For the Fans

by Nyla K.

How it truly feels to fall from up high.

Three months ago, my lovely mother and I relocated from the city we called home, to a cozy part of the historical northeast you may have heard of—Boston

I’m kind of a weirdo, and I don’t want to have to change myself just to make friends. I’m a strong believer in it’ll happen if and when it happens. If there are people out there who also love art and emo music from before their time, who fan over cryptids and

true crime and Tarantino, then we’ll eventually find each other and become friends. Why force it? Ah, the introvert’s paradox. Waiting for other nerds to come to you.

“Who my father decides to marry is his business. But as far as I’m concerned, you and your mother are simply people I have to tolerate until I graduate and can get the fuck away from all of you.” “Wow…” I breathe and swallow. “Mean.”

“Karma’s a bitch. Treat other people like shit and it eventually comes back to you.”

“Don’t be jealous that I’m out here slingin’ dick,”

You have no clue who you really are.

I can’t fucking believe he’s still in my head. It’s been like two years since he said that to me… And I loathe the fact that the words are still ringing as loudly as they were when he said them.

This is just for the fans… the people who have paid money for me do it. And surprisingly, that notion seems to turn me on even more.

Boston is such a beautiful city. Everything has this colonial feel to it, even the modern stuff. And

with the trees all decorated in orange, red, and yellow leaves, the brisk air brushing across my face… I have to say, I like it here. I wasn’t sure I would when I left New York, but now that I’m in the heart of the city, I can admit it’s a pretty special place.

This is a threesome with my best friend and my uptight stepbrother who hates me. So forgive me for losing my cool just the tiniest bit.

He just seems like the kind of guy no one really knows… Who would never dare let the outside world in on what’s really happening beneath his surface.

I must be an idiot, because I always find myself in situations where I’m the one reaching out, trying to keep the peace with him, and he continually wants no part of it. But I can’t seem to help myself. He’s my stepbrother, and even though he appears to be Mr. Popularity, I can’t help but feel like it is all an act, and in reality, he’s actually very lonely.

“Whatever. At this point, I feel like my fans will pay extra just to watch you guys arguing. The tension between you is insane… When he’s glaring at you, nostrils all flaring, muscles flexing… I’m on pins and needles, just itching for him to kiss you.”

“He doesn’t want to kiss me, he wants to kill me,”

“Okay, well, the line between those two desires is pretty freaking thin, loverboy.”

“Starting without me?” Kyran grumbles, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Okay, ground rules. First off, this is about money, not feelings

Second, you need to sell it.”

“Just don’t touch me if you want to keep breathing.” “Aww, but how will I restrain myself??”

That’s right, Number Nine. My body is bangin’ too.

Immediately, I notice how he submits to her. I would’ve assumed he’d be trying to regain control, but he doesn’t seem interested in that at all.

“Don’t lick me, Avi,” Kyran threatens. “Or I’ll rip your tongue off.” “Mmm… that’s it. Talk dirty to me,” I tease.

“Let’s see who eats better,” Frankie goads us with a grin. “A little healthy competition.”

“Don’t you dare jerk off in front of me.”

“I’ll jerk off whenever I damn well please,” I growl at him, fisting my cock. “The fuck you will.”

But my hand is still around my cock, so it’s more like he’s just… moving it for me. “You’re making it harder…”

“You’re such a fucking queer.”

“But you’re the one jerking my dick off right now.”

“You’re so close to me, Kyran…” I speak in frayed breaths. “If I come, it’ll get all over you.” “If you come on me, I’ll rip your dick off your body,” he growls.

His hands drop in an attempt to cover what is obviously the result of him coming in his pants, then he stomps toward the door. “We never breathe a word of this,”

Three-grand. I made three thousand fucking dollars from that one video

Frankie recorded, of the lamest, most idiotic threesome ever. And let me remind you, that’s three-grand for each of us… Meaning that disastrous excuse for content actually made almost ten thousand dollars.

To be specific, more of me and Kyran. Or the hot grouchy blonde, as they tend to call him.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I have dudes offering to pay hundreds for private videos, detailing all kinds of crazy things they want me to do… with my stepbrother.

And pointless, because there’s literally no way Kyran would ever even consider going gay-for-pay. Especially not with me. It’s not going to happen, and it’s a major bummer because I’m not ready to give it up. The fans

“All of those people are willing to pay a shitload of money for more videos like that one. But just… us.”

“Us hooking up.” His gaze flits to mine. “Stop beating around the bush, Avi. You’re saying we would need to make gay porn to satisfy these fans of yours…” “Okay, well, gay porn is a little extravagant…” I mumble. “It’s really not, though.”

“That’s a great idea in theory, bro, but there’s a hole in your genius plan.” My head tilts. “I’m not fucking gay. I have no desire to hook up with dudes, especially not my dumbass stepbrother.”

“I don’t want to hook up with you either. But for that kind of money, I could pretend you’re not the most obnoxious asshole I’ve ever met. I did it at Frankie’s party…” “Yea, well… you enjoyed that a little too much.”

“So did you.” His eyes snap to mine. “I assure you, I didn’t.”

“I’m not fucking gay, Avi.”

“Yea, I think we already established that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “But we have to at least act like we’re into it, or this will all be for nothing… We don’t have a choice. We have to sell it. For the fans.”

I’m not interested in hooking up with guys. I don’t want them touching my dick, or pressing their bodies against mine… Whispering things over my lips while they drag me into ridiculous, unwelcome spine-tingling orgasms. That’s not me. I’m not gay, no matter how much people online want me to act like I am.

So here I am, wedged snugly between a rock and a gay place.

He’s a bizarre character… A nerd who’s not good at school. An emo kid who smiles all the time. An artist with more muscle than some of the dudes on my team. He’s an aberration, and I think his haphazard personality is what makes me dislike him so much.

“Forgive me for needing to build myself up to this… I’m not as interested in bisexual experimentation as you are, apparently.” “God, you’re uptight.”

“You’re not?” His eyebrow arches, and I shake my head firmly. “Not even a little…?” “No.” My teeth grind together as he sits up.