Chapter Sixteen

Rowes

 

His heart was pounding as he clutched the wall, Clarke moving closer to him with every passing second. Time seemed to slow as he stared at the lips he was moments away from kissing, terror ricocheting through him as he contemplated running.

It wasn’t the cameras or even the threat of a hard cock that was so petrifying, but the idea of kissing someone who wasn’t Izzy. Izzy had done everything he could to ease Rowes’ worries before getting on set. When the morning of the planned scene had arrived, Izzy hadn’t given him a moment to think about it, not letting him leave their room until he’d kissed every inch of him.

It wasn’t enough. Those kisses had cooled, and now there was a new pair of lips headed his way.

The plug that he’d put inside himself as Izzy had watched from across the room, jerking his cock as Rowes had moaned, was one claim. The collar on his wrist was the second, tucked safely beneath his sleeve and out of sight of the cameras.

But his lips were Izzy’s, too, and now he had to loan them out to another man. It just didn’t feel right. Visually, Clarke looked like he might be a kissable guy, with a rugged jawline and crystal blue eyes…but he wasn’t Izzy.

Clarke sent him a concerned look, pausing when they were just inches apart. They couldn’t speak with the microphones ready to pick up every sound, probably already catching Rowes’ pounding heart.

They hadn’t practiced before the cameras were ready to roll. There was no way he’d make Izzy watch that, and Rowes’ may have convinced himself that he was ready. I’m not ready. Would he get fired for pissing himself? Because he was getting pretty close.

When Rowes glanced to the side, he caught sight of the camera and the director, the latter looking way too eager. She motioned her hand, urging him to get on with it.

“You okay?” asked Clarke. It was only a whisper, but it was enough.

“Cut,” the director drawled, leaning forward on her chair and resting her cheek on her hand. “Okay, Rowes, can you look a little less terrified? It’s a kiss, not a grenade.”

Clarke snickered, ducking behind his hand as he circled back to his starting position. Rowes clutched the wall, unable to move as his knees trembled.

“But I’m behind enemy lines, right? I should be terrified.” He didn’t mention that his character Salem would never kiss the enemy. He was far too loyal to Kemble for that. It was a plot hole that was going to piss off a lot of fans.

“You guys have been going out for months on the sly and just happened to catch each other in the middle of a gunfight. Think surprise, disbelief and longing. There’s too strong of a connection between you to let bullets get in the way.”

“Okay, got it.” Rowes rolled his shoulders, bringing his hand up so his gun rested against his chest. He was pretty sure he’d shot enough baddies for it to be empty three times over, but sometimes things happened like that on screen.

“Action.”

Clarke rushed in, gun drawn, only to stop two paces away, his mouth open in shock. Rowes slipped into character a second too late, bringing his gun out before he realized just who he was looking at.

The man before him was his lover, on the other side of a gang war, like Romeo and Juliet. His heart pounded as the gun fell from his grip, Clarke dropping his own weapon before moving in close.

Rowes flickered his gaze to Clarke’s lips, licking his own as he mustered every bit of arousal that he could and pushing longing into his gaze.

“Asha.” The name fell from Rowes’ lips, and he could almost believe his tone. He let the questions play over his face. How? Why? What? Clarke closed the distance between them, cupping Rowes’ chin.

“Salem.” Clarke breathed against his lips, the whisper like silk as he tilted his head. Rowes shuddered, clutching the hard brick against his back as he fought with himself. Not here. Not now. Kemble could be anywhere.

He gasped as Clarke’s lips touched his, the softness and the warmth almost startling. Something stirred in his gut, like an electric jolt singing his nerves. His lips had always been sensitive—more than any part of his body.

Izzy.

Rowes opened his eyes instead of shutting them, trying to look for Izzy past the haze of Clarke and the cameras. His body went taut against his will, and he touched Clarke’s leather jacket, ready to push him away. The lights burned his eyes, making them water as he caught the shimmer of the camera lens.

“Cut.” The director let out a sigh, rubbing her forehead. She’d been getting more frazzled as the day progressed, her hair starting to go astray. “Okay, that was better, but Asha isn’t electrifying Salem with a taser. This is a kiss after a long reunion, so less shock and more ‘oh it’s so good to see you’.”

Clearing his throat, Rowes looked away, grabbing for his gun as Clarke took a step back. His hand was trembling as he touched the handle, tucking it into his palm. It was realistic enough to trick the cameras, but it was a useless replica. They only used real weapons when there was no risk of accidental injury. “Got it.”

