Work Text:
The first shot is of a couch--chocolate leather, with cream-colored pillows lying in a disturbed position, clearly not where they should be, as if the couch has recently been slept on, or made out on, or fucked on. The shot goes repeatedly in and out of focus, the man behind the camera obviously working with this particular camcorder for the first time, for his hand is unsteady, and there is an unconfident shuffling, static sound as he fidgets with the viewfinder, the zoom, and taps the microphone attached to the front.
BRIAN: Go sit over there. Let me--
Justin comes into view, wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweats. He hops onto the sofa in a rather silly manner, pulls his legs up until they're crisscrossed, and we can see that the bottoms of his white socks are a bit dirty.
He smiles too big to be natural, widens his eyes, and crosses them. The camera slowly zooms in, further and further and further until all we see is Justin's cheek and the corner of his nose.
BRIAN: Shit.
JUSTIN: What?
The camera zooms back out.
JUSTIN: What? Is it--
BRIAN: Never mind.
Justin reclines against the back of the couch and appears to be watching Brian, for his eyes are looking straight ahead and yet not into the camera. He sticks a finger in his mouth and picks at the back of his tooth.
The color changes to black and white for six seconds, then to sepia for two, then back to technicolor.
JUSTIN: What are you doing?
BRIAN: Figuring... He apparently presses a button, for there is a quiet click and the video contrast gets heavier, until Justin's skin goes from a pale peach to solid pink. With another click, the color turns back to normal. ...this thing out.
JUSTIN: Can I see it?
BRIAN: Hold on.
Blue screen.
---
Cut to the image of a painting on an easel. It is unfinished, and mostly a few haphazard streaks of blue, brown, and gold. It is pretty, though, in an interesting way. Maybe it is finished.
The man behind the camera clears his throat. He sounds as if he has a bit of a cold.
We zoom in very close on the painting, until all we see is the whitish color of the canvas and a streak of turquoise in the bottom corner.
JUSTIN: Quietly. Shit.
There are a few clicking sounds.
The date and time stamp appears in the bottom left corner of the image, revealing it to be the eleventh of November, 2014, at 2:12 PM. With another click, it disappears.
The image shakes.
JUSTIN: Goddamn piece of-- Shit.
The camera pans across what appears to be a home studio and carelessly focuses on random objects at super-zoom.
JUSTIN: Jesus Christ. He clears his throat. Brian!
Silence.
JUSTIN: Yelling. Brian!
BRIAN: From far off. What?
JUSTIN: This fucking-- The camera's locked on zoom. How do you get it off?
BRIAN: From closer. What?
JUSTIN: Camera. It's-- Here.
There is a blur of nothingness as Justin hands the camera over.
JUSTIN: I must've turned on the safety lock or-- Something. Sigh. Fix it.
BRIAN: Here.
Silence.
BRIAN: Press this button and it takes it off.
JUSTIN: Which one?
BRIAN: Right here.
JUSTIN: Ah. Okay.
A faint click.
The handler of the camera zooms all the way out, revealing the east wall of a spacious studio. The wall is covered with wooden shelves upon wooden shelves of art supplies and boxes. Each box has a label scribbled on in black Sharpie. Paint. Brushes. Paper.
JUSTIN: Why'd you have to get the most complicated camera on the face of the planet?
BRIAN: Read the fucking manual.
JUSTIN: I don't read manuals.
The shot pans to the right and around until we see Justin. He is dressed in a black cable knit sweater and jeans, and his hair is damp as if he has recently showered. The skin under his nose is pink from being rubbed by Kleenex.
JUSTIN: Let me see it back.
The image shakes as the camera is handed over.
There is the quick sound of a kiss, followed by footsteps.
Justin turns the camera on the retreating Brian, who is dressed only in jeans, and zooms in on his ass. He laughs quietly until Brian walks out of view.
Blue screen.
---
Cut to darkness.
The image blurs in and out from an entirely unfocused blur of gray, to a more focused, staticky gray, as the camera tries to hone in on something in darkness.
There is a click, and the night vision light comes on.
With the low lighting, all we can see is a dark sleigh bed with horribly disheveled covers. The duvet is a pale color, maybe light blue or gray, possibly green.
The operator of the camera walks over to the right side of the bed, and in the silence and stillness of night, we can hear him breathing out his mouth in quiet little puffs.
As the camera pans to the left and down, we see the face of a sleeping Justin. He is lying on his left side, facing toward the camera, with his head resting on an outstretched arm. His mouth is slightly open, and in the light of the camera, we can see a bit of a glimmer of drool.
We focus on him for thirty-three full seconds, watching the image shake a little from Brian's unsteady hand and hearing Brian breathe. But then, right when we think nothing is going to happen, Justin suddenly closes his mouth and presses his lips together hard.
