Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

New York. Back then, "Len Golden" was still "Lenny Goldberger," and Ted was the emo kid nobody looked at twice. Ted remembered Lenny well: a bright-eyed newbie whose only acting credit was a high school production of "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying." Len had seemed oblivious to the wide-eyed stares of the actresses and stage crew. He was just a nice guy from Long Island with dreams of singing on Broadway. No talk of Hollywood or of blockbuster action flicks, no Oscar buzz.
    Not that Lenny would remember him , thought Ted. Ted Aaronson wasn't a memorable kind of a guy. At seventeen, he had been the epitome of geekdom, dreaming of a life somewhere beyond the confines of middle-class suburbia. The guy with multiple piercings, the latest of which was a silver bar through his eyebrow. Kohl eyeliner, mesh shirts, tight black jeans, black Converses or army boots.
    Ten years later, Ted was the proud recipient of an Oscar nomination for Best Makeup for a big-budget zombie film he'd nearly turned down, and Lenny was the hottest commodity in Hollywood. A "thinking-man's action hero," as one of the reviewers had dubbed him. And this new movie just might earn them both an Academy Award.
    "Better?" Ted asked as Len sauntered back into the room. He finished the water in the paper cup he was holding and tossed it into the garbage near the makeup table.
    "Great. So what's next?"
    "I'll take a casting of the front of your torso for the body armor. We'll do your head tomorrow morning and your back in the afternoon, once Tina has the front section ready for me."
    Len nodded and took his place back on the table.
    "We'll start off with you standing up and when the silicone's set, I'll tilt the table and do the plaster on top."
    Ted poured equal amounts of the silicone and hardener into a cup, mixing it until it turned a uniform blue. Then with his fingers, he began to slather the mixture in a thin coating over Len's chest.
    "The release cream I rubbed on you will keep your hairs from sticking to the silicone," Ted explained, eager to keep his mind off the feel of Len's body. Talking helped calm the errant twitch of his cock. Well, at least a little.
    He certainly wasn't going to be at his best with constant wood. He even considered using a brush to paint the silicone, figuring it might be less of a turn-on. Some of his colleagues preferred brush to fingers, but Ted had always appreciated the sensual, artistic nature of the process. In high school, he had loved to work in clay, and the connection between his fingers and an actor's skin always reminded him of sculpting classes in college.
    No. You do what you always do. You can jack off all you like tonight, back home, but now you're going to do your job the way you know you need to do it.
    "Cold." Len laughed in a low rumble that made Ted's jeans feel tighter still. If that was even remotely possible.
    "Don't move," Ted warned. He didn't want to spoil the casting, but he also didn't want the other man to see the bulge at his crotch. He thanked the gods that he hadn't tucked his shirt inside his pants.
    "Sorry." Len closed his eyes as Ted continued to cover his chest in the paste, making sure to coat the indentation beneath Ted's Adam's apple and slightly farther up.
    God, but Len's body was fucking perfect! His chin was rough with stubble and Ted's cock jumped again at the prospect of shaving that strong jaw tomorrow before he cast the actor's face for the prosthetics. Ted imagined licking the base of Len's neck, feathering bites and kisses up and over his jaw.
    It was going to be a long three hours.
    ****
    Three days earlier…
    Ted sat, listening to the studio handler prattle on. "And of course," she told Ted's assistant, Tina, "Mr. Golden will need all his meals brought in from Francine's Naturals. Bubbly water, maybe some Italian soda—you know, the all-natural fruit juice variety. No sugar. Protein bars. Fresh fruit. Cheese, but not the super fatty French stuff. A good Emmentaler or Gruyère. Whole wheat baguettes."
    Tina nodded, catching Ted's eye from time to time to roll her eyes in disgust. She was right out of school, damn lucky to have her job, and she knew it. But she also knew Ted had little interest in the Hollywood bullshit, and that he hated this as much as she did.
    Ted shot her a look of warning. This gig was huge, and he had no intention of letting Tina screw it up for him. The studio was paying him a fortune to transform its hottest star into an alien