Title: Coming Out on Top
Authors: Dean And Sam's Muse & Dean's Angel Cake
Pairing: Dean/Sam, Sam/OMCs, Dean/OMC

Rating: M
Warning: slash, rimming, bondage, toys, threesome, mentions of twincest

Disclaimer: We don't own Dean, Sam or Supernatural. We would love to!
Summary: AU Sam Colt is the hot male erotic star of Casa Erotica Productions who likes his men blond, sub and easy. Dean Winchester is a handsome rising star on a collision course with the uber unyielding top on the set of a new Casa Erotica production Clash of Desire. When two Dom males collide who will come out on top?
A/N: We decided Dean and Sam as stars of Erotic Male Films was the perfect basis for a Supernatural sexy AU. Enjoy! DSM & DAC.

Coming Out on Top
Part 1

Bobby Singer sat behind his desk, overburdened with countless unread memos and files, and said nothing. He had leaned back in his well-used leather chair, his fingers entwined, staring into space. It was the first time Sam had ever seen Singer rendered speechless, and he was not especially looking forward to the time when Bobby recovered from his state of shock.

The network producer for Casa Erotica Productions, Bobby Singer, had taken a huge risk three years ago when he'd agreed to produce the first gay erotica for mainstream audiences. He believed its time had come. Not totally porn, but romance with a story, and explicit sexual content. From day one, the films were a hit, and now Singer couldn't produce them fast enough.

Bobby had spotted Sam Colt on Broadway a few years back, playing a young Hamlet, at the age of twenty-two. He'd come to see him backstage, a big, imposing man with an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth.

Sam was well aware of Bobby Singer, he'd produced some blockbuster movies with big name stars. When the man walked into his dressing room, it felt like he was being visited by royalty.

Singer had shooed everyone out. When the door closed and they were alone, Singer leaned down, looked him in the face, and asked, "How good do you look buck naked?"

"What?" Sam was completely taken aback by this.

"Without your clothes, you know, birthday suit?" Singer walked around the dressing room, peering at the pictures of past productions, which had been put on at that theatre.

"I'm in a fantastic shape," Sam proclaimed proudly. "I have a hot body and I'm hung like a horse."

Singer glanced at him, squinted, then laughed out loud. "All that and modest, too, I see. Look, I'll cut right to the chase, you're a so-so Hamlet. I've seen a hell of a lot better, but you got the look I want, and with some hard work, you have the makings of a fine actor. I want you to come in for a screen test."

Sam stood, excited. "For what role?"

"A role that is either going to make, or break your career. I'm producing the first ever mainstream gay erotic love story. Any objection to kissing another dude?"

"No. I'm gay."

"Good. You're gay and you don't look it. You'll make the perfect top. The script is solid, and if it takes off, I'll make you a star. Here's my card." Bobby handed it to him. "Be there on Monday morning at nine a.m. sharp."

His former agent had counseled him against taking the role. "You'll be type cast forever. You'll never be able to cross over into the mainstream." But what she didn't realize is that Bobby Singer was the mainstream, and he was about to do something revolutionary.

The first film was called, Up in Arms, a love story between a military soldier and his commander, and it had a real script, and an actual story, and six sexual encounters. He played the role of the commander, and his co-star, Nic Haven, played the role of the young soldier who fell desperately in love with him.

The film was a hit. Nic's soft, gentle submissiveness played off beautifully against Sam's macho dominance. They both shot to super stardom overnight, Sam was voted one of Hollywood's top sexiest men, and their on screen relationship sizzled off screen as well.

They did five more movies together over the next seven years, all as successful as the first. Nic was the perfect bottom. He loved to be ravished and Sam liked men who were always willing to do whatever he told them to. But now, Nic was gone. He'd flown off in a fit just because he came in and found Sam fucking one of the lighting techs. Nic had always known there were other men. It was just the way Sam operated, but Sam thought Nic had the good sense to know that in the end, he'd be back in his bed.

They were just about to start production on their latest film, Clash of Desire, when Nic decided to take off with one of the supporting characters, a guy named Raven who had promised him fidelity and forever.

Bobby had apparently heard the news this morning because ever since, he'd been sitting in that chair in the same position, saying nothing. That had been over an hour ago. When Sam arrived at the studio, he had no idea what was going on. Nic hadn't so much as left him a note. Sure, they'd had an argument, and Nic had left Sam's house, steaming over Sam's latest indiscretion, but usually it blew over as soon as Sam coddled him a little and gave him a new piece of expensive jewelry.

Singer's director, Nicole Rhodes, was pacing when he walked into the studio, so he knew something was up. She stopped, looked at Sam and demanded, "What did you do this time? Or should I be asking, who did you do this time?"

Sam made a face. "What?"

"Nic is gone. He's found some clause in his contract, and he's asked to be let out. He's even taken Raven."

"Who's Raven?"

"Oh, Sam!" Nicole threw up her hands, whipping off her glasses. "Are you that much of an asshole? You better go and see Singer now. He hasn't spoken since he learned the news."

When Sam walked into the office, Bobby was sitting there, the same way as he was now, and all Sam could think about was why in hell Nic would be stupid enough to walk out on this film. It was guaranteed to be another hit. Not to mention that he'd taken off with a supporting actor!

Singer brought his chair back down to the floor now with a thud. He glared at Sam angrily. Sam actually took a step back. "You son of a bitch!"