There is a faint, breathy laugh from behind the camera.
Justin relaxes his mouth once more, but then, very quietly and very much still asleep, begins to talk.
JUSTIN: Okay, but that's okay.
The image shakes furiously as Brian silently laughs.
JUSTIN: Lifts the hand of the arm his head is resting on in a wave. I told you, Brian. Smiles. I want the red one. The red one.
BRIAN: Almost indistinguishable. The red one?
Justin's body jerks a little. He opens his mouth as if he is about to say something else, but then closes it.
We watch him for almost two full minutes more.
At the 1:47 mark, Justin's eyes flutter, as if he is waking up, but he simply twists a little under the covers, squeezes his eyes shut tightly for a moment, and then stills.
BRIAN: Affectionately. Twat.
Blue screen.
---
Cut to solid black darkness, but with sound.
Rustling, a bit of thumping. Someone is walking.
JUSTIN: Turn that off.
BRIAN: Make me.
JUSTIN: I would if I weren't-- Stop.
BRIAN: But you look so fucking pretty.
JUSTIN: Give me a br-- Laughter.
BRIAN: What?
JUSTIN: Try taking off the lens cap, genius.
Brian makes a high-pitched, mocking sound, and with a soft pop, an image appears.
Justin is sitting at a cherry oak countertop, writing something with a blue Magic Marker on a notepad. He is dressed in an oversized navy sweater with a sliver of a gray T-shirt poking out above the collar.
Brian walks closer to Justin, and the camera pans down to the notepad, blurring and then focusing, blurring and then focusing, until we can sharply see, though upside down, that Justin is drawing what appears to be a rough sketch of a floor plan. Above the boxy shapes, in all caps, is written, "GALLERY."
We hear the thump as Justin drops his marker in annoyance, and it rolls across the notepad, into frame.
JUSTIN: Let me see that thing.
BRIAN: No.
JUSTIN: Gimme.
The picture shakes, twisting upside down, then right side up, auto-focus working overtime in order to produce a clear image.
Justin laughs maniacally from behind the camera, and as the image stills, we see Brian.
He is standing shirtless in front of a stainless silver refrigerator with several yellow Post-It notes peppering the surface, and both his eyebrows are raised. He is unamused, but jokingly so.
JUSTIN: This is Brian Kinney. He has driven me fucking crazy aaaaaall day.
Brian stares.
JUSTIN: And I am about thiiiiiis close (two blurry fingers appear very close to the lens--a thumb and index finger held an inch apart) to burning this camera in the fireplace.
BRIAN: Gimme that.
JUSTIN: Nooope.
BRIAN: Hand it over.
JUSTIN: Sorry.
BRIAN: I won't film you. Give it here.
JUSTIN: I think you're just gonna have to come get it.
The image shakes, Justin apparently laughing quietly.
We zoom in, in, in, in, all the way up to Brian's mouth. His lips are slightly parted and he has a small, barely-noticeable blemish in the corner of his mouth. The shot zooms all the way back out, and then begins to shake furiously, and then all we see is a blur.
There is the sound of loud footsteps as Justin runs and Brian chases him, along with breathy laughter and then what sounds like a knee hitting hardwood floors.
Suddenly, a white material is all that is seen, the camera lying on some sort of carpet or blanket.
But we hear sounds.
BRIAN: Fucker.
JUSTIN: Laughs. I'll burn it. I will.
BRIAN: Mmm.
A smacking noise, like playful kissing.
JUSTIN: I hate you.
More smacking and laughing.
The camera is bumped and now we see the leg of a cherry oak coffee table.
JUSTIN: Mmm. Laughs. Turn it off.
BRIAN: Why?
A squeaking sound, like a kiss to skin.
JUSTIN: You'll run the battery--
BRIAN: Maybe I want to leave it on.
Someone grabs the camera, and suddenly Justin's head and shoulders are in full view.
He is lying on his back on a white rug, and his hair is fanned out around his head. Brian appears to be straddling his waist.
BRIAN: Maybe I want to film you.
Justin smiles, and his shoulders begin to gently and rhythmically move as if he is stroking Brian or himself below the frame. He blinks slowly, and his lips part as he begins to breath out his mouth.
Brian sets the camera down on the floor, facing the two of them, but unbeknownst to him, the only thing visible is Justin's side from his midsection up to his shoulder. The camera is too close to capture everything in the shot.
JUSTIN: What are you gonna do with it?
BRIAN: Laughs. Sell it on the Internet.
JUSTIN: Mm.
More kissing sounds.
Brian's hands come into view, sliding under Justin's sweater and pushing the material up until it appears to be bunched under Justin's armpits.
BRIAN: Wait.
Two full seconds of blue screen.
