When I Saw You

AN: This story was written as a short for the Goodreads MM Romance Group's LHNB event this summer based on a prompt and some drool-worthy images of the naked male form, including one with a lovely tan line. I hope you enjoy the story too.

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Who wouldn't enjoy taking pictures of handsome men with their clothes on... and off? Well, maybe a straight man. Of course, I make a good living because I love what I do. Balian Alexander is not a household name by any means, but for those who enjoy a special type of photography, I'm quite well known. The human body can be very beautiful when captured through a lens, and in my mind, there's nothing more breathtaking than a hot man stripped down to his skin.

After finishing my last project overseas, I'd gotten an invitation to a gallery back home doing a show highlighting movement. The idea of a college sports shoot struck me as the perfect vehicle to expose the bodies of active young men in motion.

Mental images of capturing a shirtless soccer player midkick, or a swimmer surging out of the pool, had me speaking very sternly to my dick. There were a few students around the quad still, enjoying the balmy late afternoon, and playing Frisbee. Their lean bodies were shining with sweat and one in particular caught my eye when he dove to the ground and rolled, his arm outstretched as he reached and snagged the fluorescent-green disk out of the air by his fingertips. His arms were ripped, but not bulging with muscle, and he was laughing as he came up and flung the Frisbee in a smooth arc back to his friend.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was facing away from me when he stood up, and his shorts pulled tight around his ass as he brushed some grass off his knees. My fingers curved at my sides in a subconscious desire to touch. I caught my breath when he stood up and turned around. He had a phenomenal body topped off by a chiseled jaw, strong nose, and wide eyes. Perfect.

Damn, I was going to have to be more careful with my ogling. Most college guys wouldn't want to know the photographer was looking at them with anything less than professionalism when they were posing with their clothes half off. This college had way more hot guys per capita than mine had.

Seeing that kind of arousal from a man looking at them could scare some of the skittish ones off, but with a certain sort... it could lead to all sorts of other shoots.

"Hey, Balian! Long time no see." I finally caught sight of the hulking behemoth hidden among the college students milling around. "You made it on time for once." Cort, my best friend and once roommate in college, rushed over and pulled me into a hug. He squeezed my ribs and pounded on my shoulder. I winced at the hearty buffeting.

Ouch. "Damn man, you should lay off the weight room." I rotated my shoulder, making an exaggerated expression of pain. "How am I supposed to carry photo equipment if you cripple me?"

Cort laughed. "Oh give it up. I can see that you're not letting yourself go either."

I shrugged. I'd admit to a certain level of vanity. Beauty caught my eye; masculine or feminine, I enjoyed seeing people who took care of their bodies. Working out was a pain in the ass, literally on cardio days when I jogged, but my own appearance was a source of pride.

"I never understood why you weren't in front of the camera instead of behind it," Cort said. "I bet you could sell thousands of books if you put yourself on the cover like you did that muscle guy in your last one."

I smiled. "Enrique was perfect for the service men and women edition I did. I don't think that guy had an ounce of fat on him anywhere." Except for his fat cock. He'd posed for me in his dog tags and a tight pair of boxer briefs and that thick ridge had thrown an impressive shadow when he'd leaned back against the camo Humvee I'd managed to score for the shoot. He'd belonged on the cover.

"Besides, I never wanted to model. I like to look, not be looked at." I dug my elbow into Cort's side. "And you told me that you had several guys interested in working with me on this project, right?"

Cort nodded. "Yeah, let's go to my office." I glanced back one last time as we headed across the long grassy lawn toward a brick building next to a huge gym. The word pool was emblazoned in white on the side with an arrow. I barely managed to keep from licking my lips. Swimmers were my eye candy du jour. I had a definite thing for jocks, but those guys ran around in tiny little Speedos with their bodies all shaved. Smooth skin, lots of it, with water running down in thin streams...

"Tell me you talked to the swim team and I got at least one taker."

"You still got a thing for them, huh?"

"Maybe."

Cort smirked. "Uh huh, just maybe?"

"Maybe a little."

He raised an eyebrow. "A little?"

I blew out a breath, jerking my hand through my hair, which was already starting to curl. It was humid in the offices this close to the pool and I could smell the chlorine in the air. Giving each other a hard time was our customary routine. It was nice it hadn't changed.

