Scandaleux

by Galiko

Sindria Studios has blossomed into one hell of a pornography studio over the years-the problem is, they need someone special. Kou Studios, of course, has the perfect star, young and fresh no matter what he does, and Sinbad would give an arm and a leg to get his hands on Judal, just for one film-or barring that, get his cute secretary in his bed with the camera rolling. Modern AU.

6. Chapter 6

Cassim doesn't like change.

Not this kind, where his big film is derailed so he can make a new one where his name isn't even top billing, not after everything he's done for this company-

But Ja'far had been….convincing.

That's one of the things Sinbad finds most charming, the way Ja'far gets all scary and intense whenever someone insults him. It's precious, flattering, and a little inconvenient most of the time. Right now, at least, it's working in his favor. "All right," he calls, nodding to the director. A second later, a camera starts rolling, and a fake doorbell rings. Lights go on, and Judal walks onto the set, in a frilly little number and high heels, with the stick of a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. Classic.

Judal doesn't know quite what to expect when it comes to working with Cassim-he's definitely heard that name before, and not just in flipping through Sindria Studios' videos-but this isn't exactly it.

It's not the scenario. It's not the porno at all, actually, even though it takes all his practice and experience to keep a straight face when he opens the 'door' and Cassim is there, dressed as a pizza boy. He's done a dozen times more ridiculous things, and this is kinda cute, besides.

No, it's just… Cassim's kind of a sleaze ball, never mind how hot he is (or could be…). It's the dreads, Judal decides, eyeballing them. Yeah. Not a fan. "Oh! I must've left your tip inside. Why don't you bring that in here and I'll… nope, sorry, can't do it," Judal wheezes, turning away with a choked back laugh. God. This is just bad. "You know, an actual restaurant would make you put those things up in a hairnet."

"Cut!"

Sinbad is on the set in an instant, even before the director gives him a panicked glance and Ja'far gives him the I told you so. "Judal, baby, what are you doing?" he asks, trying to stay nice when his main star looks as if he's about to punch a hole through concrete.

"You got a fucking problem with my hair?" Cassim snarls, ripping off the pizza hat and throwing it to the ground. "You got something against my people?"

"I'm sooorrry, I swear I'm not normally this much of a prima donna, it's just-" Judal gestures helplessly, trying not to teeter back onto his heels and fall right the fuck over. "Dude, it has nothing to do with your people, it's your fucking hair. Am I supposed to let that touch me? Groooosss."

Ja'far sets his face to his clipboard.

Sinbad wraps an arm around Judal's shoulders, trying to steer him away, but Cassim is there before he can even try, getting into Judal's face with a glare. "You think I don't fucking wash? Is that some kind of racist-"

"No one said anything about that, Cassim," Sinbad says soothingly. "Go sit down, I'm going to have a little talk with Judal."

"And what the fuck kind of a name is that?" Cassim demands, ignoring Sinbad's calming hand. "Judal? What are you then, some kinda fucking terrori-"

Sinbad leaves Judal be for a moment, clapping a hand over Cassim's mouth. "Take a walk," he says, voice low, eyes flashing.

"You're kidding, right?" Judal can't bite his tongue after that and he turns right back around, stepping closer with a sharp clip of his heels. "You really wanna keep pulling the race card? Come on, I've fucked a dozen black guys and loved it. I'm bitching because dreads are gross, there are studies on that, you know. And hey, I dunno what you've got going on between your legs, but if there's dreads there, too-"

All right, Sinbad is done playing nice. "Enough!" His voice is loud enough that most of the talk on the set falls into a hush, and he spreads his glare evenly between the two stars. "No more name calling. No more slurs. You two have ninety seconds to each apologize and get your asses back on that set, or the only movie I'm going to put out this week is home video of me fucking a bowl of tapioca pudding. Got it?"

Judal pauses, contemplating. "… but I'd watch that-"

"Oh, for god's sake," Ja'far groans off set, turning on his heel with an exasperated shake of his head.

"This doesn't even make sense anyway, you know. I'm supposed to be a babysitter, right? What happened to the kids, did he cook them up in the pizza or-"

"Oh, so now I'm a fucking cannibal? Just because I'm black?"

"JUDAL." Sinbad has to take a moment, then a deep, calming breath. "Come upstairs with me, I need a cigarette. You," he growls to Cassim, "go ask Ja'far about your last report sheet, you forgot to sign something." It's a lie, but Ja'far's pretty much the only one who can keep Cassim in line when he's having a tantrum.