He could feel Izzy’s eyes on him, and when he looked up, he couldn’t hold his gaze. Izzy’s face was unreadable on the outside, but the tension in his jaw and the way he was holding himself were huge clues for Rowes. He was pissed—furious, even.

Biting his lip, Rowes shook out his free hand, trying to sink back into his character. But instead of aligning his thoughts with Salem’s as the director called ‘action’ again, all he could think of was Izzy.

He could close his eyes and pretend, but Clarke’s kiss was nothing like Izzy’s. How many shots would the director allow before she called it?

It turned out seven was not the lucky number, and as the director called ‘cut’ again, Rowes knew he was in for an extensive talking to. Izzy beat her to him, taking him by the wrist and squeezing. The collar dug into him, the metallic chain completely unforgiving as Izzy squeezed it through his shirt.

“What’s going on, Rowes?” asked the director, keeping her voice low as she crossed her arms. She looked just as frustrated as he felt, a few strands of hair defying gravity and sticking straight up. Izzy’s hand was steady on his, and it was the only thing that was keeping his tears back.

“I…” He trailed off, looking to Clarke. It wasn’t just his ass on the line. Clarke was just starting out, and they could fire him easier than swatting a fly if they thought it was his problem.

Izzy leaned in, whispering directly into Rowes’ ear. “Is it the plug? You can take it out if you need to.”

Rowes widened his eyes, glancing at the director who was looking between them. “I’m good. I swear. I’ll shake it off and try again. This will be the last shot, director. I promise.”

Izzy went to pull away, but Rowes turned his hand, grasping him and holding tight. He was shaking, the bubbling of nerves in his gut more intense than anything he’d felt on set before. Tugging Izzy a step closer, Rowes stood on his toes to whisper to him, glancing around but ignoring the gazes on them.

“I want it to be you.”

Izzy narrowed his eyes as he stepped back, his pupils blown wide. He only squeezed Rowes’ hand once before he pulled him in for a hug that was much too brief. People parted for him as he retreated behind the cameras, still wearing his gear from his earlier shoot. The intensity from his character was still in his gaze, burning into Rowes as he retreated to his starting position.

Readying himself, Rowes brought his gun up, pressing it against his chest as he leveled his back against the wall. The call ‘action’ was a distant one, and the next thing he knew, Clarke’s lips were on his.

He felt himself clamming up, the tension rolling through him like an unstoppable force. He clamped down on it, but it slipped through his fingers, numbing his character to a bumbling idiot who couldn’t fucking act. He was going to get them all fired, and it would be all his fault. No one would ever hire him again—not even for a toothpaste commercial.

“Hey!”

Clarke jerked back, turning to Izzy, who had settled against the opposite wall on set with his gun leveled at Clarke’s chest. He had his jacket on again, his makeup perfect after a day in grime. His eyes were glimmering in the set lights, Kemble in his every move. It was beautiful.

Izzy closed the space between them in a few short strides, the cameras tracking him like it had been the plan all along. The director bit her lip, leaning forward in her chair as she let it go on.

We’re rolling with it, then. Clarke seemed to catch up a second later as Izzy grabbed him by the shoulder, twisting him away and nailing him with a punch to the face that looked a little too realistic.

Clarke dropped to the ground with a groan, stilling as he settled in the dirt. His lip was shiny with blood, a smear of it on Izzy’s knuckles as he grabbed Rowes’ jacket, pinning him to the wall with a move that was all strength.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” said Izzy, licking his lips and grinning. “No one touches you but me.”

There was more than just his character behind his words, the pure possession silencing everything but Rowes’ beating heart. Wrapping a hand behind Izzy’s neck, he pulled him in, dragging him in for the only kiss he’d ever wanted.

He couldn’t stop the moan as they touched and Izzy possessed him, ripping his strength from his grasp and taking control. There was no easy pressure or careful thoughts, only teeth clacking and the taste of blood as Izzy pushed his tongue into Rowes’ mouth.

Fuck. He was hard in moments, and hopefully, the camera didn’t catch it as Izzy explored his mouth, touching and tasting every bit. And as he tried to draw back, Rowes held on, deepening the kiss and drinking down Izzy’s moan.

It was everything he’d ever dreamed about, with their friends and the cameras looking on and every single one of them silent. Right now, no one was judging them or bitching. They were enjoying it as much as the fans were bound to.

He was panting by the time Izzy forced their lips apart, leaning their foreheads together. His heart raced, his lungs burning for air as he closed his eyes, trailing his hands down Izzy’s back and hugging him tight. They were already flush, but he didn’t want to risk Izzy pulling back. The cameras would pick everything up, including the way he was throbbing.