"What's with the inquisition? Damn! Okay, fine, a big thing for them." Dropping a hand down to my jeans, I cupped my package and winked at him. "You should know; we did share a dorm room. You teased me enough about that poster of Finchum."

"Like I was looking at your cock when you were staring at it. I'm not gay, man... the only thing I noticed was how much you were drooling after me."

"Wow, your mind must be going then 'cause that sure as shit never happened." We both laughed. Cort was a great friend, and we'd roomed together junior and senior years of college. He'd gotten his sports education degree while I'd gone for photo journalism. He'd played football, being a giant bruiser of a man, and now he was a defensive coordinator. While I loved to see muscles ripple when I was with a man, I had a definite taste for young and slim.

Not those tiny twinks, their bodies waifish with eyeliner and scarves, though I had nothing against them. No, my type was the solid, muscular type. Swimmers and gymnasts especially turned my crank. Male beach volleyball players were awfully hot too, but they tended to be a bit tall for my liking.

"Okay, okay, enough revisiting our cocky college personas. It's good to see you, Balian. It's been too long since you've stuck around for any length of time. You're always off photographing the world."

"I missed you too. It's been what, a year and a half since you got married?" Cort nodded. "How is Amanda anyway?"

"She's good. We're uh," Cort rubbed his neck but he was grinning again, a wide, proud smile, "We're gonna have a baby."

"Oh wow, man! When did you find out?" That required more hugs and more back pounding.

"The doctor said Amanda is due in October." We dropped back down in our chairs. Cort was grinning like a maniac, his cheeks a bit flushed. I was really happy for Cort. He'd met an awesome woman and now they were starting a family. Somewhere in the last few years, we'd become real adults.

It was hard to picture Cort as a daddy though. Too many drunken parties during off seasons and sorority girls leaving his room in our suite had colored my impressions of him.

"Well congratulations."

"What about you? Any special man in your life?" Cort had always known I was gay. It hadn't been a secret from the first day I set foot on campus. I was too big to bully and I didn't care about what any bigots thought. I'd heard a lot of crap from people, but eventually the idiots running their mouths learned the lesson that the world wasn't the tiny little microcosm they'd known in high school and grew up. I'd had plenty of dates myself in college. Senior year I'd had a boyfriend for nearly nine months before graduation came and we'd parted ways as friends.

"I'm too busy to worry about dating."

"And too busy fucking any guy you can get to strip down and pose for you, in and out of bed, right?"

Cort and I had kept in touch via Facebook, and granted, some of the pictures on there were suggestive. "Hey, I can't help that I'm such a stud." I hadn't actually slept with any of my subjects in a long time. Things had changed. I was twenty-six, a lot of my friends were married and apparently starting families. Settling down had begun to hold more appeal, but I'd created this image of the perfect guy for me and I'd yet to meet him. He probably didn't exist, but I wanted— I needed— him.

I might have been more of a romantic than I let on too. Just because I was gay didn't mean I hadn't fallen into the stereotype of having to be seen as the macho man. Apparently being around Cort had brought some of my bluster back.

"Well, stud, you promised me this wouldn't be that kind of shoot, right? I can't have any of my athletes volunteering if they're going to lose their place at school due to the morality clause. No nude photos, especially in any environment on school grounds."

"I understand. I do more than erotic photography, you know. I told you, the gallery is doing a mixed media show featuring men in sports and they wanted to use some of my work in their photography exhibit. I need some guys to pose. I'm thinking swimmers in their Speedos would be as risqué as it got, all right?"

"Coach says whatever the attire and setting the guys are comfortable with, within that limit, is fine by the college then. He checked with the general counsel, just to make sure."

I relaxed into my chair. "Great. I can't say how much I appreciate your help with this. Do you mind if I use your office to interview the guys who volunteered?" I needed to meet all of them and it helped to put them at ease if our first meeting didn't happen when they were expected to pose for me. I'd found it took a lot of tension out of the situation, plus I planned better when I saw my models in person.

"Sure. I need to go to a doctor's appointment with Amanda tomorrow, so my office is your office." Cort stood up and rubbed his hands together. "Now, she told me to bring you home for dinner or else. She's making lasagna."