"More like because anyone with dreads like that wouldn't be allowed to work at a real pizza joint," Judal mutters underneath his breath, but turns after Sinbad with a huff and a flounce as they walk out of the room. "Soooorrry, it's just kinda gross, it's making me all-" Judal shivers, wiggling his fingers. "Woogly. Also, he gives me the creeps in general."

"He's an asshole," Sinbad allows, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket on the way up to the roof, lighting it once they're outside, "but he's a hard worker and he looks great on camera. It wasn't easy convincing him to share billing with you. I did have other stars before I got my hands on you, I can't just turn my back on them now. And come on, are you really looking for authenticity in a skin flick?"

"No, I'm just being a bitch," Judal sighs, leaning back against the railing. "Just… hmm. I dunno, I can't stop thinking that I heard someone talk about him before. Not just in porn, I mean."

"Not that weird a name. But let me know if you remember, will you?" Not paranoid isn't the same as stupid. Sinbad takes another drag on his cigarette, flicking ash over the edge of the building. "Ja'far should have him calmed down by now. You gonna be able to do this, or should I cancel?" He reaches out a hand, tugging on a pigtail. "I'll still keep you either way. Don't be afraid of that."

Judal contemplates. "… If I say 'yes', do I still get to see that home video of you fucking some pudding?"

Sinbad laughs, crushing out his cigarette after a last long drag. "If you say yes, I'll videotape me covered in pudding, your choice of flavors."

"Something fruity," Judal immediately agrees, teetering upright again. "Hey, when do we get to make a vid? Ima get my belly pierced soon, it'll be good."

Sinbad thinks for a minute, grabbing Judal and twirling him around before leading him back downstairs. "Next week? I'll set it up in the studio, properly come out of retirement and everything. Just for you."

"Ahh, really good! Are we gonna do the belly dancer thing and everything?" Judal eagerly asks, all but bouncing after Sinbad. Now, the sooner he tolerates Cassim and gets this over with, the better.

"Absolutely. I've already ordered the costumes. You want to be a prize dancing harlot for the Sultan?" Across set, Sinbad can see Cassim looking properly chastised, Ja'far looking rather satisfied with himself. Perfect.

"More than anything," Judal sighs, sparing a somewhat put out glance toward Cassim-not Sinbad, not by a longshot-before deciding to just not care. The sooner he gets this over with… "Okay, let's just get this done, then you can take me out to dinner or something."

"Anywhere you want. Pick something expensive, I've got a craving for nice champagne tonight." Sinbad squeezes Judal's hand, then gives his ass a slap. "Go on, make me proud." Show everyone why having you here is worth the headache.

Cassim is surly when Judal re-enters, but he scoops his crumpled pizza hat off the floor, crams it back onto his head, and gets back into place. "Whenever you're ready, boss."

At least Cassim doesn't have dreads between his legs.

It's easy enough to focus and just get shit done when the objective is getting the hell out and spending time with Sinbad. Judal is good at this, after all, even if his head is pounding at the end of the day and he's starting to feel shaky all over again. A few pills and it takes care of most of it, though they don't have the same effect as before, and it's hard not to pop just a few more of them when his ass is stinging and his scalp hurting a bit from where he's been yanked around. No one knows how to pull hair these days…

"Right!" he suddenly recalls at the end of the day as he bundles himself up in his coat. "I definitely heard Kouen on the phone with that prick at one point. Not too long ago, week and a half or so? Unless you've got another Cassim running around this joint…"

"I'm about to just take this whole computer home with me," Ja'far mutters underneath his breath. "Sin, I told you that irritating the Ren family was like kicking a beehive."

Sinbad's eyes go dark, chest tightening with sudden furious hot anger, but his voice is light enough as he suggests, "Looks like it's not their people we have to keep an eye on, this time. Ja'far, look into it?" His face is a lot more serious than his voice when he meets Ja'far's eyes. Take care of it. Like you know how. "And if he seems sorry, tell him I want to talk to him tomorrow. Judal, do you prefer American fine dining or Italian, I've got a craving for pasta tonight."

"Italian!" Judal latches himself to Sinbad's arm, headbutting his shoulder. "And maybe afterwards, we can practice for our video, hmm?"