"Okay, this can't be good," Sam mumbled.

"Don't you smart mouth me, boy," Singer stood and pointed his finger at him. "I don't care what you have to do, plead, get on your knees, walk through fire, but get him back here!"

"Give me a break, I wasn't even aware that he'd gone anywhere," Sam replied, holding out his hands. "And I assume we're talking about Nic."

"Who else would I be talking about, you idjit?"

"Look, I'm the one who's been done an injury. He took off with a supporting actor!"

"Injury? I'll do you an injury," Singer threatened. "And how could you not be aware? You were sleeping with him, for Christ's sakes! That's your trouble. You're not aware of anything or anyone but yourself. I knew this was coming."

"Glad you did. Someone could have told me. Look, he's just having a tantrum. He'll cool off and come back like before. Remember that time when we were filming and Nic..."

"Stop. I'm not in any mood to be going down memory lane with you right now. And this isn't like before. I got a fax from his lawyer. This is no jealous tantrum. He's serious. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Last week."

"Did he catch you putting it to some horny fan again by chance?"

"It wasn't a fan. He's too temperamental, the biggest drama queen that ever lived."

"And you're insensitive." Bobby accused.

"I've heard that one before."

"I'm sure. Not to mention an arrogant prick, how about that one, Sam? Have you heard that one before, too?"

Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, okay, fine. Where did he go to?"

"I don't know. He's not picking up his cell phone. I've left half a dozen messages. Call him and beg him to come back, tell him you'll behave yourself."

"Behave myself?"

"Yes, dammit, did I stutter? Behave yourself by trying to refrain from fucking every Goddamn thing that moves for the duration of this film. Indulge him. The fool's in love with you." Bobby bit out.

"I'll do what I can."

Nic had surprised him this time. After Sam left countless messages on his cell phone, Nic didn't call him back crying, saying how he missed him. Instead, a week later, he got an email from him that said simply, I love you, Sam, I always will, but I'm not coming back this time. I just can't take any more pain. Nic

Production was delayed while everyone waited, and Bobby was livid. "I thought you said you could get him back, you chucklehead!" he hollered at Sam on the phone.

Sam refused to admit defeat. "I will. He'll come back soon, in a few days probably."

"Well, we can't wait. And Nic has already been officially released from his contract due to the health clause."

"Health clause?" Sam asked genuinely perplexed.

"Yeah, stress, that he claims you caused him. He's under a physician's care for clinical depression, and he has the doctor's letter to prove it. There's nothing we can do to force him back. I've had every lawyer we have on it. And even if we could, the chemistry would be shit. So I've decided, we need to cast someone else in the role."

"Do I get a say who?"

"No, you don't. And if you make this one miserable and drive him away, Sam," Bobby growled, "I swear, even if they put me in the chair, I'll kill you."

"Well, that was clear enough," Sam said to the dead phone. He glanced over at the naked man who lay on his stomach on the bed, smiling at him. "Now," Sam said, putting down the phone and climbing on top of him, "back to the business at hand." He popped the top off the lube.

Dean Winchester had just finished playing a supporting role in a miniseries on television. Although it wasn't a huge part, it had gotten him noticed. His agent called him the other day with a few very interesting offers. They'd stopped production last week and he was out of work again so he needed to seriously take a look at them. But when he got the call directly from Bobby Singer's secretary over at Casa Erotica Productions, he let all the others fall by the wayside.

He'd been a fan of Singer's films ever since Up in Arms hit the big screen a few years back, not only because he was a gay man and finally there was something else in between family friendly gay romantic comedy and hard core porn, but because these films were brave, intelligent, and incredibly sexy.

Sam Colt and Nick Haven had the greatest chemistry. They were so damn hot together. Gay men loved them and straight women swooned over them. More than this, they were both great actors. Sam Colt had won an academy award for his role in Still of the Night, a movie about a closeted gay man on the brink of suicide.

Dean had to admit to having a little man crush on Sam Colt, even though his co-star was cute as hell. Sam was a walking wet dream, standing over six feet tall, with thick sable hair, and hazel eyes. Colt had a wicked smile, and when he got naked on screen, or even just took off his shirt, everyone in the theatre would let out a collective moan cause he had an awesome muscular body.

Dean was so excited when the secretary was talking to him over the phone that he had to ask her to repeat the time of his appointment three times. He knew why he was being called to the audition. It was all over the news. Nic Haven had walked out of his contract. The official word from Casa Erotica Productions was that it was a contract dispute and that the split had been amicable. Other sources in the media didn't buy it.

"Why would Nic Haven walk out on Casa Erotica Productions," one talk show host contested, "when it's an actor's dream?"

There was something about another actor walking out as well, and just before they were scheduled to shoot their new film, Clash of Desire.

Dean hardly dared to dream that maybe he'd be auditioning to co-star opposite Sam Colt. He spoke to his agent extensively about it that morning before he headed to the studio. "Do you think that's it? Do you think they might be considering me as a replacement for Nic?

"Could be," his agent, a guy named Eric, told him over the phone. "You never know. You'd be perfect opposite Colt. They want someone handsome and fair-haired to contrast with his dark hair, they may have to lighten your hair a bit, and oh yeah, shorter. Colt doesn't want anyone to be taller than him. You're not, are you?"

"I'm not what?"

"Taller than Sam Colt?"

"I don't think so. I'm six foot exactly."