"Homemade?" My mouth watered. I loved homemade lasagna, but I couldn't cook for shit. "I'm so there."

****

I put my camera down on the desk along with a portfolio of some of my work. I'd already finished my coffee, having desperately needed the caffeine to wake me up, and I chucked the empty cup in the garbage. The locker room smelled like chlorine plus a musk of dirty towels, dripping faucets, and sweaty men. I'd played sports through high school but wasn't good enough to earn a spot on a college team. Every gym had locker rooms though, and I'd spent a lot of time working out to keep my body in shape, enough that my polo shirt was tight around the muscles of my shoulders and biceps and loose around my trim waist.

Amanda had fed me well the night before and sent me home with leftovers. Her lasagna was probably going to require at least two hours of running, but I'd do it later. A knock at the door made me look up.

"Oh nice," I said under my breath. It must not have been quiet enough because the guy leaned against the metal doorway, posing casually.

"You like?" He slid a hand through his strawberry-blond hair that hung in loose curls down over his eyes, pushing it back. He had blue eyes and pale skin, with just a dusting of freckles over the bridge of his upturned nose. He had a solid torso with thick thighs not hidden at all by his jeans and tank top, all boy next door. I could see him now, partially crouched, the bat a long extension of his hands as he swung. I definitely liked.

"Come on in." He had a bit of a farmer's tan going on around his neck that exposed a large part of his neck and shoulders. I gestured toward a chair. "Baseball player, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" He came and sprawled into one of the two chairs in front of Cort's desk. "By the way, I'm Sammy Mocone, Mr. Alexander."

"Nice to meet you. You can call me Balian. I'm not into formalities. And I know athletes, I guess. It's all in the details." I waved a hand at his chest. "Your tan line gave you away. Lacrosse guys wear pads, so even though their uniforms have a V-neck, they don't have so much skin exposed. Track guys usually wear tank tops and swimmers wear next to nothing at all. You don't look like a golf or tennis player."

"Wow, I never really thought of something as small as a tan from a uniform telling someone so much. You learn all that from being a photographer?"

I grabbed my portfolio. I sat in the chair next to his so I could point out different elements of the pictures as he flicked through the leather binder. "Photography is about seeing the subject. It's not always about the perfect shot, but it is about finding the right perspective to share what makes the subject stand out."

Sammy looked up at me. "So how would you take my picture? Coach Stivens said you wanted action shots, right?"

"Exactly. I'm looking to photograph college athletes but I want movement shots, not portraits." This was where it could get a bit more than some of the guys could handle. "Though you wouldn't necessarily be dressed like you would to actually play. I want to show the musculature of your bodies as you move."

Sammy listened when I talked to him about showing off his chest and stomach and didn't seem to be put off by the idea. "Would I wear my school uniform?"

"No," I shook my head, "I don't want the school colors. I plan to get some uniforms after we finish the interviews for the athletes who agree to pose. I think white pants and a blue jersey for you." Dark blue would set off his ice blue eyes and pale skin. That rust orange and dull gray of the school uniform was not going to be in my shoot, not a chance in hell. "So what do you think? You in?"

"We get paid?"

"Two hundred, at the conclusion of the shoot, and I'll make a copy of the prints for you."

"Sweet." Sammy's eyes lit up.

My next two interviews were just as productive. I had a baseball player, a field hockey guy, and a runner all agree to pose for me. The runner had dark skin that gleamed under the indoor lights. I couldn't wait to see how the pictures I got would look on the screen; under natural light his skin would look like mahogany silk. My growling stomach heralded lunch. The sub I'd picked up at the store was in Cort's small refrigerator in the corner of his cluttered office. It was the same one he'd had in his dorm room when we were still in college. I snorted when I saw the sticker of the naked chick's silhouette on the side partially torn off.

I could use a little fresh air, so I went outside. The lawn was a lot busier during the middle of the day with college kids everywhere.

I sat under the shade of a large elm tree to beat the heat creating shimmering waves in the air so I could people watch in comfort. These guys weren't that much younger than me, at least the seniors weren't, but it felt like being dropped back into a whole different world when seen with the eyes of an outsider. Instead of making me feel younger, I felt older. I sat there picking at my spinach, pulling off leaves and eating them plain as I watched everyone bustle about. There were a few study groups leaning over books, some people eating lunch like I was, and a few couples snuggling together on the soft grass.

