17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Emil

“Well, well. Look who it is. You’ve got some explaining to do, mister.”

I let the door to the studio close behind me, wondering how in the hell Alex knew I was coming. “Were you waiting here for me?”

He scoffs, but he doesn’t deny it. “You and Christian.”

“Um,” I say, skirting past the blonde menace to head down the hall. “Yeah?”

“Don’t yeah me, Kent. What the hell is going on? The way you two were looking at each other Friday night… You can’t tell me that was nothing.”

I give Marco a nod as we pass in the hall. Luckily, when I enter the break room, Alex hot on my heels, the only other person present to witness my interrogation is Dixon.

Turning, I face the firing squad. “We’re dating.”

Alex’s mouth falls open before he recovers. “Since when?”

“Saturday.”

I can see his wheels spinning. “You, the guy who never dates, are going out with your coworker whom you’ve known for all of a few weeks?”

“Um…”

“Kent,” he warns.

“We’ve known each other longer.”

Silence falls, and Dixon snorts.

“You, hush,” Alex says to our coworker before addressing me. “Define ‘longer.’”

I sigh, knowing there’s no way out of this. Alex is going to pry the truth from me, either slowly or by force. Might as well save myself the struggle.

“Christian lives next door to me. We met, or rather started texting, four months ago after he caught me jerking off through the windows of our respective apartment buildings. He applied for this job without knowing I worked here, and now…here we are.”

Alex doesn’t say a word. Not a single one.

“I think you broke him,” Dixon mumbles before taking a sip of his latte. “Bravo.”

“You…” Alex says before pausing. His eyes light. “ He’s the one you’re always texting.”

“You solved it, Lois,” I say, taking a seat at one of the tables. I swing my bookbag to the ground as Alex sits across from me.

“Why were you hiding it?” he asks, expression and tone gentle if not a little confused.

Because our relationship, at the time, was based around the fact that I’m an exhibitionist who gets off on my neighbor watching me pleasure myself?

“Um…”

“Not everyone is as open with their lives as you are, Alex,” Dixon points out.

“’Scuse you. Like that’s a bad thing?” Alex retorts.

Dixon levels him with an unimpressed glare. “Pudding pop, darling, my little tater tot, there are things no person needs to know. Like how many cumulative dicks and fingers their coworker’s ass can take.”

Alex turns to me with a grin. “The answer is two plus three.”

I blanch.

“And we’re porn stars,” Alex says, returning his attention to Dixon. “Like any of the intimate details of our assets are secret. Must I remind you where your tongue has been?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dixon grumbles. “Why did I engage?”

I grab my bag, slipping from my seat while my coworkers are distracted.

“Grumpy Bear,” Alex says, “just because you’re allergic to sharing your own feelings doesn’t mean everyone in class is.”

“How in the hell did we get from DP to feelings ?” Dixon asks in concern.

Nearly there…

“Because,” Alex says proudly, “when my boyfriends share their dicks with me, I feel—”

The door to the break room closes behind me, thankfully blocking whatever that was. Dixon’s responding groan comes through loud and clear.

“Don’t even wanna know,” I mutter, heading toward the locker room.

The space is empty when I arrive, and I stash my bag inside my locker before grabbing my shower supplies. Having come from a meeting with Nicole and Lucy about this week’s allocation of research-related duties, I haven’t yet cleaned up for my scheduled scene. I do that now, my mind, unsurprisingly, flashing to Christian.

As if my thoughts conjured the man himself, his voice rings out. “Specs?”

“Yeah,” I call back. “It’s me.”

I’m nearly finished rinsing off when the shower curtain shifts to the side and a somewhat blurry Christian appears in my vision.

“What are you—”

Christian’s lips fitting to mine bring my words to an abrupt halt. He backs me into the tile wall, his naked body pressing against me as he flings the shower curtain shut. A moan spills from my lips as his leg slots between my own.

I break our lip-lock to suck in a breath and finish my question. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he says, his hand roaming around to my ass, lips at my neck. “Was that not obvious?”

“Oh my God,” I mutter, shifting my cock against his hip as he sucks tiny kisses up to my ear.

“Mm. My horny exhibitionist,” he murmurs, as if he wasn’t the one to barge in here and all but tackle me. His fingers slide between my ass cheeks.