"He's six three so you should be okay just wear flat heeled shoes, no cowboy boots."

"I'll do anything. I have to get that role in Clash of Desire."

Eric laughed. "I hear he's a total ass to work with and in a foul mood since his co-star dumped him."

How could anyone that gorgeous be difficult? How could Nic Haven have left him? And there was such a thing as compromise, right?

"Oh and, Dean," Eric said, before he hung up, "I'd play down your toppy masculine alpha side if I were you. They need someone a little softer to compliment Colt."

Dean was an hour early for his appointment. He was standing outside the gate when the security guard finally came over and asked him his name. "Dean Winchester. I have an appointment to see Mr. singer." He felt like a total dork.

The security guard checked his list. "There you are. Office opens at eight thirty, sir."

"I'll wait," he said. Usually, he wouldn't have been that eager, arriving that far ahead for his appointment, but this was Casa Erotica Productions, the opportunity of a lifetime, and even if he wasn't given the role, maybe he'd get to meet Sam Colt in the flesh. That alone was worth getting up early for.

The guard opened the gate at the last possible moment, eight thirty on the dot.

Dean nodded and walked through.

"Studio Four," the guard said, "to the right and down three buildings."

"Thanks," Dean said. He had put on his beige summer pants and a navy blue short-sleeved shirt. He left it open at the neck and combed his fair hair back from his forehead, grateful that he didn't cut himself shaving today.

He looked around at the mostly empty lot and found the right door. He rang the buzzer. A second later, the door opened to a long corridor with a variety of offices and conference rooms. There were some people talking and laughing loudly in one room, but he couldn't see who they were.

Suddenly, a woman came out. She was blonde, hourglass figure and large blue eyes. "Mr. Winchester, I'm Nicole Rhodes, the director." She shook his hand briefly

"Dean, please." He hoped his hand wasn't clammy .

"Come with me. Bobby is on the phone. He'll meet us in the studio. I enjoyed your work in The Fall."

"Thank you." Dean answered politely.

"I just got around to seeing it last night actually. I had a tape sent to me, watched all the episodes." She held up her cup. "That's why all the caffeine."

"Can I have someone bring you one?"

"No, thanks." Dean looked around at the technical equipment.

"We're going to have you read then we'll film you a bit, just to get a good feel. We're really cutting corners, trying to get these auditions over with quickly. Mr. Singer is anxious to get started. We're already behind schedule and time is money ."

"Will Sam Colt be here today?"

"We hope not."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that, given his status, he can be a bit..."

"Overbearing?" a voice boomed.

Dean turned around to see the very subject of their conversation walk into the room. God, he was so good looking it hurt. Dean took a breath.

"Sam," Nicole warned, "you know what Bobby said."

"Yes and when have I really given a shit?" He turned to Dean. "Sam Colt, nice to meet you." He didn't offer his hand.

"Likewise," Dean said trying not to stare.

Bobby Singer himself walked into the room, scowling when he saw Sam. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, since it's me who has to get naked with whomever you decide to hire on as my co-star, I figured I should be here to have a look."

Dean tried not to look embarrassed. "Do I pass so far?" he joked flashing a thousand watt grin.

Sam gave him the once over. "You're all right, I guess

Dean's smile disappeared.

"Mr. Winchester," Bobby said, shaking his hand. "Please pretend that Sam isn't here. Lately, I know I do."

Sam laughed. "Don't believe him. He loves me."

Singer placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Here's the script. I'd like you to read the part for Josh, starting here."

"I'll read my part," Sam offered.

"No, you won't," Bobby told him. "Nicole will read it. I don't want you making the kid nervous. You'll go sit down and behave yourself."

Dean smirked as he looked at Sam. "He talks to you like you're a little boy."

Sam didn't seem to appreciate his joke. He went and leaned against the wall in the corner, grumbling.

Oops, Dean thought, but he wanted to laugh. It seemed that Sam Colt didn't like to be ordered around.

"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Winchester," Singer boomed.

Dean glanced at the script. "Ready."

"Okay, let me set the stage for you," Nicole said. "You've been trying to pick up Sam's character in a bar. Sam's character, Tyler, an undercover cop, is trying to keep tabs on one of his suspects when you interrupt him by trying to pick him up. Take it from there."

Dean sidled up to the table in the corner where Nicole was. He was trying to picture Sam standing there. "Hey," he said, smiling, "what 'cha doing?"

"Get lost," Nicole said, her voice monotone.

"Wanna' get lost with me, sexy?"

"Look, do yourself a favor, get out of here."

"I'll make it worth your while."

"Yeah right! Look, I'm not looking for anything like that, so fly!"

"Come on. You look lonely. I can fix that for a nominal fee."

"Move, will you, out of my way. Damn, there he..."

Dean moved as if blocking her way. He smiled seductively. "At least, buy me a drink."

"Cut." Bobby yelled. "Okay. Sam, since you're here, make yourself useful. I've decided that I want a see a scene with the two of you together."

"Now he wants me." Sam sauntered over into the centre of the room, throwing up his hands. He was wearing tight faded blue jeans with some rips and tears here and there, and a light blue muscle shirt.

Dean thought he looked good enough to eat.

"I don't think he's right for it," Sam announced suddenly, looking at Dean.

Dean lowered the script. "Why not?"

"You don't need to ask him," Bobby Singer stood. "He won't be making the decision."