Ja'far barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. "You should at least let Masrur trail you, if you're going to be out and about. I wouldn't put it past the Ren family to take a hit out on you at this point."

"Good, put Masrur on it. Besides," he adds, with a grin and a pointed look down at his jacket-covered hip, "let them try, I'm ready for them. Italian, huh?" He gives Judal's ass a pinch, leading the way out to the car. "Good, I want to get you loaded up on carbs if we're going to be doing some practicing. You'll need all the energy you can get, I promise."

"Really good," Judal sighs, flopping into the passenger seat tiredly. "Uggh, my ass hurts, though. He spanks hard, doesn't he know it's supposed to be at least half for show? Jerk. I hope Ja'far kills him or something."

He just might, if Cassim pisses him off enough. "Kills him? Boy, you really have heard a lot of lies about my company, haven't you?" The gun on his hip is heavy on his belt as he sits, but the grin is unforced. "I'll dock his pay for messing you up. I'm not sure if this is much consolation, but you two looked really good on film."

"I've heard a lot of rumors," Judal admits, settling back with a careful little wriggle. "And eh, don't worry about it, I've heard worse. I'm just whiny because I'm achy and stuff… at least we looked good. I'd just prefer if it was you."

"Had to keep him happy," Sinbad admits with a sigh. "He's awful when he's unhappy, and the only way to keep him from making a stink is to make sure he gets paid, a lot. And then he lectures you about what it's like to grow up on the streets, as if he's the only one in this line of work that-" He cuts himself off, biting his tongue. "But he looks great on film. And he's got quite a following."

"Fucking asshat about being black, too-like, who cares?" Judal snorts, his eyes rolling. "Really cute, calling me a terrorist. I think it made him mad that I was such a good fuck."

"He's over-sensitive. And pissy. Don't tell him I said that." Sinbad pulls into his favorite Italian place, tossing the keys to the valet. "He's probably annoyed because he's been trying to get me to hire a friend of his for months, and you just took the top spot."

"Well, maybe if his friend was as hot as I am, you would've hired them already," Judal sniffs as he climbs out of the car. "I never get to go anywhere this good," he sighs happily. "Always stuck at Ren 'family' dinners by myself-hey, does all this mean we're official? Like, dating? Freckles won't care, will he?"

"Why would Ja'far care?" Sinbad asks, blinking in slight confusion. "He doesn't care who I date. Which, at the moment, is you." He wraps an arm around Judal, ignoring a couple dirty looks from older men and woman as he strides into the restaurant. "Table for two."

"Do you have reservations?" the hostess asks, blinking up at him through a thick pair of glasses.

"I have a table. Sinbad."

He has to laugh to himself when a waiter appears as if by magic, hurrying him to his permanent table by the garden. "It just sounds so good to say," he murmurs to Judal, pulling out the chair for him before seating himself. "I liked my alias so much I changed my legal name years ago. That's in my book too, by the way. Very cool story."

"I was wondering if that was your real name or not," Judal admits as he sits down, shimmying out of his coat as he looks around the restaurant. "And what do you mean, dating me 'right now'? I'm a permanent fixture, you're not kicking me out any time soon." Or you better not, at least.

"I meant I'm dating you right now as in, this is us, here, right now, on a date. So obviously, we're dating." Sinbad leans forward onto his elbows, then breaks off a hunk of bread from the basket. "And when you come back to my place tonight, we'll be fucking right now. Doesn't mean we're not going to keep fucking for as long as you can take it."

"Oh. Well. Good, then." Judal sinks back after stealing a piece of bread for himself, looking infinitely pleased. "I'm surprised no one's tried to drag me off yet," he admits. "But that thing with Cassim, that might be their way of getting back at you if it's legit…"

"You know they really can't, right?" Sinbad asks, raising an eyebrow. "You're an adult. It's a free country. No one can make you do anything except the police, and that's only if you let them catch you," he finishes with a wink.

"Yeah… You're right." Judal shifts, absently rubbing at his arm. Never mind it's less an issue of being a free country and the simple fact that the Rens aren't really that bad, they're just… well, mostly, Gyokuen is just a bitch, and it's hard to get out from underneath her influence. "They just took care of me for awhile," he says instead, which is also true. "It's hard to forget I don't have to listen to them when I'm not mooching off of them."

Sinbad waves a dismissive hand, then grabs another piece of bread, dipping it in olive oil and vinegar. "You shouldn't think about it that way. You were working for them, they were paying you. You were making money before you hooked up with the Rens, right? Cam modeling?"

