The force of the knock startled Jeremy from his slack-jawed examination of the lunch spread on his…his…dining table. He started to say come in, but didn’t get further than the “Come—” before the door flung open, and Kit shot inside. Vision tunneling, Jeremy froze as Kit crashed into him, bringing him down on the industrial carpet and rolling him to his back. Staring up at Kit’s flared nostrils and the strip of pink coloring each tan cheek, Jeremy breathed in shallow pants from his nose.
“Fix me,” Kit growled.
“F-fix you?”
In answer, Kit ground his erection against Jeremy’s thigh. “Fix it.”
Years of personal physical denial came to a screeching halt as Jeremy gazed into a wide canyon. On one side, he knew who he was…and controlled it. On the other, he knew who he was and lived it. Owned it. Gathering himself in the face of raw opportunity, he leaped, grew wings, and crossed the divide.
“You’re not broken.” Jeremy watched as Kit’s competing emotions gathered to form a storm cloud of frustrated anger at the reply.
Grabbing either side of Jeremy’s shoulders, Kit shook him. Demanded, “Do something.”
Seizing opportunity and control, Jeremy bucked. Used force and surprise to roll Kit to his back. He dipped low and sucked Kit’s lush bottom lip into his mouth. Savored spicy sweetness and tender flesh. In a nuzzling motion, he coaxed those lips apart. Slipped his tongue slowly inside and delved deep as he slid his thigh along the insistent ridge of Kit’s erection.
A choked sob welled from the back of Kit’s throat. He arched his chest, exposing his neck, and Jeremy recognized the moment he gave over everything. Relishing the heady wave of power, Jeremy suckled along the column of flesh, leaving a trail of love marks along golden skin. Dipping his tongue in the hollow at the base of Kit’s throat, he moved lower to explore hard muscle and taut nipple with his tongue. Swirling around pebbled flesh, he found the nub of tissue and nipped. Kit hissed. Clenched both sides of Jeremy’s head and held him there. Registering the response, Jeremy moved to the other nipple and scraped his teeth along the root, then sucked hard.
Kit choked and issued an incomprehensible plea that ended in the word “lower.”
Dimly, he realized he had Kit Harris underneath him. Begging for it. The realization fueled the feeling of power low in Jeremy’s belly—built it from a snapping fire into a raging inferno—as he tugged down the band of Kit’s sweats. Slow. Deliberate. He removed the cock sock and raked the material over the weeping head of his cock. Exposing only the round ridge of sensitive flesh, he dipped low and captured the salty fluid with a flick of his tongue. There then gone, he teased Kit with the lightning-fast touch. Here was something he knew how to do better than Kit—better than almost anyone.
Kit arched, reflexively seeking more.
Bunching material in his hands, Jeremy yanked down. His arousal slammed hard at the sight of Kit’s long, perfectly helmeted, angry-red cock. A thick blue vein twisted from the base to just under the ridge. Compelled, Jeremy breathed in the tang of Kit’s scent as he dipped to make a flat-tongued journey from base to tip along the steel ridge of satin flesh.
“Yes.” Kit hissed the word and grasped either side of Jeremy’s head as he surged upward.
Flattening his tongue against the crown, Jeremy closed his eyes and popped the head into his mouth in one slow sucking motion. Using suction, he pulled Kit into his mouth one swallow at a time until he bumped the back of his throat. With his fist, he grasped and pulled down in a practiced twisting motion as he bobbed low again, widened his throat, and took Kit as far back as he could.
Kit—hands grasping harder, hips pumping in short, sharp motions—undoubtedly saw stars when Jeremy swallowed, convulsing the back of his throat repeatedly. A string of shouted curse words made Jeremy’s balls tighten as Kit jerked beneath him. Under his fingers, he felt the surge of energy as his costar came. Bursts of viscous fluid hit the back of Jeremy’s throat, and he swallowed in greedy gulps. As Kit’s shudders died, Jeremy backed off, loosened his grip, and gave one last lick to the delicate skin along the seam of Kit’s balls.
Kit dropped his hands from Jeremy’s head to land with a soft thud at his sides. He appeared to drift on a sea of languorous bliss. Loath to disturb such peaceful repose, Jeremy stood and went into the bathroom, where he yanked off the cock sock, took a wad of tissue and a pump of hand cream, and briskly set about remedying his own situation. His cock in a state of sustained arousal, he hissed in pain at the first stroke down his shaft. Bending his legs, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, positioning himself to make efficient work of the job.
The lotion heated as he slid his fist over the head of his cock and squeezed on each stroke to catch the sweet spot. His stomach muscles quivered with the effort to stand and breathe as he savored the thought of Kit’s mouth on his cock. So hot. Tight. Imagination proved even more powerful than the tug of his fist as a vision of Kit swallowing him down made Jeremy slam his head backward. He stifled a cry and finished himself with leg-shaking force.
Pulling up the sweats, he hissed in a breath as the sensitive head of his cock brushed against the material. The idea of putting that sock back on made him cringe, and he wondered if he had to. Who cared if a few crewmembers saw him completely naked? Intent on asking Kit what he thought, he emerged from the tiny bathroom and stopped short in the living area at the sight of the empty floor. Turning, he looked toward the bedroom. Empty.
A void opened in the pit of his stomach, and he sat on the leather sofa to catch his bearings. He picked at the grapes in the bowl on the table next to him, popped one in his mouth, and chewed halfheartedly. What had he expected really? A loving interlude as he and Kit basked in the afterglow? Shaking his head, he stood and went to the sound stage.
He stepped onto the bustling set and looked down at the bed. Someone had straightened the covers. Everything lay neatly in place as if this morning’s filming never happened.
“Hey,” Kit said to the crew as he loped onto the set with easy grace and natural confidence. With an unstudied nonchalance that said he’d never had his cock in Jeremy’s mouth, Kit looked at him and asked, “How’s it goin’?”
Barely avoiding an eye roll, Jeremy huffed out a breath. “Fine. Thanks.”
The makeup people flitted onto the set and cornered them both for a touch-up. Jeremy saw when Kit’s artist paused and tsk-tsked at the marks on his neck. Eyes widening, Kit shot a what the fuck glance at Jeremy as he raised tentative fingers to touch his damaged skin.
Jeremy closed his eyes and pretended not to notice. By the time he opened them again, Kit had taken his mark, and Jeremy had to skirt around him to get into position on the bed. They were doing close-ups on the back of Kit’s head and on Jeremy’s face for these takes, so the camera operator stood close.
“The boom’s too low,” the camera guy said to the sound guy.
With the mic over his head and the camera in his face, Jeremy wondered how in the world to shut them out enough to be able to mime the expressions he knew he had to make. The ones he’d undoubtedly just made in his trailer… Oh shit!
He nearly sat up to ask for a minute, but the director said, “Action.”
Everything happened so fast. Kit yanked down his pants, and then Jeremy’s cock was simply there. In his face. Turning three shades of red, Kit shot from the bed.
“Not cool, dude!” the actor hollered and stormed off the set.
Jeremy yanked his pants up and had that awful feeling of dreaming he’d gone to school or been in a play naked. Except he really had.
“Sorry,” he said, feeling as lame as he sounded. “I forgot it after lunch.”
Greg gave him an acerbic stare, but the director chewed on the sides of his mouth, trying not to laugh.
“Someone haul the prima donna’s ass back here before I cut him a half-day’s pay,” Greg said, then strode to Jeremy and got in his face. “Go get it. