From Cleaving:

When Zach returned to the bedroom he was confronted with a sight that stopped him in his tracks: Chris, sitting naked and cross-legged on the bed, tuning his guitar.  Before he could look up, Zach had his phone out and was snapping a picture.  

“That is not going on Instagram.” Chris warned.

“Nope.  This is just for me,” Zach said, taking one more with Chris eying him with the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen, even on Chris.  The damned iPhone would never capture it.  Maybe he’d convince Chris to let him bring the fancy SLR camera to bed later if he promised to abide Chris’ typical nudity clause.  “Anyway,  I don’t think I want anyone else seeing you like this.”

Chris looked down at himself, noticing all the places the guitar covered, and snorted.  “Pretty sure they’ve seen more of me than this on the big screen.  Multiple times.”

“True.  That parachute scene was a classic.  And way more revealing than my ‘Bleary, Hairy Man in Bed’ Instagram series.  But I was thinking more of… I don’t know.  You sitting naked on the bed, all damp still from the shower, holding your guitar…it somehow seems more revealing than your hairless balls sliding down a windshield.”

Chris shook his head with a laugh.  “Yeah, well, I’m not in character at present.  And you know… the things we do for quirky little films.  Anyway, I really don’t mind your Instagram fetish.  I just prefer not to have my face in those things.  And I prefer it PG.”

“I’m well aware,” Zach said, sitting on the bed facing Chris.  “So, what have you been practicing?”

Chris bit his lip, suddenly shy, which made Zach laugh out loud, considering what they’d just been up to.  “Is it sweet?” he asked.

“You’re such an ass,” Chris complained with a smile.

“Yeah, but I’m your ass,” he answered, waving his left hand to show off the ring.  “Forever.”