"You can't make me work with someone if I don't want to," Sam told him. "He's not right. He doesn't have the right look."

"What?" Dean protested. "You haven't even given me a chance."

Sam turned and looked at him. "It's not my responsibility to give you anything. You come here, you prove yourself to be the right one for the role, or you don't."

"But I think it's too early to say that I'm not right for this part yet," Dean stood his ground.

"Sam, are you going to audition with him, or not?" Singer demanded, Nicole standing at his elbow. "We'll do it with or without you. Your choice. And Dean, I make the decisions around here, not Sam, so ignore him."

Easier said than done.

Sam grabbed the script from Nicole. "What scene?" he muttered.

"Let's see a kiss," Singer said, backing up again.

Dean swallowed. Kiss? At the moment, he felt like kicking Mr. big shot Colt right up the ass. This was going to take some real acting.

"Camera!" Nicole called out. "Page twenty, boys," she said, "middle of the page. Start, Josh...I remember... You're in Tyler's bedroom and you're already in love with him. He has just told you that you'd have to find a place to stay."

"I remember the way you looked that night I first saw you," Dean began a little nervously, telling himself not to be put off by Sam's caustic attitude. "You were really angry."

"You got in the way of an arrest," Sam said.

"And yet, you gave me a place to stay that night, why?" Dean came closer to him, searching his face.

"Maybe I felt sorry for your ass," he muttered.

"Have I overstayed my welcome. Tyler?" He looked up him. "What if I told you that every time you walk into a room, my heart skips a beat?"

"I'd say you were out of your mind.

"What would you say to this?" He grabbed Sam's face between his hands and pressed his mouth to his, kissing him passionately.

Sam seemed surprised. At first, he stiffened, then he yielded a little.

Dean licked deep inside Sam's mouth tasting him and savoring the kiss.

Sam had never kissed another alpha and having Dean dominate the kiss was one hell of a turn on. Sam was starting to get hard and enjoying letting Dean drive. He moved his hands down Dean's back and grabbed his perfectly shaped ass. Dean made a small sound that was swallowed in Sam's mouth as he pulled Dean firmly against him. The kiss lasted a little too long.

Nicole said, "Cut," twice before Dean and Sam released each other.

Sam looked stunned cause damn, he'd never been owned like that in a kiss before.

After Dean let Sam go, he couldn't contain his amusement. There was the high and mighty, not to mention, gorgeous, Sam Colt, rendered speechless by a single kiss.

Suddenly, Sam snarled, "What in hell are you grinning at?" He made a big show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Dean met Singer's eyes. "So how did we look?"

Singer was peering into the camera playback. "I'd like to see it on the big screen, but from where I sit, fabulous. You guys have got chemistry." He looked up. "I'm going out on a limb here and I'm going to catch all kinds of hell for it, but," he stood, "I want to take a closer look. I think you might be right for this part, kid."

Dean grabbed onto Sam's neck and hugged him. "Fuck, yeah!"

"Get off me," Sam growled, pushing him away and stalking out of the room.

Bobby walked over and shook Dean's hand. "I'd like to tell you he gets better, but..." He shrugged.

Nicole patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"I don't understand why he doesn't like me." Dean sighed.

"Since Nic left, he doesn't much like anyone," Nicole volunteered. "Come on, we'll get you to makeup and wardrobe, and have some more screen tests done."

Bobby Singer was speaking to some of the technical crew now.

Dean followed Nicole. "I read somewhere that Sam and Nic were a couple in real life," Dean mentioned, knowing it was really none of his business, but he figured that anything that was in the tabloids was fair game.

"Hah! Sam doesn't do couples, wishful thinking on Nic's part. Let's say Nic was the guy who got to have him more than once."

"Oh."

"Look, between you and me," she stopped, lowered her voice, "Nic was a sweet guy, but he let Sam walk all over him."

"Is it his temper?"

"No, rather, it's his pants," she replied, "and the fact that he can't seem to keep them on."

Dean lowered his head and smiled. "I see."

Sam leaned on the hood of his red Porsche Carrera GT, on the studio lot and was shooting the breeze a few minutes with Cliff. He was one of the fetch all guys, and he loved to be tied up and fucked on all fours. Sam had had him once, but he wasn't quite interesting enough to do again right now, maybe if he got desperate. The guy had followed him outside a few minutes ago, trying to wrangle a ride home in his car. "Just a ride in the car?" Sam grinned.

"A ride in the car," he murmured seductively, leaning closer, "and maybe at the same time, I can ride that big cock of yours." He placed a hand on his chest. "God, you're hot."

Sam pushed his hand aside. "No one rides any cock in this baby," he said, patting the hood.

"You pamper that car more than you pamper the men you fuck," he gave him a pretend look of sulking.

"When you can go from zero to sixty in 3.9 seconds, and reach up to two hundred and five miles per hour, you'll get the same treatment.

He shook his head.

"Well, Cliff, when you can, let me know and I'll be sure to pamper you in the same way, $44,000 dollars worth of pampering."

"So why you hanging around today?" Cliff said, reaching into the car and running his hand over the leather upholstery. Is it because of your new co-star?"

"He's not my new co-star."

"He's going to be."

"What makes you say that?" "I saw you guys together, kissing, and wow...better than with Nic. That new guy is smoking hot."

Sam sneered. "He's an unknown, wouldn't know acting if it bit him on the ass."