“What do you say we get out of here?” asked Izzy, giving Rowes one last peck before he reached for the gun at his waistband.

Rowes nodded, barely able to play along as he scrambled for his own gun, subtly adjusting himself as he bent over. I’m on set and I’m so fucking hard. He hoped his jeans were forgiving enough not to completely give him away.

Izzy turned, kicking Clarke as he strolled past the camera like a predator. Clarke groaned softly, curling up as he hopefully exaggerated the hit.

“You coming?”

Licking his lips, Rowes nodded, tucking his gun away and running after Izzy to keep up. As soon as he reached him, he slung his arm around Izzy’s shoulder in exactly the way Salem would do to Kemble.

“Cut.”

Rowes stumbled as soon as the director said it, almost hyperventilating as his breathing picked up tenfold. Izzy touched his hand, sliding his finger under the links of the collar and tugging.

“You okay?” asked Izzy, putting himself between Rowes and the director as she strolled toward them followed by a half dozen or so other people. Clarke was picking himself off the ground and shaking off the hit, sending a grin their way as he sucked the blood from his lip.

“Why couldn’t you do that on the first take?” asked the director, scratching the back of her neck. Her face was flushed as she looked between them with glowing eyes. “I’m glad all that practice paid off, but we’re in for one hell of a rewrite if the producers okay it. We’ll call it a day so I can show them what we’ve got. You want to take a look?”

Rowes didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t.

“If you’re giving us the rest of the day off, I’m going to take it,” said Izzy, grinning at the director. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.” He winked, his usual calm self in place.

Rowes didn’t know how he could do it. Acting was one thing, but this was something else entirely. He couldn’t just will away an erection, although it was starting to go down with the taste of Izzy dissipating. He licked his lips, catching the last remnants of it.

“I might change my mind,” said the director, looking over her shoulder. “If the producers don’t go for this, we’ll just end up reshooting it all. I’m not deleting that bit, though. No siree!”

If they stayed any longer, Rowes was going to die of humiliation. Using Izzy as a shield, he adjusted himself again so he’d be less conspicuous, conscious of the many eyes on them. The rules about no cellphones were fierce but he’d already seen more than one set shot pop up in a fan video online.

“Let’s go,” said Rowes softly, his voice sounding much too weak. Izzy nodded, clenching his jaw. He may have looked calm, but Rowes knew the signs. His pupils were dilated, sweat gathering in his hairline, the grip on his false gun much too tight.

In the trailer, they changed quickly, Rowes managing to keep his hands to himself as Izzy watched him, his dark gaze catching every wince when the plug rubbed him just right. It felt bigger than it had on set, every nerve alight as it shifted, and the heaviness making him work to keep it inside.

“Does it hurt?” asked Izzy, already in his street clothes and leaning against the door frame. Thank goodness Rowes had been avoiding looking his way as he dressed, because he looked delicious, even in clothes, with the bit of dirt and makeup from set clinging to him and his hair styled to perfection. They never would have gotten out of the trailer if he’d spotted him naked.

“No,” said Rowes, letting out a small laugh. “Not at all.” It wasn’t even uncomfortable. He didn’t want to brag or anything, but he felt like he’d been built to wear a plug—or maybe it was that Izzy had picked the perfect one.

“Why do you keep flinching then?” Izzy stopped Rowes with a hand on his naked hip, his pants still around his ankles where he was trying to fix them because he’d realized he’d put them on backward in his rushed state. “You don’t have to put a brave face on for me, baby.”

“Every time it moves, it’s like you’re fucking me,” said Rowes, laughing as Izzy pressed his lips together. Two could play at the game Izzy had been doing all day, but Rowes was determined to win. “And if I relax, it slides out just a bit, only for me to suck it back inside when I clench. It’s getting me really worked up, just like you would.”

“Am I a good fuck?”

Laughing, Rowes tugged his pants up before wiggling his ass and letting out a little moan. He tilted his head back, licking his lips as he let his eyes slide part-way shut. “Yeah, Iz. That’s the spot.”

Izzy curled his hand around Rowes’ shirt, pulling him off balance. “You’re playing with fire, Rowes.”

“I know.” Rowes smirked, glancing toward the door. Right now he was safe and ready to push some boundaries. “What are you going to do? Push me up against a wall and make me come? You almost did that already.”

