ONE MORE TIME - brallon drabbles

it's not just for the camera now

!!REPOST!!

//Brendon is a glamor model. He loves the attention and posing for the camera. When an unheard before photographer is going to photograph him and Brendon decides to a little research, Brendon wants more than the photographer to just take photos of him.//

•••

"Who?"

"Dallon Weekes, we're having a shoot with him in two days. All of his information is in the email I sent you recently. " His boss, Spencer Smith reminded once more.

"Right, him, alright, time?" Brendon asks again.

"Twelve."

"Gotcha. See you later, Spencer!"

"Have a nice day, Brendon." Spencer hung up on him. Brendon was sitting in his bedroom, laptop next to him in bed. He decided to do some research on the photographer.

"Alrighty, let's see who this is..." He whispered to himself, taking his laptop and placing onto his lap. He goes to his email, a few unread emails, it wasn't very clean but still organized for him to maneuver around. Spencer's email was on the top since it is the newest received mail. Brendon skips his boss' little babbling on the cameraman and clicks on the link that takes him to Dallon's photography page.

"Okay, well, fuck, these are some nice shots." He comments as the page loads. The home page is simple, colors like black, white, and gray, and the main attraction is his photos, mostly in black and white. There is content such as portraits, landscapes, and a few lewd shots. Brendon thought he was an impressive artist. There's a sidebar to the links of pictures and other pieces of information.

The sidebar has links that say "PORTRAITS", "LANDSCAPES", "ABOUT", and "CONTACT". Brendon looks into "PORTRAITS" link, leading to more categories, whoever this Dallon Weekes is, he's neat as hell. The next page loads and there's links that say "BLACK AND WHITE", "COLOR", "SELF", "MISCELLANEOUS", AND "XXX". Brendon's interest piques when he sees the one titled "XXX" and he thinks he's hit the jackpot.

He grins and clicks it, the pictures begin to load. Brendon skims the gallery, seeing photos of women and men in suggestive positions. Half of them in color and the other in grayscale. As he continues to scroll down, Brendon assumes, Dallon must be one kinky fucker. After all, most of the photos contain themes of BDSM, which Brendon doesn't mind. There were photos of people in bondage, some with a hand on a person's throat (Brendon's hoping that was Dallon's hand), and others were more subtle.

He decides to stop his perusal of the explicit photos and decides to see photos of the photographer himself. The model finds pictures of Weekes and to Brendon, he's attractive. From what he's seen, Dallon has shiny blue eyes, ravaged brown hair, and he knows how to dress.

"Oh, my fuckin' god." Brendon breathlessly gasps, finding himself upon a picture of Dallon with a tucked in white dress shirt paired with a bowtie and suspenders. His body is facing the camera while his head is toward the ground, showing his messed-up hair, with something in his mouth, maybe a toothpick and his hands are on his hips. The picture's in black and white, also, there's a little caption under the photo, "Don't even try me."

Why is he so hot? Goddamn. Brendon is practically drooling over this picture and this guy. He's never been so excited to have a shoot or meet a photographer. And now he has to wait two days.

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"Brendon, hurry the fuck up, you're late and lucky that Mr. Weekes hasn't arrived yet." Spencer annoyingly speaks through his phone.