Fandom: Quantum Leap (For babykid528) And thanks to every one who suggested it for Q, because you really didn't want to read my idea for Queer Eye.
Character: Sam Beckett (Includes Al/Ziggy/OFC/OMC)
Notes: Conceived and co-written by bff Jennifer, my original partner in Sue-ish crime. She came through like a champ, even though she's never done anything remotely slashy before. If you like this one, it's all down to her and of course Beta Goddess Carol.
For a masturbation fic fest, I'm sure getting a lot of help. Thanks to everybody who's been helping me with ideas for various letters. Not too late to get ideas in, especially since I have to repeat A thru E.
Even with his Swiss cheese brain, Sam was pretty sure he’d never had a leap like this.
He was in bed, naked, hands on his own erect cock, which definitely wasn’t the one he’d had last time. Or any time. He couldn’t be that big -- nobody could. There was no time to think. Things were way past that. His hands were moving and the blonde... Blonde? A naked blonde, whose assets were as oversized as the monster in his own hands, was leaning over him, making encouraging noises, not that he needed any. His hands pistoned up and down until he gasped for air, groaning loudly as shivers went through his body. He’d never actually seen that much…and the blonde positioned herself so that she ended up with sticky stripes all over her face.
As soon as he could speak again, Sam started to apologize…”I am so sorry…Miss…? Can I get you a handkerchief?”
“What the fuck?” Sam realized that the loud voice emanated from a large man holding what appeared to be a video camera focused on…him. “You’re not supposed to apologize…shit! Damnit, Hank, that was one of your best money shots ever and you just screwed it up.”
Sam sat in “Hank’s” dressing room wearing a bathrobe, trying not to look down at the giant…well, he’d heard it called a “tool” before but had never seen one where the name fit quite so well. How did the man even walk straight? Or wear a pair of pants?
The director had given him five minutes to get ready for the next take. He’d offered the services of either “Vanessa” or “Peter,” both of whom Sam had hastily turned down, explaining he could get prepared by himself. The bulky, bearded man nodded, as though he expected this.
“OK, have it your way. You know someday, you’re gonna have to… Just get it up by the time I get Pam cleaned off again.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
He stood up to look at himself in the full length mirror and found a man in his thirties, with a head of blow-dried hair and a mustache. Under the half-opened robe he saw a hairy, muscular chest. He continued to take inventory, having to pause as he got a gander at what had obviously put Hank into this business in the first place. All Sam could do was shake his head.
At that moment, Al appeared in the mirror behind him, looking far too happy about the situation.
He pulled the robe tighter.
“Al, where have you been?”
“With your friend in the waiting room, trying to explain to him that he hadn’t been castrated.”
“Not for him. Sam, do you know who you are?”
He struggled, as always, with that dizzying sense of not knowing who he was, although the “what” was fairly obvious.
“I should get your autograph. You’re a hero. A man among men.”
“I’m a porn actor.”
“You are the porn actor, my man. You’re Hank Wank.”
Al took out Ziggy’s control pad and pressed a few buttons.
“It’s 1988. You’re the top earner in the industry. You once did five money shots in an hour. You’d be in the Guiness Book of World Records if they weren’t such prudes. And I’m sure you’ve already noticed that Mr. Wank is quite….how can I say it…well endowed.”
“Yes. I noticed. Why the hell am I here?”
“Ziggy’s working on that. He says there’s a kid around here who needs help.”
“A kid? There shouldn’t be kids anywhere within a mile of this place.”
“Pipe down, will ya. It’s not all bad.”
“What about that poor girl I…”
“You didn’t actually touch her, did you?”
“Part of me did.”
“But not you. Hank only does masturbation flicks. Hence, the name, you get it?”
“You’d like Hank “
“I don’t think so. This is a…” He struggled to find an inoffensive word. “An undignified way to make a living.”
“Well, he’s a lot like you.”
“In what way?”