"He was really good in The Fall. I watched it just for him because he is so hot. He was straight in it, a young minister, who ended up marrying the daughter of..."

Sam held up his hand. "Nic will change his mind. He'll come back."

"I doubt it."

"What the hell would you know?" he scoffed, walking around to the driver's side and getting in.

"I know,' Cliff said coming around and leaning into the car, face close to his. "I'm addicted to your cock and you shouldn't deny me my fix. Please. Sam, take me home. I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Sam started the engine. "Not this time."

Cliff straightened and sighed.

Sam was just about to drive away when he spotted that Dean guy. He was standing outside of Studio Four talking to one of the cameramen. He looked right at him and smiled. Sam put his foot to the gas and roared around the corner.

Tom, an older man in his fifties, shook his head, while lighting his cigarette. "I'm afraid our Sam is not always Mr. Congeniality."

"I've noticed. And wow, what a car." He took the cigarette Tom offered, with a thank you, and lit it with Tom's lighter. For the most part, he'd given up the nasty habit of smoking. He hadn't bought a pack in two years, but when he was really stressed, he had a habit of bumming. And this was definitely one of those occasions.

"Yep. It sure is. He loves that car," Tom commented, "treats it better than his boyfriends, that's for sure."

"So, ah, how many boyfriends does Sam have exactly?"

Tom shook his head. "Who knows? They come and go. Poor Nic couldn't keep up. Sam broke his heart over and over, until Nic had had enough I guess. Anyway, at least you're safe.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you mean because he seemed to take an instant dislike to me?"

"Not just that, you're too...well...how can I say this without offending everyone? Sam likes guys like Nic, not what we'd call butch exactly. And you're more like a guy."

"I get it," Dean said, laughing. "And I am gay, by the way, and I'm not offended. We all know that gay men are as diverse as straight men. What you're telling me is that Sam is an alpha male, and he likes his men a little more submissive"

"That was good." Tom laughed. "Anyway, you get the picture."

"I'm safe," Dean repeated, looking off in the distance, but for some reason that didn't exactly thrill him. He wasn't Sam Colt's type. Well, he'd just have to live with that. He wasn't here to fill Sam's bed. He was here to fill a role, if he got it.

Dean didn't have time to worry about Sam Colt anyway. He still had a whole lot of stuff to do today in the studio, and he heard people say inside that they had auditioned a few others already for the role. It wasn't his yet, but he felt it was within reach.

Sam was staring at the two blond beauties. One of them was lounging on his back in the pool, playing with his own cock, and the other was gazing at him longingly from where he lay stretched out naked on the diving board.

Sam loved to watch them for a while before touching them. It got them all worked up and ready to do just about anything he wanted. He'd been sitting here in a lounge chair beside his heated, indoor pool since eleven o'clock. It was now after midnight. He'd invited the two young men that he'd picked up at one of the local night clubs back to his house for a swim in the pool, among other things, but he would take his time.

When they had arrived at the house, he had instructed them to take off their clothes and go for a swim. He made a pitcher of margaritas and settled down on the lounge chair, still dressed in his black leather pants, and expensive, silk shirt in a stunning shade of royal blue. It had been a gift from Nic and it was still his favorite. Every time he put it on, Nic would get so horny they'd never end up going out.

Tonight he wore it to an upscale club where all the celebrities went, gay, straight, and everything in between could be found there. What he found were twins, beautiful, blue eyed, blond angels with perfectly toned, smooth bodies and an eagerness to please.

"Keep playing with your cock," Sam said now, licking his lips as the one in the pool stroked himself nice and slow, his cock standing at an angle.

He moaned. "I'm so hard. Please."

Sam glanced over at his brother. He couldn't tell them apart really, but that wasn't important. "You're not as hard as your brother. Come on." Sam undid his pants now and unzipped them.

The blond beauties were watching.

Sam slipped his hand inside and took out his prick. He held it up like an offering. "You, in the pool," he said, "come over here."

The blond adonis scrambled out of the pool, while the other one went up on his elbow, looking over at Sam with longing. "What about me?"

"You'll get your turn," he said. He smiled up at the other, who stood there, dripping wet.

"What do you want me to do? I'll do anything. Please."

Sam smiled. "Undo my shirt."

Wet fingers undid the buttons on his shirt, his hands shaking a little. Sam could hear his heavy breathing.

"Spread it open. Now," Sam told him, stroking his own cock, "I want you to play with my nipples, suck on them, lick them, and if you make them hard enough, I'll let you taste this." He indicated his penis.

The beauty went to his knees immediately. A kitteny sound of need escaped him making Sam smile smugly.

Determined lips pressed against Sam's chest, a chest he spent hours a week perfecting, toned, muscular, bronzed, and smooth, and then began to quite expertly stimulate his left nipple. Sam looked over at the other who was actually pouting quite prettily. "You want the other side?"

The other beauty nodded, smiling, and raced off the diving board to kneel on the other side of him. The twins were going to town.

His nipples were as hard as rock, and he had no choice, or maybe, it was that he had no willpower. His prick was in their hands, their mouths, and eventually, as they both knelt on their hands and knees in front of him, anxious to be rewarded for their efforts, in their asses.

As they dressed and prepared to leave so that Sam could get some much needed sleep, he asked, "Do you guys do everything together all the time?"

"Yes," they answered simultaneously in their soft, silky voices as they winked saucily at him and walked away holding hands.