"If you could even call that money. It's hard finding places that'll… well… fake IDs are hard," Judal mutters underneath his breath, put out. "Anyway, I was living in their house, that's a little bit different than them just paying me."

"You said they paid for your apartment," Sinbad points out. A finger signals a waiter, and a moment later expensive champagne splashes into his glass. "Thirsty? We're celebrating, after all."

"… Never exactly stayed in it-they always wanted me over, so I was over… nicer there, besides," Judal grumbles. He pauses, opens his mouth to say something about how he's not really legal, but then again, his ID does say he's 23, so-"Yeah, sure. What are we celebrating again?"

"The completion of your first film with Sindria Studios, of course!" At a signal the waiter pours a second flute, and Sinbad holds his aloft. "To the first of many, and the beginning of a long string of successes."

Coming from Sinbad, it actually sounds real-not a pitch sold to keep him around, not a bunch of pretty words to keep fucking with him. Judal grins, lifting his own glass to toast with the other man. "Yeah, okay. I'll drink to that, so long as my next film is with you!"

Sinbad drinks eagerly to that, refilling his glass before he sets it down. "Beautiful. I've already got the writer working on it, did I tell you? She should have it done by tomorrow, then we just have to wait for the costumes. Not exactly standard issue schoolboy."

"All the more reason to practice after dinner," Judal happily reminds him. "And thank god, you have really nice hair. No gross dreads."

"It's your hair I'm interested in pulling," Sinbad says, but he can't help running an appreciative hand back through his own hair, or side-eyeing himself in the window. He does look nice today, definitely. The suit jacket was a good idea. "Seriously, not a peep from the Rens?"

Judal shakes his head, though pulls out his phone for good measure, flipping through just to make sure. "Nothing. Really not a good sign-ugh," he groans, flopping back into his seat. "Can we quit and go into hiding or something?"

"Not on the table. I'm not afraid of them," Sinbad reminds Judal, and plucks the phone from his fingers. "I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you. I haven't gotten where I am by letting people threaten and intimidate me or the people I care about."

"Not afraid of them either, just tired of their bullshit," Judal mumbles, pouting as he looks aside. "And don't want Gyokuen stabbing me with more needles again, that sucks."

"Judal." Sinbad reaches across the table, brushing his fingers under Judal's chin, meeting his eyes. "It's no crime to end a business relationship when it's not working out. Or a personal one. You have to do what's right for you."

"Mmn." Wish it were that easy. "I know." They took care of me, you don't get it. Judal shrugs, leaning away. "Just hard not to miss certain things, I guess. Wonder how Gyoku's doing, too."

"The girl? Right, you two were dating." Sinbad fills up his glass again, and tops off Judal's champagne. "This split might be a good thing for that, you know. Hard to hide from her brothers in her house, but...well, Kouen can't be everywhere. I sure wouldn't care if you brought someone home."

Drinking is a really good thing right now, Judal decides, and he promptly knocks back his glass. "She's at boarding school, sent her there after they found out we had the slightest thing going on," he sighs, annoyed. "It's better if I don't bother, she'll just get in trouble."

"Ah, well. There are other hot Asian fish in the sea. You ready to order?"

Judal barely resists kicking him underneath the table. "Yeah. Food is good." Better to drown his sorrows in food and champagne than give into the desire to pop another damned pill. It's bad, probably, that he's even considering it. Oh well.

"So," Sinbad says, when the food is ordered and the champagne refilled, "tell me your secret. Don't worry, I won't do anything with it, I just want to know. What is it," he asks, leaning forward to rest his cheek on one hand, "that makes you look so much better on camera than anyone I've met in….well, ever? The camera doesn't add ten pounds, the lights don't wash you out, I doubt you even need makeup."

"… Sold my soul to a camera demon?" Judal dryly supplies, then gives a little, unsure shrug. "I really don't know. I didn't know I looked that good. I just do whatever, I like fucking so it's easy. The end."

"You started real young. What, fourteen, fifteen?" Sinbad gives him a wry grin. "Same age as me, when I ran away. But you're a hell of a lot easier to work with than most guys I've worked with, even the ones in their thirties, forties. I mean, except that whole racist gigglefit bitchfight."

"I wasn't being racist!" Judal protests with a pout. "He was the one making it into a race thing. I was just-look, his hair was gross and I was kind of high, so it made it really funny and I couldn't help it. I said I was sorry."

