Review the footage so far

Marcus gives your ass one last appreciative squeeze before pulling his jeans up, that satisfied grin still plastered across his handsome face. 'Gotta bounce, superstar,' he rumbles, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your sweaty forehead. 'But damn... anytime you need a scene partner, you know where I am.' He winks, heading out the viewing booth door, leaving you sprawled on the leather couch, legs still trembling, Alex already fussing with the camcorder.

'C'mon, Red,' Alex says, their voice tight with excitement, barely glancing at you as they pop the memory card out. 'Office. Now. Gotta see this gold.' They're already moving, practically vibrating with energy. You push yourself up, wincing slightly at the deep ache between your thighs, the sticky wetness cooling on your skin. You grab your discarded clothes – the flannel feels rough against your oversensitized skin as you shrug it on over your bra, not bothering with the buttons. Your jeans are a struggle to pull up over your damp thighs, the denim rubbing uncomfortably against your swollen flesh. Alex is practically dancing with impatience by the time you stumble out into the hallway.

The back office is cramped chaos – stacks of invoices, dusty VHS tapes, an ancient computer monitor glowing faintly. Alex shoves a pile of papers off a rickety swivel chair onto the floor. 'Sit,' they command, already slotting the memory card into a cheap card reader plugged into the computer. You sink into the chair, the cheap plastic creaking under your weight. Your core throbs in time with your heartbeat, a constant, aching reminder of Marcus buried deep inside you just minutes ago. The screen flickers, then blooms to life, showing the grainy, slightly shaky footage of the main store aisle.

There you are, on your knees, looking up at Marcus with those big, wide eyes Alex told you to use. The camera zooms tight on your lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock. Alex leans over your shoulder, their breath warm and rapid against your neck. 'See? Fuckin' perfect. The lighting, the angle... the way you look up at him... pure fucking fire.' Their finger jabs at the screen as Marcus groans, his head thrown back. 'See that? That's the money shot. Literally.' You watch yourself swallow, the muscles in your throat working. It's surreal, detached, like watching someone else. But the heat pooling low in your belly is undeniably yours. You shift in the chair, the wetness between your legs feeling suddenly more noticeable.

The scene cuts – Alex must have paused recording briefly when you moved to the back room. Now the screen shows the viewing booth. Marcus, naked and magnificent, lifting you onto the couch. You see your own legs falling open, your bra the only barrier. Your breath hitches as Marcus pushes into you on screen. The camera catches the exact moment your eyes widen, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' as he fills you. 'God, look at you take it,' Alex murmurs, their voice husky right beside your ear. Their hand lands on your shoulder, fingers digging in slightly. 'Like you were made for that dick.'

You watch, transfixed, as Marcus pounds into you on the screen. The wet slap of skin, your gasps and cries echoing tinny from the computer speakers. It's raw, visceral. You see your own hands clawing at his biceps, your back arching off the leather. Then it happens. The camera angle shifts slightly, zooming in tight between your joined bodies just as Marcus buries himself deep with that final, guttural roar. You see it clearly on the grainy screen: the thick, pearly white fluid leaking out around the base of his cock as he pulls out, dripping onto the dark leather of the couch cushion beneath you. A fresh, hot wave of arousal floods your core, immediately chased by icy panic.

'Oh fuck! Alex!' You spin in the chair, nearly knocking them over. Your eyes are wide, panic clawing its way up your throat. 'He... he came inside me! On the tape! You saw it! The condom... Marcus didn't use a condom!' Your hand flies to your lower belly. 'I... I can't be pregnant! I'm barely scraping rent, I can't... I'm not ready!' The images flash in your mind – diapers, screaming babies, your life vanishing in a haze of exhaustion and poverty. The heat of arousal is instantly drowned by cold, sharp fear.

Alex stares at you, their hazel eyes wide for a split second before their expression smooths into one of dismissive calm. They wave a hand, scoffing. 'Whoa, chill the fuck out, Red. Seriously.' They lean back against the cluttered desk, crossing their arms. 'Look, I shoulda mentioned it before, but Marcus? Yeah, he's shooting blanks. Total dud.'

You blink, the panic stuttering. 'What? Blanks? What do you mean?'

'Means he got kneed in the nuts playing college ball, like, real bad,' Alex explains, their voice casual, almost bored. 'Screwed up the plumbing permanently. Docs told him years ago, zero swimmers. Zilch. Nada.' They shrug. 'Dude's basically shooting air. That goo you saw?' They gesture at the screen where the incriminating footage is frozen. 'Just... protein shake leftovers. Harmless.' They offer a crooked smirk. 'So breathe, yeah? No baby scares. Just premium, messy content.'

You stare at them, the frantic pounding of your heart slowly easing. The cold fear recedes, leaving behind the simmering heat the footage had ignited. Alex's explanation makes sense... sort of. Marcus is built like a linebacker. A sports injury... plausible. You swallow hard, the image of that thick cream spilling out of you replaying in your mind. Harmless. Just messy. A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with fear. 'Just... protein?' you ask weakly, your voice barely a whisper.

Alex pushes off the desk, stepping closer. Their gaze drops to your lips, then lower, where your flannel hangs open, revealing the swell of your breasts above your bra. 'Just protein,' they confirm, their voice dropping lower. 'So... you good? Ready to plan the next scene?' Their hand reaches out, fingertips brushing a stray strand of your fiery hair back from your face. The touch lingers, sending a different kind of jolt through you. 'Maybe something... just you and me this time?'