Sam shook his head and laughed. He would definitely hook up with the twins again.

Dean didn't really want Cas to stay the night. He kept watching the clock, making remarks about how it was late and how he needed to sleep. Cas moved over on the sofa and sat down beside him, placing a hand on his thigh. "Poor baby, let's go to bed. I'll give you a nice massage."

"No, I really want to sleep, Cas," Dean said. He'd been seeing Cas off and on now for a few months, but although he liked him, their relationship was going nowhere. The problem was that Cas seemed to have imprinted on him in some way and Dean hated to hurt his feelings.

They'd worked together on The Fall. Cas was one of the scriptwriters, and he was really talented. He was good looking, too, ebony black hair and striking blue eyes, and wild in bed. But he was just a little too co-dependent for Dean's taste. He'd already started talking about exclusivity and living together.

"I don't understand why Sam Colt wouldn't like you," Cas mused.

Dean had mentioned it to Cas, more than a few times that evening. More than anything that had happened that day, this bugged him. Although Singer said that Sam wasn't the one who would decide who got the role, Dean wasn't naïve enough to think that Sam didn't have some input. He was the star, and surely, if he stomped his foot hard enough, they'd listen.

"Do you have any idea who the other contenders are?" Cas asked, his hand still on Dean's thigh.

Dean moved a little, which caused his hand to slide off. He knew it seemed unbelievable, given how he loved sex, but he wasn't in the mood tonight.

"Cas," Dean said, "I really want to sleep alone tonight."

"You don't want to fuck?"

Dean sighed. The frank disbelief in Cas's voice, reconfirmed what he already knew about himself. He didn't like to sleep alone and he had a libido which was on permanent overdrive so why was he turning down a booty call?

"Not tonight, okay?" He stood. Right now, sex was the last thing on his mind. He needed to be alone, to think about his day, and try to pick up on any clues he might have gotten. This...call you in a couple of weeks, was torture, but he knew he'd just have to wait.

Thankfully, Cas was walking to the door. "Call me," he said.

"Cas," Dean said, "I know you're trying to help. Thanks for listening to me vent tonight, you're a good friend. I'll call you."

"Dean," he said, looking at him with intense blue eyes, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Dean swallowed. "Oh. Cas, I'm sure it will pass." That was a horrible thing to say. "I mean..." The door closed, Cas was gone.

"Damn!" he growled, slapping his forehead. "What did I say that?" Could this day get any worse? Day? What was he talking, day? It was five in the morning, the sun was coming up. He groaned, suddenly a flicker of memory somewhere in his brain made him race to the calendar on the wall and check the date.

"Dammit!" he cried out. He had a commercial to do today, something he'd committed to months ago. He was supposed to be there at nine o'clock. He was going to look like reconstituted shit!

"I want you to see them," Bobby was saying.

Sam waved at his housekeeper to take his plate away. Too many carbs. And where in the hell was the fruit? "What, did they run out of fruit at the market?" he asked her, his hand over the receiver. "Make me a fruit drink in the blender."

"Yes, sir," she said, and walked off.

"Sorry, what?" Sam asked.

"Damn it, Sam, how many times do I have to repeat myself? I want you to come into the studio and take a look at them on the big screen."

"Why? You've already decided. You know who I prefer, that blond guy who played the young cowboy in that flick about the gold rush last year." Actually, if he had his way, it wouldn't be either one of them.

"I think Dean Winchester is better. We've narrowed it down to him and Chace."

"Winchester is too tall and his hair is too dark."

"Sam, for Christ's sakes. You're grasping at straws. The hair can be taken care of if it's a problem. He's the better actor and you look really hot together. Chace looks like a boy standing next to you. If you hug him too tight, you'd break him in two."

"So you've decided, you don't need me."

Sonia brought the fruit drink and sat it down in front of him with a clunk. Obviously, she wasn't happy with him either.

"I want you to be there. I'm being pressured to start production, Sam. We can't afford to make a mistake. Just come in, okay?" He hung up.

Sam put down the phone. He looked at the fruit drink. Sonia had put a little umbrella in it. He made a face and took it out. "Sonia," he called, taking a sip, noticing that one of the twins had left his watch behind.

She walked in the poolroom where he was sitting on his lounge chair.

"Yes, Mr. Colt," she looked at him.

"The drink is good." He smiled.

She smiled back. "Thank you, Mr. Colt."

"Why don't you have one yourself?"

"I already did," she said, sticking up her head and walking off.

Sam laughed and shook his head. He knew there was a reason he hired her.

An hour later, he walked into Bobby's office. Bobby looked up from his desk and shook his head. "There he is. You decided to grace us with your presence. What is it, almost noon?"

"Take me to lunch."

"We'll order in," Singer said, standing. He picked up his phone. "Set up the screen test play backs in the screening room. We're coming."

"My stomach is growling. I think Sonia may be right. I need more carbs or at least some protein in the morning."

Singer passed him a look. "Protein, I'm sure you get enough of."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You have a dirty mind."

Bobby placed a hand on his back as they walked down the corridor. "You've rubbed off on me. And as for carbs and whatever, I can't tell the difference."

"And it shows," Sm snarked, glancing at Bobby's girth.

Bobby laughed. "It's called good living and one woman who loves you. You don't have to impress anyone anymore."

Sam shook his head and laughed. "I'll remember that."