Sinbad waves that away, a grin on his face. "I meant him, not you. Don't worry, I know he's the one that started flinging those words around." He tilts his head to one side, thinking. "If you could make any movie, any movie you wanted, dream cast, dream script, whatever, what would you want to do?"

"Dunno," he sighs, plopping his chin down into his hands. "Doesn't really matter, even, so long as it has you in it. I wanted to make a video with you for a looong while. I didn't think you'd ever come out of retirement, though."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think I would either." Sinbad leans back in his chair, eyes widening at the arrival of his veal, tucking in as he muses, "I didn't expect you to be so convincing. It's going to be weird to top on camera, though. Have to get all new acting skills, all new faces to make."

"You did it already before, though!" Judal reminds him cheerfully, making an eager grab for his own silverware when his food touches down. "Remember, we made a video ourselves. Not much more effort than that. Unless you wanna be lazy and surprise, the belly dancer bangs you on your throne."

"Ah, it's different, and you know it." Sinbad scratches his head, remembering the lights, the uncomfortable positions, the deep, burning ache that had come with being filled for hours at a time-but he wouldn't be doing that, he reminds himself. It will be different. And it'll be with Judal. "Maybe that's the secret to you. You always make it look real."

"But it's not, really-maybe it was for you, because you didn't like bottoming that much," Judal points out, twirling a generous portion of spaghetti around his fork. "So you were actually acting. That takes effort. I'm actually getting off, not faking it." His head tilts contemplatively. "Does that make me a slut?"

"Of course not. Not for this line of work, anyway." Sinbad has to close his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of the meat and pasta and cheese. "My mentor used to say that if you can still remember some part of everyone you've slept with that hasn't paid you, you're not a slut." He frowns. "Though he was probably just trying to get me into bed. That's a lot of qualifications."

"Ah, I'm a slut, then," Judal confirms with that reasoning, entirely unashamed. "I don't remember anything about Cassim other than the fact he was a douchebag."

"That's enough for me," Sinbad says dismissively. "Besides, you're getting paid for today, so that doesn't count."

"… Proobably would do it anyway," he admits with a sheepish grin. "Just because it's fun. Though I would be a lot pickier."

"Let me guess, if you weren't getting paid….no dreads?" Sinbad laughs, tossing back another glass of champagne. "You should have seen him before I cleaned him up."

"Giiiaaant pass. Don't want pics, don't show me, too gross. Black guys are fine, just no dreads," Judal shudders. "Have you seen those things hen you cut them open?"

"Better not," Sinbad decides. "Better leave me content in my delusions, or I'd probably break into his house and shave him in his sleep." He shoves the last few bites into all the sauce he can muster, finishing with another glass of champagne. "The veal here is ridiculous. You want dessert?" The image of giving Judal another kind of treat flashes into his mind, and he leans forward, laying a hand on Judal's. "Or I could take you home still hungry."

"… If you have ice cream at home," Judal innocently suggests, "we can always have dessert that way. I make a good platter."

Sinbad's eyes flash. "You'd be cold. And sweet. And it would get really messy, and….well, let's just say I'd have a lot of clean-up work to do."

"Sounds like you get all the really fun parts," Judal sighs, batting his lashes. "Do I get to have something sweet, too?"

"I've got whipped cream," Sinbad suggests, running a finger down Judal's hand. "And cherries. And chocolate syrup. And sliced peaches. Any of this sound good?"

Judal's fingers curl, flexing rather like a kneading cat. "Depends on if I get to eat it off of you or not."

"You get," Sinbad murmurs, "to eat it off any part of me you want." He raises an eyebrow, foot sliding forward under the table to run up the inside of one slender leg. "Anything in particular come to mind?"

Now that's really not fair. Judal shivers, toes curling a bit in his shoes as he wriggles. "Stomach… and thighs… but the best part is afterwards," Judal sighs, eyes lidding, "when I finally get to suck your cock again. Missed the taste of you. Might skip dessert for that."

Sinbad wads up his napkin, dropping it on the table before pulling out cash, leaving a very generous tip before standing, offering Judal his hand. "Shall we?"

