He finally settled on a pop station that would have to do. It wasn't that bad anyway. They were currently playing Janet Jackson's All Nite (Don't stop), a sexy number with a good beat and easy to dance to. Xavier started to move and Marco started to smile, and then quickly started snapping away. Perfect! That was much more like it! The first hour of the day might have been a washout, but the next few made up for it. Marco was grinning like a fool and his camera never stopped clicking.

Several hours, and wardrobe changes, later (Xavier thought it was hilarious when Marco called it a 'wardrobe change' since it seemed like literally all he did was change from one microscopic piece of ass-floss to another) Marco called a halt. Before Xavier did anything else, before he even got dressed or fetched a drink, he went and checked his phone.

Nothing! No calls, no messages.

Disappointed, Xavier went to the bathroom to rinse off and get dressed. Marco hadn't been kidding when he said he was going to work Xavier's ass off. He supposed if he had just been standing around posing it wouldn't have been as bad, but it had been some time since he'd danced like that for several hours at a shot.

Marco must have felt some sympathy anyway. He took his latest model out to lunch, which normally would have improved Xavier's mood in spades, but he couldn't really enjoy it while he was still wondering what had happened to Rayne. When they were done eating Marco invited him to stay the night. In the guest room, he added with a little smile, saying that it would be easier than going all the way back to Aldo's, or putting him up in a room somewhere closer. With a careless shrug, Xavier agreed.

When they got back to Marco's the photographer told him to make himself at home and relax for the rest of the day. He needed to go through the shots from this morning and didn't want to be disturbed. Xavier was fine with that, leaving him to his computer while he checked for any calls or messages again.

Still nothing.

Marco was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't even take a break to eat and Xavier ended up raiding the fridge for dinner. After he had eaten and taken another shower he finally broke and called PJ. There was no word yet from Paris, although Paddy did say he'd talked to his lover, Mikka and he was still looking. PJ asked him how the shoot was going and Xavier told him Marco was a serial drama queen but he must be happy with some of the pictures because he hadn't come out of his office since he'd sat down in front of the laptop several hours ago. Xav asked him to say hi to Aldo, Chavez and Clay for him and then he said good night. The words tripped off his tongue but there was no emotion behind them. He felt empty... lonely... stripped of feelings.

PARIS - MIKKAL:


By the time most Parisians were sitting down to a civilised breakfast, Mikka Saarinen had vigorously fucked an allegedly straight porn actor - twice; taken a fast and seriously invigorating shower; organised the storyboards for the scenes they were supposed to be shooting this afternoon and called his assistant Vaz to let him know that he might be held up and to start without him if that was the case. He then flipped through his contact book and called the numbers of several known fetish clubs in the district, figuring that it would be easiest to start locally and spread out if he did not find anything useful.

He also called a handful of hotels in the city to check if they had a Monsieur Wylde on their register, and drew a blank with all of them.

The clubs were harder to get hold of. Mikka sighed after getting the answering machine for the fourth venue on the bounce. These kinds of people did not do early mornings. It was going to be like raising the dead trying to speak to them before mid-day.

Trent brought him rich, dark, fully roasted Italian coffee and a plate of hot, soft croissants with his morning newspapers and he flicked idly through the broadsheets, his mind rapidly processing the news as he ate. His young companion sprawled languidly on the dark green leather sofa in his very skimpy briefs and Mikka was just beginning to contemplate giving in to the distraction he presented when the 'phone rang. It was the internal line from reception and Trent bounced to his feet like a jack in the box with the lid off and picked it up, charming the receptionist with his pidgin French.

"There's a guy in reception for you," he told Mikka now. "He says that Paddy sent him."

Mikka swore under his breath. He had forgotten about the man who was coming over from London, the one who was supposed to know Rayne. What the hell where they meant to do with him? Although, he thought grimly, another set of eyes probably wouldn't do any harm, especially as he had to work this afternoon.


Dominic Warren was not what Mikka had been expecting. The fellow was extremely tall, well-dressed and well-mannered; rather aristocratic in fact, with an ageless face and moss-green eyes that twinkled rather keenly when he set eyes on Trent, who was still dressed in little more than his own smooth, tanned skin.

He shook Mikka's hand firmly though.

"Mikkal, so glad to meet you. PJ's told me a lot about you," he said, pronouncing Mikka's name the English way; Michael. Mikka did not bother to correct him, there would hopefully be time for that later.

He was surprised though. Patrick had told him that Warren was a fan of Rayne's band and a bit of an expert on the supernatural. Mikka had been expecting a cross between Bill & Ted and the Lone Gunmen; a solitary eccentric who probably wore his cap back to front and talked in perpetual stoner slang.

"How on earth do you know Rayne?" he asked when Trent had brought them more coffee and they were sitting on the sofa together whilst the younger man sprawled in a basketwork chair by the full-length windows, smoking a Sobranie.

"Through his friend, Simon, the drummer in his group," Warren explained with a little smile. "I met him via work I do for an AIDS charity in London. He was Positive; like your good self, I believe?"

Mikka nodded, not surprised that he knew, but impressed that he was not afraid to bring the subject up so frankly. Most people, even guys he knew well, skirted around it still, refusing to talk about the matter of his HIV status directly. He warmed to Warren at once.

"Are you?" he wanted to know.

Warren shook his head. "Thank the Lady, no. I've been very lucky, Mikkal. Not a day goes by that I don't count my blessings for that. It's something else I have in common with Rayne Wylde. I believe we're both being looked after by a higher force, though I can't imagine why!"

"If the boy's dream was anything more than just night terrors, Rayne might well have put that protection to the test this weekend," Mikka said gravely.

"Let's hope not," Dominic responded, shaking his head slowly. "Have you managed to find out anything since PJ called you?"

"Not a thing," Mikka sighed and explained about the clubs.

Warren fished in the black messenger back he had been carrying when he arrived and handed the Finn a scrap of paper. It was a news-cutting, just a little thing. He read it through twice.

"It was in the Evening Standard last night," Dominic explained with a little shrug, still working the travel knots out of his shoulders. "They have a column where people text in and tell everyone about totally random, inane things that have happened to them. I don't even read it usually but the name caught my eye."

Mikka scanned the scrap of paper; "Watching guy who iz spitz of Rane Wild out of Wipsnayde doing karioke in bar Gonk in Paris. How pizzed am I?" He looked up at Dominic sceptically. "It could have been anyone."

"Maybe. Or maybe the Goddess is looking out for him, as I told you." Warren smiled wanly. "Do you know this bar Gonk?"

Mikka shook his head but Trent said; "I know where it is. It's not far from here. Up near the Pompidou Centre."

"We don't have any other leads until the fetish people get up for lunch," Warren ventured optimistically. "Do you sing, Mikkal?"


NAPLES - XAVIER:

Rayne had Xavier's wrists trapped in a vice-like grip above his head and pressed his body down to the couch with his own. His expression as he looked down at him was coldly determined, and hungry.

In reality when this had happened they'd been wearing clothes, but in Xavier's dream they were both naked and Rayne rolled his hips, rubbing their erections together and making Xavier moan. In reality he'd begged Rayne to stop.

"Ray...please...need you so bad..." he breathed. The teeth that sank into his throat made him gasp and his cock throbbed with desire. He pushed his hips up, grinding slowly against his lover, the drowning, melting feeling of being drunk made his head swim.

The sound of a soft click and tiny beeping noise pulled him up reluctantly from his dream. He blinked bleary eyes lifting his head and trying to focus.

"Wha'er you doin'?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Capturing an angel." Marco said and snapped another picture.

Xavier groaned and dropped his head back to the pillows. "Fuck off! Christ! What time is it?"

"Time to get up." Marco said, undeterred. "Unless you'd like to stay in bed? Maybe take care of that beautiful hard on?"

Xavier didn't need to look down to know the sheet across his hips did nothing to hide the wood he sported. He rolled over, putting his back to Marco. "Would you go away? It's not even daylight yet." he complained.

"I haven't slept," Marco said, as if that explained why he was waking Xavier at the butt-crack of dawn. "I've been working on the photos all night. They are excellent. Some of the best work I've done."

Xavier snorted softly. "Great! Fan-fuckin-tastic! Lay off the coke and get some goddamn sleep."

Marco ignored his comment as if he hadn't spoken. "Were you dreaming?" he asked.

Xavier's back stiffened. "Why? Did I say something?"

"No, you moaned though." Marco said, his voice dropping a bit. That little moan had sent a tingle down his spine.