The guy who'd made that impressive Frisbee catch the day before was back. Today they were playing shirtless. Those strong arms were attached to a nice chest, with rounded pecs and small brown nipples, tapering down to a lean waist. The muscles on his sides pointed straight down into his loose athletic shorts that couldn't hide a taut ass that swelled round and firm. He was gorgeous, and the way he moved... it was smooth, like he was gliding through the air. He could have been a statue brought to life with that bronze skin.

All through the evening before, flashes of him moving had distracted me from my visit with Cort and Amanda. It'd been ages since I'd wanted someone like I wanted him. I'd regretted not taking the time to go talk to him. The need to touch him had not gone away, and now that I saw him again I was just as drawn to him. He looked happy, and there was something about him that made me want to be the one making him that happy. I'd dreamed of kneeling between his thighs as he sprawled out on my bed, caressing and touching those round cheeks, turning the younger man into a ball of need.

I would turn that dream into reality, if there was any possible way and he showed even a glimmer of interest. I'd settle for him in my portfolio, if I couldn't get him any other way.

Crumpling up the paper from my sandwich, I jogged over to the garbage. A glance at my watch showed I had twenty minutes left before I needed to head back to Cort's office. I pulled out my wallet and grabbed a business card.

"Hey, can I borrow your pen?" The girl looked up at me in surprise, but when I smiled at her, she blushed and held up the blue ballpoint she was using to doodle with.

"Sure."

I scribbled on the back of the card and then handed it back. I turned around and then stopped. Looking back over my shoulder, I caught her frowning. "Thanks for letting me use your pen."

"You're welcome," she said slowly.

I headed over toward the Frisbee guys. Patience wasn't my strong suit, but I managed to wait until the tanned temptation flubbed a throw and sent his partner jogging off, chasing the disk as it rolled away. "Hey!" I called out to him. "Can I talk to you a second?"

The guy looked up from where he was grabbing a bottle of water out of the side pocket of his backpack. "Uh..."

"My name is Balian Alexander. I'm doing a photo shoot here with athletes from the school, and I was wondering if you would be interested. I didn't think about showing off a Frisbee player before, but with that physique," I let my eyes drift up and down his body, "and your coloring, I couldn't pass up at least asking you if you'd be willing to be a subject."

He cocked his head to one side as he looked up at me. His hair was barely more than a soft fuzz on his head but the blond locks were streaked nearly white. He must spend a lot of time in the sun.

"You want to take my picture?"

I nodded. "I do. I've permission from the college and the coaches to ask the athletes who are interested. I'll be paying for your time. I'm offering two hundred dollars plus copies of the prints." Leaning closer to him, I held out my card. My nostrils flared, picking up the spicy scent of his cologne, but I also smelled chlorine. It was warm enough, maybe he'd been swimming earlier.

Oh, now I'd have a new fantasy with him. I made a mental note to make sure there was a spare set of sheets in the linen closet. "You can ask the coaches if you like, so you know I'm not some random weirdo. Or some of the athletes. I've already met with three who agreed to be a part of my show."

Long fingers took the card from me. He studied my information on the front then flipped the card over and read the back. "Five o'clock?"

"That's when I'm done with my scheduled interviews. I'm working out of Coach Stivens's office today to meet with the athletes interested in modeling. I'd love to have you stop by so I can take some test shots and talk to you more." I held my breath, hoping he'd say yes. The more I looked at him, the more I saw how perfect he was. My dreams of him hadn't done him justice.

"Okay."

I let out my trapped breath with a whoosh, grinning at him. "Great. Okay. So, I'll see you at five." My phone beeped. Damn, lunch was over already. "I have to go; I'm expecting a swimmer, a thrower, and a wrestler this afternoon."

"Thanks for coming over, I guess." He smiled at me and my dick stirred. He had a gorgeous smile; his nice plump lips pulling back to frame even white teeth. They weren't pink; he was shades of bronze and brown all over, even his eyes looked like toffee. "Oh, my name is Paul." He held out one of those hands with their long, lean fingers. I didn't feel sparks when we touched for the first time but if crap like that was real, I would have.