Ready for His Close-Up

If you're like me, you ran straight to your search bar immediately after hearing that Chris Evans would be wearing a jockstrap in his new movie. If you're exactly like me, then you got turned on enough to write erotica about it. And if you're nothing like me, then you can see him like that for the first time in the VIP server after reading this post.

Walking into the wardrobe trailer, I saw multiple racks of clothing set up for each of the main cast. Aubrey’s was right in the middle, Margaret’s was over on the right, and mine was against the left wall. Margaret had clearly come in for her fitting first because everything was covered in pins and little pieces of paper with notes of how to take in the garments.

I saw way too much polyester on my rack in various shades of white, cream, beige, and tan. There was a baby blue number right in the middle though that called me over, but the showstopper would be the outfit hanging right beside it… well, the word outfit might be pushing it if I’m being honest.

“Chris, you’re ready for your first fitting?”

“Jaime, what the fuck is this?” I was beloved on the internet, and I was one of the celebrities that didn’t want to taint that image. I worked with great people that made that task easy, but sometimes, I had to stand up for myself. “You know that I was in Marvel movies, right?”

“Marvel? What’s that?”

My bravado act faded as my agent took up residency in the chair in the corner with a grin on his face.

“Jaime, I’m serious.”

I held up the hanger with only a jockstrap on it, one of the old-fashioned pairs that was actually for utility and not style. The basket was made of cushy, thin material, and the waistband was a thick strap of elastic.

“Listen man, this is one of the scenes that the director is standing firm on, and he’s not taking no for an answer. It’s the perfect way to show what your character is about.”

“With my ass hanging out?”

“You mean America’s Ass?”

“So you have seen a Marvel movie.”

“I’m going to see this one as well.”

“You really think this will be my new Knives Out?”

“Well, I know that it won’t be like Lightyear.”

And there we go- maybe the jockstrap wouldn’t be so bad…

Eleven Months Later:

Walking inside the theater, the cheers from the crowd outside faded away, and the flashbulbs from photographers was replaced with dimmed chandeliers hanging overhead. I’d been to several premieres here before, but as my wife steered me over towards the food, I knew that this feeling would never grow old.

An hour later, we were ushered to our seats, and the cast was led to a row of moon-shaped booths at the very front. Alba slid in first leaving me at the very edge and leaning against her, I watched as the opening credits filled the screen followed immediately by cheers behind us. Turning towards them, I saw everyone’s faces lit by the glow of the giant screen, and I knew that my initial reservations almost a year ago were for nothing.

As the movie played, I watched my friends on screen, but a little over halfway through, I began to lose focus. I knew what scene was coming up, and that shaky feeling returned even though I knew that the director had been right.

I still remembered that day of filming though as I’d walked onto the set wearing just a jockstrap under my robe. It seemed that everyone in the crew needed to be on set at that moment, but I couldn’t focus on what was happening on the other side of the camera. I had to stay in my character who was fine showing off his body like this.

The weird thing was that I did care even though I shouldn’t. I’m fucking Captain America for crying out loud- I have nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve quit the Marvel diet, and my gym visits are hours shorter now, but still, I know what I look like.

As if I was still there, I can remember exactly how it felt to drop that robe and hear gasps from the crew that would have ruined the take if the camera was rolling. I flubbed my first few takes, but eventually, I was able to nail each and every one. And now, I was about to see the final edit.

Well, I guess he was.

I heard my voice again on screen, and then as gasps filled the room behind me, I looked up to see me standing there, twenty feet tall, in nothing but a jockstrap. It felt so unnatural, but I felt my wife grab onto my hand, and I squeezed back.

As I turned towards the bed on my left, baby blue satin sheets just like the color of that suit I’d remembered loving, a peek at the side of my toned ass appeared, and the anticipation grew behind me. I luckily wasn’t going to fully turn around on screen, but they didn’t know that. I was waiting on the scene to end, but I could feel them wanting it to last for the rest of the movie. This was torture.

Finally, I reached for the pair of pants on the rack beside me that would cover me back up, but instead of putting them on, I accidentally dropped them on the ground.

Wait, what? This is the scene they chose? The take where I messed up?

It cut away to my scene partner who was standing there with a grimace on his face, and then when the camera turned back on me, the gasps turned to full yells behind me. The fucking take that they’d used was one where I leaned over to grab the pants, and my ass was aimed directly at the camera. Nothing was hidden, and by that, I mean absolutely nothing.

As I bent over, my ass cheeks spread open and my pink asshole was staring back at all of us. I had never seen this angle of me before, and now I was looking at my butthole several feet tall.

I was breaking out into a cold sweat now, and the scene couldn’t end fast enough. Turning my head a bit, the scene was bright enough that I could see everyone watching in rapt attention, and only a few people weren’t looking straight ahead.

They were looking straight at me.

Locking eyes, I saw two men a couple of rows up who were undressing me with their eyes to make me feel as naked now as I was on screen. It was as if they could see my sweaty chest with every muscle in my body tensed. I could feel my dick stiffen between my thighs for some reason, and I wondered how many men in here were experiencing the same phenomenon for different reasons.

This couldn’t be happening, but as I looked over at Jaime two rows behind me, I saw that same smirk again, and I knew that I would fire him tonight. There was still a sex scene left to go, and I had no idea what he’d okayed to be on screen.