"I don't remember if I was dreaming." Xavier lied. It was none of the photographer's business what was in his head.

"It must have been a good dream..." Marco persisted. "You looked like you were enjoying it. Shame to waste such a nice erection. I'd really like to take pictures while you stroke it... I promise not to touch you, unless you want me too?" he cajoled.

Xavier chuckled mirthlessly. "That wasn't part of the deal."

"Please?"

Xavier sighed. He was horny and he was having a hard time not reaching down as it was. Marco talking about it wasn't helping. He wanted Marco to leave so he could get off but he didn't think the photographer was going to go away any time soon. "What would you do with the pictures?" Xav asked.

"Keep them. I don't sell pornography. It would ruin my reputation."

Xavier rolled onto his back again. "I want more money."

"I'm already paying you too much."

Xavier arched a brow. "Shall I quote you? Some of the best work I've done." He mimicked Marco's plaintive singsong style cruelly. "Would it still have been some of the best you've done if you were taking pictures of the fuckin wall?" he asked, and for good measure he slid a hand down his chest slowly, teasing his fingers along the edge of the sheet. "You're going to make a lot of money. I want some of it, that's all."

Now Marco chuckled. "Aldo told me you were a smart kid; not to underestimate you. I'll double what we agreed on, if you let me take pictures now...and stay one more day."

"Fine." Xavier sighed, sliding his hand lower, beneath the sheet. His fingers skated over the sensitive head of his cock and he closed his eyes.

Marco caught his breath and brought his camera back up. Yeah, he was a little infatuated, but he hadn't lied. He had taken some very good pictures yesterday, better than a simple magazine spread deserved. He'd get the rest of the shots for the ads taken today, and then tomorrow he'd work on his own project for an upcoming exhibit in a few months. Right now though he brought the focus in as the sheet slid down to Xavier's thighs. Such a beautiful boy! He was torn between wanting to fuck him and wanting to shoot him, always a dilemma for the photographer.

The shutter clicked away but Xavier didn't play to the camera. He did his best to pretend Marco wasn't even there. He sank back down into the memory of his dream as he wrapped his fingers lightly around his aching cock and began a slow, rhythmic stroking motion, up and down the pulsing shaft. It was not going to take long, he could tell. He had been fiercely aroused in his dream, close to coming already when he woke. His left hand drifted over his ribs and up across his chest, a finger circling around the taut bud of his small nipple while his strokes became firmer and quicker on his prick.

Glistening drops of precum leaked from the end and he rubbed the slickness over his silky head, a groan coming to his lips. He lifted his hips in short thrusts into his pumping fist. In his head Rayne slid into him, filling him up, as cool lips caressed the side of his throat and seductive hands roamed his body. Oh yeah...! That was it...!

He whimpered as he drew closer, his thigh muscles bunching rhythmically as his heels dug into the mattress. He was almost there, almost... He pictured the way Rayne like to buck into him hard and deep just before he came, the little sound he made in the back of his throat as he was fucking him with total abandon. With a hard gasp of his own Xavier's back arched, a shimmering crescent of pearls shooting from the tip of his lurching cock to spatter along his warm tanned skin. He stroked hard and quick as the spasms took him. The release felt so damned good he could barely move.

Marco's breath came fast and hoarse, panting raggedly. His hands shook slightly on the camera. He dick was so hard that it almost felt painful in his shorts.

"So fuckin' hot..." he murmured.

Xavier opened his blue, blue eyes, like slices of summer sky, just a slit of cerulean heat. Blue was normally such a cool colour but there was an inferno in that lazy gaze. The languid, satisfied look on his face, with streaks of cream decorating his heaving, sweat-jewelled belly, made Marco's mouth water. He snapped a last picture, shuddering with pleasure at capturing that delicious moment. Finally he turned the camera off.

"Get cleaned up and come upstairs. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

Xavier chuckled softly as Marco left the room. Yeah. A few minutes!

It was more like half an hour before Xavier went upstairs, and he still beat Marco by a few minutes!

The morning was kind of a repeat of the previous day, with Marco telling him what to change into and where he wanted him while he took photos. He didn't ask him to dance this time, but Xavier had pretty much figured out what he wanted anyway and was more relaxed, only needing a little coaching on stance or expression here and there.