He sort of doubts they'll even get to the dessert, just as they hadn't gotten to his slow tease of fucking Judal with toy after toy before, always giving up after ten minutes and throwing each other against something, mouths and hands hungry, and ah, he's missed feeling like this. It's all he can do to keep his hands off Judal on the car ride home, and honestly he doesn't try very hard. By the time they make it back to his apartment, he's a bare second away from throwing Judal against the wall. "You still hungry?" he breathes, wrapping his arms around Judal from behind the moment they're inside, bending to nibble on his neck.

Dessert's a nice idea, but car rides always make Judal's mind wander, especially when he can't grab and touch too much during them. "Yeah, but-" He wriggles, twisting in Sinbad's hold with a grin, stretching up on tiptoe to wrap his arms around his neck. "I've got a better idea for dessert now. Well, at least I think it's a good one. You can laugh, if you want."

Sinbad's eyebrows raise, and he slings his arms around Judal's back, pulling him close as he murmurs in the kid's ear, "I have a feeling I'll say yes. Go on, tell me." Mentally, he runs over a list of what Judal's likely to ask for-yep, should have everything in the house already, no need to shop.

"… Just wondering what your cock would look like all wrapped up in lace." Judal wriggles closer, a hand snaking down to palm Sinbad through his slacks. "Y'know, underneath this nice suit of yours… it'd be fun unwrapping it all to find panties and garters and things." He licks his lips. "I wanna suck you off, while you're still wearing all of it."

Damn, but that's enough to make Sinbad wish he'd worn something like that already. He tips Judal's head up, brushes a kiss across his lips, and murmurs, "Hold that thought. And make yourself comfortable wherever you want, I'll find you."

There's something to be said for having the kind of life he does. Part of that is a rather extensive collection of lingerie left from past partners, some of it brought to his home for screentests before they'd had a whole studio, and it's the work of a minute to slide into a lacy thong, amused at himself as he tugs his pants back on, leaving his shirt untucked. "Judal?" he calls, creeping back into the living room.

Judal perks up from where he's flopped on the couch, pushing himself up onto his elbows with an eager sweep of his eyes. Sinbad looks good no matter what, but untucked and somewhat hurried-touseled-yeah, that's really nice. Nicer still, imagining what's underneath. "… You wanna fuck my mouth right here, Daddy?" he breathes. "Or do you want me on my knees?"

"On your knees." He hasn't had Judal quite like this yet, and with eyes (and eye makeup) like that, it's hard to remember why, except that he hadn't wanted to scare the kid. Like that's even possible. "And open your mouth, I want to see how much you want to suck me off." He walks forward, palming himself through the expensive fabric, gold eyes flashing.

It's hard to remember a time he's moved so fast to do as he's told, scrambling up and then down to his knees in front of Sinbad, lips parting eagerly as he whines in the back of his throat. One hand lifts to grab, tugging at Sinbad's slacks, wanting them down so he can see what's underneath and more importantly, wanting his cock.

Judal looks like he's made for this, an eager, hungry thing pawing at the front of his pants, revealing the black lace and strings. "Go on," he urges, and threads a hand in Judal's hair, yanking his face closer, using enough strength to rub against Judal's cheek, a wet spot already leaving a slick trail through the lace. "You're good at this, right? Show me."

Judal huffs out a hot, eager breath, nuzzling eagerly between Sinbad's legs as his fingers make quick work of yanking Sinbad's pants down. He was right, of course-Sinbad looks good in lingerie, even if it's just a scrap of lace. It looks obscene against his thick, straining cock, and Judal's lips part, mouthing the hard line of him through the skimpy material, a low, hungry noise rumbling in the back of his throat.

He doesn't bother with his hands-doesn't need them, not when his teeth can catch the edge of the panties and tug them down, leaving them bunching low but not entirely off when his lips close around the head of Sinbad's cock, tongue hungrily lapping at him, his eyes lidded and dark. "You gonna shove my face down, Daddy?" he pants out, cheeks flushing with the very thought. "Want you to. Want you to make me choke on your big cock."

Judal's mouth is a sinful thing, both the words spilling from it and the hot, wet drag of it against his cock, making Sinbad's breath come short, his skin tingle. "I bet you do," he murmurs, both hands coming up now to tangle in Judal's hair, getting a nice firm grip on him that won't pull too sharply. "You like cock, right? I can see it in your eyes when you're shooting, you love having it in you."

His arms tighten, and he yanks Judal down, bumping against the back of his throat and barely pausing before thrusting forward again. "Take my cock then. Show me how much you need it, my slutty baby girl."