“Christian,” I groan, my brain doing its best to rally. “We…we have a scene. We should save…” I lose my words to a moan as his fingers find their target, the tip of one digit pressing in.

“I won’t make you come,” he says before his mouth is back on mine.

I let Christian sweep me away, his finger teasing as his tongue destroys. Why this gorgeous man wants me , of all people, as his very first boyfriend, I can’t figure out. But I trust him. And I want him, too. So I grab his hand, giving it a push, and Christian slips his finger in deeper.

I ride the digit as our tongues duel, his hand cupping my ass, his leg beneath my balls. It feels as if he’s cradling me from all sides, and I realize I feel that often with Christian—surrounded, protected. Secure.

When I know I can’t last much longer, I give Christian’s hair a tug. “Stop.”

He does immediately, his finger stilling and his head dropping to my shoulder. For a moment, we both simply… breathe .

I curse when his finger slips out of me. “What, uh…what was that for?”

Christian leans back, catching my eye. At least, it seems that way. With my farsightedness and astigmatism, it’s impossible to see him clearly without my glasses.

His thumb travels along my lower lip. “I just wanted you all to myself for a minute. Is that okay?”

Fucking hell.

I nod as my heart pounds.

Christian grabs my shampoo. “Okay if I use this?”

I nod again, and a blurry but stunning Christian proceeds to wash his hair in front of me. I squint as best I can, trying to make out the details of his face and body, but they’re lost to me for now. Christian’s chuckle lets me know I’ve been caught.

“Do you ever wear contacts?” he asks.

“No. I tried them once, but I didn’t like how they felt.”

He hums. “The glasses suit you.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” he says, his arms in the air as he rinses the shampoo out of his hair. He lathers his body next. “They just fit you, you know? You’re my Specs.”

Oof .

“I think you might be bad for my heart,” I say. Aloud .

“What?” Christian asks around a laugh.

I step closer, pulling his wet body against mine. “When we’re on that bed, I want you to finger me open.”

Christian’s cock bucks against my hip.

“I want you to do it slowly,” I say, “until I’m all but begging for your cock. I want you to take your time, make me incoherent, and only once I threaten bodily harm do I want you to fuck me into that mattress. You’re going to do it hard, and you’re going to do it fast, because I’ll be too keyed up to tolerate anything else. You’re going to show them, Christian. You’ll show them who I belong to.”

Christian’s hand snakes into my hair, a shaky breath leaving his lungs as he pulls my head back gently. “Fuck, Specs. I think I’m infatuated with you.”

I run my hands up the sides of his slender waist. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

He reaches over, shutting off the water. “Let’s go.”

After getting dressed, Christian stands in front of a mirror and blow-dries his hair. It doesn’t take long. He adds a touch of product after that gives it an effortlessly tousled look, and then he turns his sights on me. I let Christian dry my hair, too, sitting on the bench seat in front of the mirrors, my fingers tracing over the grooves of Christian’s hips and the dainty jeweled bar in his navel. When I lean forward to press my lips to the bulge in his pants, the blow-dryer turns off.

The next twenty minutes are a blur of scene setup and anticipation that thrums heavily through my veins. My head has already shut off, cognition having given way to baser wants, but I trust Christian to watch over me, my ever-present sentinel. My voyeur turned protector.

When I hear Christian addressing me, I snap back to consciousness, as if awaking from a dream. I realize we’re already filming.

“Come on, Fe. I need my hands on you.”

Not about to argue, I let Christian push me onto my back. He tugs off my pants and underwear, then my shirt, and rolls me to my stomach. I go like putty, his to command.

“Gorgeous,” he mutters, the word for our viewers but also for me.

I lift my ass higher, getting up on my knees, and Christian’s finger, cool and wet, circles my rim. He presses it inside of me, and I moan.

“Look at you, Fe,” he praises, sliding that finger in and out, using a come hither motion that stretches me with every pass. “Your ass was made to be cherished. To be spread open and worshiped. You’re a sight, and I get to show you off.”

I nod frantically, breath hitching. “Please. More.”

He presses in with two fingers, his other hand traveling along my taint. When he moves his hands in tandem, as if trying to bring the fingers of both hands together, I damn near shoot out of my skin.

“Oh fuck, fuck .”