Cut to a shot of Justin's face. It is scrunched up, sweat dripping down from his hairline, leaving wet tracks down his skin. He is breathing heavily, and Brian behind the camera is making low, groaning sounds.
The shot itself is bouncy, as if Brian is thrusting, and what we see of Justin is sliding up and down on the floor as his body takes the thrusts.
JUSTIN: Licking his lips and opening his eyes, though seemingly unable to keep them open for long. Harder. Just a little-- Scrunching up his face. Like that. Yeah. Fuck.
We suddenly hear the slapping sounds of hard, fast thrusting.
Brian sets the camera down by Justin's head for a moment, and all we see is blond hair for close to thirty seconds.
But the sex sounds don't stop.
JUSTIN: Breathily. Lemme ride you.
Silence.
Brian picks up the camera and we see a mash of blurriness as he moves around and lies down on his back.
Then the camera focuses on cathedral ceilings, slowly panning down until we view Justin, completely nude, positioning himself on Brian. He is straddling Brian's waist, raised up on his knees, one hand fidgeting behind him as he takes Brian and guides him inside.
He lowers his body down until he is sitting flush against Brian, and as he does so, both men let out an audible groan.
The camera zooms in on Justin's face, focusing shakily there for six seconds as Justin scrunches up his face and bites his bottom lip, breathing harshly out his nose. Then we slowly pan down Justin's body to his cock, which is erect and curving slightly to the left, framed by browny-blond pubic hair.
The camera remains focused there as Justin begins to rock his body, using his thighs to lift up a few inches and then drop back down. As he does so, his cock bounces against Brian's stomach, faster and faster as he works himself into a quick rhythm.
We zoom out all the way until we view Justin from mid-chest down to where his body meets Brian's, and Brian groans loudly.
JUSTIN: Quietly. Feelin' good?
BRIAN: Mmm.
JUSTIN: Lemme see that.
BRIAN: Breathlessly. Don't film me.
JUSTIN: Yeah.
Justin reaches his hand out and grabs the camera, his palm covering the lens as he does so.
After two seconds of darkness, the palm disappears and we see an image of Brian's reddened, sweaty, straining face. He is panting, eyes squeezed shut, and beads of sweat are pouring down his skin.
JUSTIN: You're so fucking hot. Groan.
The image bounces as Justin moves on Brian. We hear slippery, slick sounds of lube and wetness, combined with moans and sighs.
For a moment, the camera pans down to focus on Justin's cock.
Justin pauses and fists it with his left hand.
He zooms in on the wet, pink head as his fist travels up from the base, milking out a sticky, clear fluid that gathers at the slit.
Another hand appears--Brian's--and the thumb grazes across the precum, gathering it up.
The hand disappears and we hear a sucking sound as Brian presumably sucks the precum off his thumb.
The image zooms all the way out and, still primarily focused on Justin's cock, begins to shake as Justin starts to move once more.
BRIAN: Groaning loudly. I need-- Fuck.
JUSTIN: Short of breath. Harder?
BRIAN: Mm.
JUSTIN: Are you gonna come?
BRIAN: I need--
Justin sets the camera roughly on the floor, and it apparently topples because suddenly all we can see is blackness, as the lens is flush against the floor.
There is a soft humming sound and then what sounds like fast movement.
The thump of a back as a body lies down on the floor.
The shuffle of skin against hardwood.
The camera is set upright, and from this angle, we can see Brian and Justin's heads and shoulders.
Brian is on top, pinning Justin to the rug, and his hands are on either side of Justin's head.
He extends his tongue and licks a straight line from Justin's chin to his lips.
JUSTIN: Whispers something unintelligible.
Brian nods, and appears to sit up, leaving the frame.
Justin remains, breathing hard out his mouth, his eyes fixed before him, presumably on Brian.
He licks his lips and, with a quick glance toward the lens, briefly into our eyes, reaches with his left hand and retrieves the camera. There is a blur of color as he maneuvers the device, and then we focus in on Brian, who is straddling Justin's waist, shaking a dark blue bottle.
Brian pops the cap and then squeezes a dollop of clear gel onto his palm.
The shot pans downward in order to capture Brian fisting his cock with the hand filled with lubricant, and then back up again to Brian's face as he appears to move around and position himself at Justin's entrance.
Right as Brian is scrunching up his face and dropping his jaw in pleasure, there is a jump cut, signifying a stop of recording and then a start.
Cut to an image of what looks like skin. The picture is indistinguishable.
JUSTIN: It's-- It's on. Fuck. Low sound from his throat. Jesus Chr-- Faster. Fuck me.
BRIAN: Is it-- Loud panting. Pointed towards--
There is a blur as the camera is retrieved from wherever it resides, but then we get an intermittent glimpse of Brian's straining face as he moves around, thrusting.
Justin's moans are incredibly loud now, as if the camera microphone is right near his mouth.