He hadn’t really been close to coming, but Izzy didn’t have to know that. He’d been too scared at the time to be anywhere close, but now? He was on top of the world.

“You’re a fucking tease,” said Izzy, grabbing him by the back of the neck and tugging him toward the door. “You know you’re going to get it when we get back to the room.”

Rowes giggled, turning to kiss Izzy on the neck before he could open the door. Lingering, he dragged his teeth over his pulse, licking the sweaty stretch of skin before he pulled away, giggling as he pulled the door wide and stepped outside.

There were people moving all about, most sticking around as they set up for tomorrow or for other scenes that day. There were way too many people around for Izzy to do anything too obvious, and it only spurred Rowes on. I’ll show you a tease.

When Rowes looked to Izzy, he swallowed, his throat clicking. Izzy’s eyes were dark, his face unreadable as he stepped after him, his body moving with purpose. “Push me, Ro. See what happens.”

Is that an invitation? It certainly sounds like one. Rowes grinned, clasping his hands behind his back. “I would never.”

There were only a few people brave enough to interrupt them on their way off set, but Izzy plowed through the conversations at record speed, dragging Rowes along by his hand. His grip was tight, his thumb roaming the space beneath the bracelet and tugging on it. It was on display for everyone who cared to look, but even if they did, they would only see a fancy piece of jewelry.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to watch the playback,” said Rowes, slowing as they reached the cusp of an alley they’d nearly kissed in before. There were only a few people outside, and it was getting dark, the sun peeking just over the edge of a few low buildings.

Some of the scenes had to be shot at night, and they were just getting prepped for that, but luckily, they were done for the day. Maybe everyone else would be on pause until the director had her way.

Leaning against the brick, he dragged Izzy to a stop. The rugged blocks were warm from the last of the summer’s sun, keeping any possible chill from the impending night away. “I thought you would have wanted to watch yourself fuck my mouth with your tongue.” He licked his lips with exaggerated slowness. “I can still taste you.”

“Fuck.” Izzy’s grip went tight enough to bruise as he cast a look over his shoulder before dragging Rowes deeper into the alley. There were no lights in the spot, and most of the daylight was blocked. Their company was a single dumpster that reeked of piss and rotten fruit. The cricket beneath their feet went silent as Izzy pushed him against the wall, his hands rough.

“What are you going to do?” Rowes should have been looking for people, but he was caught in Izzy’s gaze. He’d never seen him so frazzled or close to his limit. And he couldn’t help but wiggle his ass and push that much more.

“Get on your knees.”

Rowes bit his lip, peering at the ground as Izzy flipped their positions and pushed Rowes between his legs. He was hard, his loose jeans doing nothing to hide the evidence.

I did that. Rowes grinned, reaching for the zipper on Izzy’s jeans and running his nail down it. His cock jumped at the touch as if it could spring free and touch him on its own.

“Strike one. Get on your knees. I won’t ask again.” Izzy’s voice was strained as he clenched his hands into fists.

“What are you going to do if I don’t listen? Spank me?” Rowes giggled softly, a rush of adrenaline going straight to his head as Izzy wrapped a hand around his neck, forcing him to his knees with brute strength alone. When he hit the gravel, Rowes barely felt the sting of contact.

Rowes rocked as he was released, shuffling ahead until Izzy’s zipper was only inches from him. Licking his lips, he held Izzy’s gaze, dragging his tongue slowly back and forth.

“Strike two,” said Izzy, gripping Rowes’ hair and jerking his head all the way back. He was bent over, his position every bit as Dominant as he was. “I should get you another collar so I can tie you to the bed and make sure you never leave.” He touched the bracelet with his free hand, pulling it harshly.

At this rate, Rowes was going to have permanent bruises on his wrist. The tug stung, but he relished it, letting out a moan as something sparked within him. He’d been off all day, but now he was high and floating, Izzy consuming every bit of his thoughts.

Something crashed beyond the alley and Rowes jerked back, moving to his feet as Izzy straightened. Their surroundings flitted into awareness as Rowes huffed, the smell of garbage and old piss suddenly overwhelming.

“Not here.”

Nodding, Rowes swallowed, adjusting himself the best he could as Izzy did the same. The walk back to hotel was going to be so fucking awkward. He tugged his T-shirt down as far as it would go, and it just barely covered his bulge.

“When we get back to the room, you’re mine,” said Izzy, slinging his arm casually around Rowes’ shoulders as they stepped out of the alley. He had the sense to nod at a nearby intern who was bustling around so quickly that her cheeks were flushed from the heat.

“I’m looking forward to it.”