Judal groans, his eyes rolling back as he swallows hard around Sinbad's cock, wet, sloppy noises escaping as he works to take every inch of him. No matter how good he is, it still makes him gag-Sinbad's thick, filling every inch of his mouth and making him pant hard through his nose, his eyes wet as he glances up through his lashes, mouth stuffed full and working still for more.

His hands are eager things, grabbing at Sinbad's hips, fingers sliding up into the strings of his panties as he grabs, nuzzling down further until his nose bumps against Sinbad's skin again. Judal's own cock throbs between his legs with every suck and swallow, every drag of his tongue that lets him taste all the more, and he squirms, moaning when Sinbad shoves deep down his throat.

"Slut."

It makes him harder just to sigh out the word, as if Sinbad needs to be any harder right now. His hips twitch forward every time he yanks Judal down, and he makes an effort to pull out with a slick pop, a thin strand of saliva trailing between the head of his cock and Judal's lips. One little motion is enough to rub his cock over those shiny, swollen red lips, and a wet streak up one cheek. "Beg me to put it back in," he murmurs, one hand coming down to curl around the base of his own cock, wiping it on Judal's face. "Tell me you want your Daddy to fuck your face." It's probably a lot more obscene that he's doing this with the elastic string of a thong digging slightly into his balls, but somehow that just makes him harder too.

Judal shudders, his eyes fluttering as his swollen lips part eagerly, tongue swiping over them for another taste. "Please." His voice is a desperate, hoarse thing, and it takes everything he has not to come without even touching himself. "P-please, Daddy," he groans, lurching forward to nuzzle at Sinbad's cock, mouthing a hot, sloppy kiss to the side of it. "Put it back in, fuck my face, love being just a hole for you-"

Damn, but he'd made a good decision when he'd picked Judal up. Sinbad smiles down at him, tightening his hand in Judal's hair, and guides his cock back in. "Since you asked me so nicely, there's a good girl," he croons. "You can barely breathe, can you? You just want to choke on my cock?"

He holds Judal's head still, meets his mascara-running eyes, and thrusts forward slowly, inexorably, groaning when the head of his cock slides down Judal's throat. "There you go," he breathes. "There you go, take it like a good slut."

A desperate, muffled whine chokes into the back of his throat, vision wet and blurry when he tries to wriggle forward just a bit more, until he can't take anymore and he gags, choking on Sinbad's cock. God, he's a slut for liking that, but that makes him harder still-makes him twitch in the confines of his jeans as his hips all but grind against the air.

He'd beg Sinbad to come on his face, but like hell he even wants to pull away. Like hell he could-Sinbad's hands are tight and firm in his hair, holding his head down or each slow, hard thrust, and Judal just whimpers, eyes rolling back when he strains against the hold on principle, just to feel Sinbad's hands tighten and shove him down all the more.

Judal's mouth is something that Sinbad wants to enjoy forever, but, well, this is one time he doesn't mind his tendency towards instant gratification. There will be other blowjobs-Judal looks too good, too sinful on his knees sucking cock, lips stretched obscenely wide as he makes those overwhelmed little choking sounds, throat spasming around him, and Sinbad loses control for a second, thrusting in so hard he can feel Judal's face pressed against his belly. Liquid heat pools at the base of his spine, and he gasps, hot and ragged as he pulls back, spilling over Judal's tongue, a wrench of his hips pulling him out to finish on the kid's face. His pulse pounds, knees almost buckling, and his fingers are twisted tight in Judal's hair as he grinds out, "You like the taste, baby? Sluts like you like to drink a lot of that, right?"

It takes a moment for Judal to remember how to breathe. Sinbad's taste on his tongue, smearing his lips, dripping hot over his face-it's all too much, and he comes without a single touch to his own cock, spilling hot and messy in his own jeans, shivering and twitching where he kneels in front of the other man. "R…really… really like it, Daddy," he moans out, eyes shutting as his tongue flicks out, swiping over his own lips with a whimper in the back of his throat. His head lolls forward, and he licks a hot, wet stripe up Sinbad's softening cock, sucking on the tip to make sure he's tasted all that he can. "Love it-love it when you fuck my face like that-"

Sinbad kneels, his legs finally giving out, and he licks a swath up Judal's cheek, dragging his tongue across the mess he'd left, then pulling him into a deep kiss. He runs his fingers through sweat-damp hair, petting, scratching gently, and murmurs, "You're way too good at that. I never usually come so fast."