"You have to look good in front of the camera, so keep doing whatever it is that you do."

"Yes, Captain," he said, walking into the screening room. Nicole was there. She blew him a kiss.

"What? Everyone loves me today? Don't think I don't know what this is all about."

Nicole took him by the arm as Bobby sat down in the front seat. She hugged him and led him into a seat beside her. "Just keep an open mind."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

Bobby shouted, "Let her roll."

Sam sat back, watching the tapes of Chace. He was an angelic looking boy, hopelessly blond and sweet. And he was very submissive in bed, too. Chace wouldn't give him any trouble. He watched the scene they'd done together. The kiss was nice, although he did have to bend down to kiss him. Chace was a lot shorter than he was. "What is he, five nine?" Sam asked Nicole.

"On a good day," she said.

"Okay," Bobby said, turning to look at Sam, "here's Dean's."

Sam sighed, folded his arms across his chest. Nicole pulled them apart.

He was clearly the better actor. And even though Dean had taken him by surprise with that kiss, Sam was surprised at his own response. He looked like he was enjoying it.

After that, there were a few shots of Dean from different angles, with his shirt off, and then totally naked, one hand covering his genitals. They didn't do cock shots, just asses, and his was...oh yeah. "Guess he'll be doing his own ass shots, we won't need a double?"

"Unless he requests it," Bobby said.

Nicole actually giggled, and she wasn't a giggler. "Impressive, eh?"

"So," Bobby said, making a signal for them to shut off the screen, "am I right?"

Sam leaned forward. "Bobby, I'm afraid that Dean Winchester is a little too much like me."

"Meaning you won't be able to wrap him around your little finger like you did Nic." Bobby cleared his throat.

"No, not that. Maybe there's not enough of a contrast between us. You know how the public is, they like roles, even with two men and..."

"I know what it is," Nicole said, clapping her hands. "You're afraid to lose your dominant position in the couple. You don't want to look like the girl," she teased.

Sam threw her a dirty look. "That's not it."

"I think it is." Bobby was laughing, as he struggled up out of his seat. "Guess you'll have to work harder at your masculine allure there, Sam."

Sam snarled.

Nicole laughed, kissing his cheek. "We might have an alpha war on our hands."

"Ha, you're hilarious," Sam said, pushing her away.

"I love the smell of testosterone in the air," Nicole sang out, standing.

"So," Bobby said, stopping in the aisle and looking at his star. "You going to give me grief?"

"If you want Dean Winchester, hire him," Sam pursed his lips and looked straight ahead.

"I'll have the studio call him right away," Bobby said.

Dean couldn't believe it when he got the call. It was some representative of the studio calling, saying that he was Bobby Singer's personal assistant.

"Mr. Winchester," he said, "I'm very pleased to tell you that you have the role of Josh in the production of Clash of Desire, co-starring Sam Colt.

Dean gripped the phone, doing a little dance at the same time, trying not to scream. "Thank you very much," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"It's all right, Mr. Winchester," the voice on the other end, laced with humor, said, "you can holler if you want."

"Holy shit!"

There was laughter. "You need to be on set next Monday morning. Mr. Singer would appreciate it if you could come in sometime this week to sign the contracts."

"I'll be there today."

"Actually tomorrow morning would be better." "Tomorrow morning. What time?"

"Ten o'clock."

"See you," Dean said, and hung up. He whooped and hollered another time, probably frightening his neighbors, then he got on the phone and told everyone he knew.

Sam was at a party that night. There were a lot of film people there and actors, along with select members of the press. Sam stood on the balcony, drinking a glass of wine, talking to Brad Culver, a member of the Press who was trying to pump him for information.

"Come on, Sam, darling," he moved close to his ear, "give me something. You won't let me have your incredible ass, so take pity."

Sam laughed and moved away from him. "I don't know anything." He was told to keep everything under wraps until Dean Winchester signed the contracts. "And I don't let anyone fuck me."

"You must know something. Oh, and Chace is here, and he's looking at you as if he wants to eat you."

Sam turned and glanced through the window. Chace waved at him. Sam lifted a hand and turned his back again.

"You can't tell me that fucking the star doesn't help in getting you the job?" Brad chortled. "And poor Chace, having to work so hard," he winked.

Sam turned to Brad and gave him a faint smile. "I don't know anything, Brad."

"You beautiful men, so empty headed."

"That's us," he said. "Gorgeous morons. Now, go and pump someone else for information. You'll know, when it comes out on the six o'clock news."

"Oh, that was low," Brad called after him as Sam walked back inside.

"Hey, Sam," Chace came walking over to him. He looked so sweet, that soft little mouth of his so vulnerable, and not very big. It had been a real effort to get that mouth open wide enough to take all of his prick in. But it had been worth it in the end. This kid could suck cock when he put his mind to it, and his ass was incredibly tight. Probably wouldn't be in a few years.

"Hey," Sam greeted him. "How you doing?"

"I haven't heard anything from the studio. You'd think they'd have called me by now. I heard from the grapevine that production starts Monday. You know anything?"

He shook his head and looked around. "No." Sam hated lying to him, but what could he do? He was sworn to secrecy.

Chace ran his gaze over him. "You look hot tonight. Then again, you look hot every night."

There were three young men eyeing him a few feet away. One of them was deliberately grabbing his crotch.

Sam laughed a little and turned back to Chase. "Did you say something?"