Christian chuckles, a dark yet warm sound. He continues to stroke me in the same way, the added pressure on my prostate making me concerned I might not last long enough for Christian to fuck me. But he gentles the motions before long, his hand on my taint running up over my ass cheek. His fingers continue fucking me leisurely.

“I like seeing you like this,” he says.

“Like…what?” I huff between breaths.

“At my mercy,” he answers.

“Oh, fuck you.”

He laughs, knowing full well I love it. And asked for it . “No thanks. I’ll be doing the fucking today.”

“ Vixen .”

“In time, sweetheart. I’m not done playing.”

I groan, but Christian continues to take his time, avoiding my prostate as he fingers me open. Two fingers slowly become three. He presses downwards as he moves, the tugging pressure on my rim damn near driving me mad.

“Come on,” I moan. “I’m ready.”

“Not quite,” he says, his free hand cupping my balls. He rolls them in his palm, squeezing gently.

“ God , fuck, Vixen.”

“Mm.”

“You—”

His hand slips along my cock, a single smooth stroke before his palm caresses the head, rolling, rolling, like he’s chalking a pool stick.

“Need…” I garble.

“You need what?” he asks, giving me another full stroke on my cock as his fingers press deep into my ass.

“I need you to fuck me before I smother you with this pillow.”

I toss it over my shoulder in demonstration, and Christian laughs, letting me know I probably hit the mark. His hand leaves my cock, smoothing over my backside as his fingers slowly retreat out of my ass.

“There it is,” he says smugly. I feel him shuffle closer before his body blankets mine. His lips press to my ear, voice much too soft to be picked up by the boom. “The cutest threat to my person I’ve ever heard.”

“I meant it,” I whisper back.

“I know.”

And with that, Christian lifts off of me and flips me onto my back. With quick efficiency, he sheathes his cock in a condom and tugs my legs up and into place around his hips. His hand settles under my ass as his other positions his cock, and finally , he’s pushing inside of me.

I arch into it, accepting the stretch, marveling at how this feels just like the other times we’ve fucked. Familiar, almost. Right. As if, from the get-go, I really did consider Christian mine. And I was his.

The realization makes me feel almost unbearably vulnerable. But the sensation only lasts for a moment because Christian, having seated himself fully, bends forward and catches my lips. He punches his hips at an angle that has me crying out, and then he swallows down the sound, fucking me harder, damn near mercilessly just like I asked him to. I lock my ankles behind his ass and sink into the bedding, unable to do anything but.

I don’t even realize I’m rambling, but when Christian’s lips drop to my neck, I can hear the, “God, yes. Please. Yes,” pouring from my mouth. Again and again, I plead, and again and again, Christian delivers. I feel like I might just burst apart, and when it hits me that yes , I’m about to, I gasp, “Coming.”

Christian pulls back quickly, and I don’t have time to mourn the loss before his hand is wrapping around my dick. “Come on. Paint yourself, beautiful.”

And fuck, that’s all it takes.

I come across my stomach and chest, my entire body seized tight. Christian groans, as if pained, and I realize it’s because he’s trying desperately to stave off his own orgasm.

As soon as I slump flat, I wave him forward. “Come on, come on.”

He seems to get the hint because he pulls out and crawls up over my chest. I strip his condom as Christian falls on his hands above my head, and with his cock positioned over my face, I stroke. I barely have time to blink before he’s coming across my cheeks and lips, his release hot on my skin. His accompanying moan is quite possibly the most satisfying sound I’ve ever heard.

As soon as Christian slumps, I let go of him. He scoots down my body, his eyes running up and down the mess on my skin before he barks a bright and joyous laugh. In a display of superb cheekiness, he brings his fingers to his lips and blows a chef’s kiss.

“Perfect. A true masterpiece,” he says.

I feebly kick at his leg. “You dick.”

Laughing, Christian falls back over me and licks my lower lip. He drags his own cum up to my mouth, kissing me soundly, letting me taste his flavor. I’m pretty sure I can taste his smile, too.

It’s not until there’s a distinct and loud throat clear that the two of us break apart, both of our heads whipping to the side. Jerome is standing next to the camera, his eyebrow raised. The light is no longer blinking red.

“Gentlemen,” our boss says evenly. “Once you’re both cleaned up, a word.”