BRIAN: Fuck. Groan. Fuck, Justin.
JUSTIN: Breathless. You gonna come? Panting. Come inside my ass?
BRIAN: Strained sound. Come inside your ass. Deep insi-- Moan. Deep inside your ass.
The camera pans down to the area between their bodies. It's shadowed, almost too dark to see anything, but we can barely make out Justin's cock, sandwiched between his and Brian's bellies.
Justin's right hand moves down to grasp it, and then the camera's blurring more often than focusing as he begins to jerk himself.
BRIAN: Fuck. Low, needy sound. Justin. Justin.
The screen goes black as if the lens has been inadvertently covered.
There are loud, sucking, smacking sounds, presumably kissing, and then the darkness disappears and the camera is once again focused on Brian.
JUSTIN: Brian. Bri-- Loud moaning. Oh fuck.
BRIAN: Jesus fu-- Fuck. Gasp.
The image blurs beyond distinguish and a loud, popping sound is heard as the camera is apparently dropped onto the floor.
We cannot see anything but an inch of white rug and then hardwood floors.
The moans are getting louder, and then there's a gasping, breathless sound as Brian comes.
JUSTIN: Fuck.
Smacking sounds of kissing.
After that, there is near-silence for seventeen seconds, and then the camera is once again retrieved.
This time Brian has it.
We immediately focus in on a crystal clear image of Justin's cock, which is dark pink and shining with precum. The head is steadily erupting fluid.
The image shakes as Brian moves the camera into the other hand, and then his right hand enters the frame and grasps Justin's cock. He begins to stroke it rapidly, not even allowing time for slow buildup.
JUSTIN: Oh God. Groan. Oh fuck.
Within a matter of seconds, Justin is coming. Whitish semen shoots from his cock in three powerful squirts that spray his lower belly, right at his navel, followed by two more mini-eruptions that drip onto Brian's fingers.
JUSTIN: Quietly. Jesus Christ.
The shot pans upward to focus on Justin's face.
His skin is a deep, sunburned red and his eyes are open but half-lidded, staring up unfocused at the ceiling. He's panting loudly.
There are sucking sounds coming from behind the camera, then a swallow.
Justin's eyes turn toward Brian, who is presumably sucking cum from his fingers. He smiles.
BRIAN: Here. Get up--
Justin nods his head like he knows what Brian wants, and pushes himself into an upright position. He gets up on all fours and turns around, ass toward the camera.
BRIAN: Mmm.
Brian reaches a hand out and spreads Justin's cheeks apart with his middle finger and thumb. We can see the pinkness of Justin's hole, surrounded by short, brownish blond hairs.
Milky semen is beginning to drip out, sliding from the hole and dripping down Justin's crack to his perineum, onto his balls.
The camera shakes as Brian holds it up so it is pointing down at Justin's ass, and then he leans in to lick up the cum.
All we can see his the back of his head, but we can hear wet, sucking sounds, as well as Justin's happy little groans and sighs.
Brian leans back and holds the camera down and off to the side, so all we are able to view is the floor.
There is a thump, as if Justin had flipped over once more onto his back, and then there are more sucking sounds. Soft, wet sounds.
JUSTIN: Gasping. That's-- Laughs. Are you filming?
Blue screen.
Cut to a head and shoulders shot of Brian and Justin.
They are lying on their backs on the rug, and Brian is holding the camera up in the air with one hand, filming down on them.
BRIAN: Another satisfied customer.
JUSTIN: Laughing. Shut the fuck up.
BRIAN: Stares right into the camera. Look at this face and tell me it's not satisfied.
The camera is slowly lowered toward Justin's face, which is bright and happy. Laughing. Brian lowers it so far that the lens ends up pressing against Justin's nose, leaving a print.
BRIAN: Shit.
JUSTIN: Mm. Now you're gonna have to get the cleaner.
BRIAN: Later.
JUSTIN: Chuckling. Why later?
BRIAN: Other plans.
JUSTIN: Liiiiiiike what?
There is a blur as the camera is set down, so that all we see is the skin of someone's side, and then we hear quiet laughter, indistinguishable whispers, and the smacking sound of kissing.
JUSTIN: Quietly. Again?
BRIAN: What do you think?
Kissing sounds.
JUSTIN: Okay.
BRIAN: Where's the--
Three seconds of silence.
The camera is picked up, and we suddenly see a shot of Justin's face.
BRIAN: Say goodbye.
JUSTIN: Laughing. Goodbye?
BRIAN: Camera's taking a little break.
JUSTIN: Don't you wanna film it? He smiles cheekily.
BRIAN: Want you all to myself.
The camera is placed back on the floor.
We hear almost a full minute of kissing and whispering while we watch shadows play on the living room wall.
And then the screen goes black.