"Yeah?" Judal dazedly grins, giving Sinbad's lower lip a nibble before he lets his head loll forward against the other man's shoulder. "You could use me all night like that if you wanted. I love it."

Sinbad stands abruptly, lifting Judal bridal-style in his arms, and carrying him to the bedroom. "Your turn. I saw you on the set, now I want to see what you look like in those pretty frilly things. Before I rip them off you, anyway."

That's nearly enough to make him hard again, no matter if he's just come all over himself. "You must have a hell of a collection," Judal sighs out, letting his head loll back over Sinbad's arm. "Let me dress up pretty for you all the time."

"I bet you'd be pretty no matter what you wear," Sinbad says with a grin, leaning down to give him a kiss before tossing the kid lightly onto the bed. He hits the lights, and opens the spare props and costume closet, raising an eyebrow. "See anything that you like?"

"I look good in red," Judal helpfully suggests as he flops onto his back, lazily lifting a hand to start with the buttons of his clothes and properly strip them off. "I'll let you yank my corset strings, if you've got one in there."

"Definitely have corsets. Not sure about sizing-what are you, a six in women's? Try this." A dark red corset hits the bed, already unlaced. "Don't pick anything too hard to get out of, I want easy access."

"Ooh, nice." Judal loosely laces up the back before he eagerly wriggles into it, letting the strings trail down, ripe for the yanking. "Keep the rest simple, just gimme a thong and some stockings. Used to wear that stuff underneath my clothes all the time. I miss my collection."

"I'll get you a new one. We can go shopping, if you want." A matching thong and a pair of stockings hits the bed before he closes the closet, eagerly watching Judal get dressed. "I'll blow off work some day and just take you around to all the nice shops, we can scandalize the salesgirls."

"Sure you don't want me to just pretend to be your girlfriend?" Judal teases, taking his time to roll each stocking up his legs. "Kouha used to do that, little slut."

"Kouha is girly as hell. You've at least got some nice muscle tone, and some height on you. Nah, we'd be obvious, it's more fun to watch them blush and stammer."

"True that." Judal lets the thong snap into place before he flops back, rolling over in short order with an arch of his back. "You wanna tighten my corset for me, Daddy?"

Sinbad has to take a moment to compose himself before joining Judal on the bed, setting a knee to either side of Judal's hips. "You look pretty," he murmurs, taking one thick string in each hand. "You know, I'm pretty strong. How tight do you want it?"

Judal licks his lips, considering. "… Tight enough," he breathes, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Like it when I'm a little short of breath. Also makes it even better when you're fucking me. You can always yank it tighter later."

Sinbad gives a little pull, nowhere near as much as his full strength, watching the string slide easily through the eyelets. Already the shape curves inward, pressing in tight, shaping Judal's body. "Like this?"

Judal might as well have purred, his back arching as his breath sucks in sharp and fast. "Y-yeah. Little bit more, and it's perfect," he sighs.

Sinbad wraps the strings around his hands again, pulling slowly a bit more, then fastening it off. "I probably shouldn't find this as erotic as I do," he confesses, a bit sheepishly.

A huff of breath, and Judal flops down, pressing his face into the sheets with a little, pleased groan. "Why not?" he sighs over his shoulder, wriggling his hips. "Crossdressing's fun, so long as you're not typecast in it all the time. You look good in lace, too. You should fuck me while still wearing those panties of yours."

"I meant tightening your corset," Sinbad says, giving the strings a quick, playful tug. He eases forward, rubbing his hardening lace-covered cock over the curve of Judal's ass, thumb fiddling with the string. "I just really like the idea of fucking you while you're begging for breath."

"… Should try shoving me around by the throat sometime, then," Judal replies with a slow, lazy grin, his hips rolling back with a shiver running up his spine. "Like it when I can't catch my breath. Like it a lot."

Sinbad's eyes are dark, and he drags a hand down Judal's spine, thrumming against the crisscrossed strings. "Shouldn't tempt me, boy. Are you so sure I'm the kind of man who wouldn't lose control?"

"If you are, maybe that turns me on," Judal breathily groans, squirming beneath the slide of Sinbad's big hands. "You can do all kinds of things to me, whatever you want. I like it. I trust you."

Sinbad leans down to nip at the expanse of one bared shoulder, then murmurs in Judal's ear, "Good. I'll never hurt you."