"I said, take me home. I'd love to swim in your pool."

"You'd love to be in my next movie, too, wouldn't you, Chace?"

Chace met his eyes. "Of course I would, to be close to you, to kiss you on screen and off. You remember how you had me last time, you fucked me so hard, I thought you were coming through my teeth. No one ever to took possession of me like that before."

"So it's all about me, is it?" Sam reached out and touched his cheek.

"Of course."

Sam laughed and stepped back. "Chace, I wasn't born yesterday. We had a good time, but it wasn't all about me and the way I fuck. I'm afraid I'm busy tonight," he said, glancing over at the hottie nearby who had a passing resemblance to Nic. Chace faded into the background.

The guy sauntered over to him now. "Hey," he said, looking into Sam's eyes. "You're Sam Colt."

"Thank you for telling me who I am, now who are you?"

"My name is Phil, and ah," he leaned in and whispered against his ear, "I'm dying to suck your cock."

"Is that so?" Sam laughed, taking him by the elbow. "How about we go upstairs," he glanced up the big staircase, "and you tell me more about that?" He'd quite forgotten now which star owned this house, but he was on the guest list, so he guessed he could use the guest bedroom.

Sam started climbing the stairs, passing a few people he recognized on the way. By the time they got to the top of the stairs, Phil was fumbling with Sam's zipper. "Whoa," Sam said, "not so fast." They walked down the hallway, and Sam opened one of the doors and looked inside. No one. He motioned to the guy, who was like a salivating puppy at his side, and they went inside.

Sam put a finger to his lips and slipped his zipper down. He popped out his cock and placed a hand on the guy's shoulder. "Get down there and go to work," he said.

The guy laughed. "My pleasure, Mr. Colt."

Sam put a hand in his hair, then removed it. It was full of hair gel or something. Yuck. Stiff as hell. He rubbed his hand over his flank and made a face. The guy was clearly no champion at cock sucking, but he was giving it the old college try

Sam was growing frustrated. "Look, I can't be in here all night, Bill."

"Phil," he muttered

"Okay, right. Move off, easy, I'd like to keep it." He pulled him to his feet and felt in his pocket. He found one stray condom, maybe left over from new years. "Take your pants down."

"You going to fuck me?"

"Any objection?"

"God, no," he started taking his pants down. "Me getting fucked by Sam Colt is a fantasy come true."

Sam regretted sending Chace away, even if he was a brown noser extraordinaire. This guy's cock was a terrible disappointment and Sam suspected he would be a lousy lay. "How do you like it?"

"Hard and on my knees."

"Suits me. Get on your knees."

Sam took his pants down and laid them on the bed, stepping over this guy's clothes on the way. He knelt, got into position, slipped on the condom, and did the polite thing of reaching around and fondling Phil's erection for a few minutes. That was responded to by some over enthusiastic moaning.

Oh, come on. When he grabbed his hips and placed the tip of his cock at the guy's entrance, his partner screamed so loudly that Sam was startled. He almost lost his erection, not to mention his hearing. "I'm not even in yet," he muttered. "And could you keep it down. I really don't want an audience."

"But you're Sam Colt."

Sam wished he'd stop telling him who in the hell he was.

"When you used to fuck Nic on screen, I'd masturbate."

Now, there was an image. He closed his eyes. "Would you mind not talking?"

He kept talking the entire time and when he wasn't talking, he was screaming. It sounded like a cat in heat actually, and it didn't really make Sam feel sexy.

When Sam had come, he pulled out and stood, his prick on automatic, and thankfully not listening to his brain, which was saying what are you doing with this guy? He pulled on his pants, suddenly noticing that the guy was standing there, gawking at him with this stupid grin on his face.

"Will you marry me?"

"No," Sam said immediately.

"I could get used to you fucking me like that for the rest of my life."

Oh my God. "It wasn't very good,"

Phil put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, sweetie. You were great."

"Not me, Jesus Christ," Sam snapped, "you. You weren't very good."

"I know I'm not Nic. He was lovely, and I'm sure you won't get over him soon. But I can try to be. I'll dress like him, if you want, wear my hair the same."

Sam reached for the door, looking at him. "I think you already did that." A shudder ran through him. Shit? Did he just fuck Nic's evil clone?

"I'll cherish this forever," Phil said, on the way down the stairs. He was still doing up his pants.

"Good, now go away," Sam said. He turned the corner, paused to speak to a few people, then ran into Brad again. "No," he said, before Brad could speak.

"You don't even know what I was going to say ."

"Brad, I'm not fucking you, and you're certainly not fucking me. It would be in the headlines tomorrow."

"You don't know what you're missing," Brad told him.

Sam moved in the direction of the door. "I'll risk it."

Brad followed. "So, is he tall, dark and handsome, or a sweet little blond twink, like that one over there, trying to find a nice comfortable cock to fit his empty little..."

Sam put up a hand. "You'll find out tomorrow."

"What would it hurt for you to give me an exclusive?" Brad demanded, still with him as Sam handed the parking valet his key.

Sam turned and looked at him. "What, are we attached at the hip?"

"A hint?"

"Okay," Sam said, with a smug smile, as the valet pulled his car up to the curb, "here's your hint," he walked around the car and got in.

Brad came closer, listening intently.

"He's an actor." Sam threw back his head and laughed, then roared off, watching Brad throw up his hands in frustration.