“He’s been married to his childhood sweetheart since they were 19 and he doesn’t want to cheat on her, but even she thinks it would be a shame to waste such a god-given talent. So he whacks off for the camera, but he never actually touches anyone but himself.”
“I’m sure that’s very admirable, but it still doesn’t…”
There was a knock on the door. “Two minutes, Mr. Wank.”
“Thanks,” he said weakly, trying to will the thing between his legs to stand up without his actually having to…
“Hey, Sam, you think I could get a peek? It’s not every day you leap into a celebrity like this…”
“Aw, come on, Sam. When you’re in Paris, you make damn sure you see the Eiffel Tower.”
“Just find out what I’m doing here.”
“Well, right now you better be getting ready for your close-up.”
Al was gone, leaving Sam to contemplate learning to love himself, or at least Hank Wank.
There was another knock on the door, this time softer.
“Mr. Wank?” The voice was young, somewhat tentative.
Sam adjusted his bathrobe to make sure that Hank’s charms were fully covered. Even at half-mast, it took some doing.
The young man who entered the room couldn’t have been more than 18. He was blond with a shaggy head of hair that hadn’t been subjected to the extensive coiffing apparently required to get in front of a camera and practice self-gratification for the gratification of others. He had a shy smile, and spent long seconds shuffling his feet and avoiding looking Hank in the eye, although Sam couldn’t help noticing the gaze that danced around his crotch.
He blushed as he felt something twitching to life. Maybe he wouldn’t have to screw up Hank Wank’s stellar reputation after all.
He heard Al say, “Sam, Ziggy says this is the kid, but he says you have to help Hank too.”
“I’m Peter,” the young man said, clearly awed to be in Hank’s presence.
Peter…that was the one who’d been volunteered to get Hank…What was the word for that job?
“You’re the …”
“I’m a fluffer.”
“I don’t use…”
“I know. I know. I just wanted to talk to you. You’re my hero and I…”
“I shouldn’t be anybody’s hero. Not for…this,” he gestured, at what was now clearly tenting the front of the bathrobe. “I mean it’s just something I was born with.”
More shuffling. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The crew was waiting and Peter clearly had something on his mind that was bothering him. Probably the thing that Sam was here to fix. Preferably without screwing up someone’s career. Although maybe getting Hank Wank out of this business was a good thing. If this were the 80’s…lots of bad things could happen.
“What is it, Peter?”
“I can’t get it up.”
“Well, who could under this kind of pressure?”
“I mean ever. Girls, boys, I’ve tried everything. I just can’t…I want to be in the movies. Like you. I’m not as…but I’m not bad…if I could just…you know…I want to be famous. I want to be like you.”
The kid looked devastated by his confession, although Sam couldn’t tell if it were the physical problem or the career goal that held more shame.
Sam instinctively knew what had to be done. “Let me see,” he said gently.
“Right here? Now?”
“Trust me. I think we can solve both our problems.”
Peter unbuttoned the top of his jeans and let the zipper down with deliberate, teasing slowness. The kid was a natural and naturally gifted for the business, although not to the cartoonish extent of Hank Wank.
Sam opened his robe, giving Peter the thrill that he’d denied Al. The kid’s eyes grew wide.
With something approaching tenderness, Sam reached out for Peter’s hand and put it on Hank’s dick. He felt the boy’s hand wrapping around him, squeezing. Hank would definitely be ready, even if he’d broken his own rules to do it. Maybe that would have some impact on his future.
Even more slowly, hoping he was really doing the right thing, Sam took hold of Peter and felt an almost instant reaction as the boy hardened against his fingers. Such smooth skin. Sam was surprised at how much having his own hand on another man was making his…or Hank’s… or maybe it was the soft hand on him, already stroking, going fast. He was only supposed to be getting ready for the shot, not doing the actual deed…he had to tell Peter to stop…. NOW!
Bright light… static…Shit!
No time to appreciate the pleasure or satisfaction of a job well done before he leaped.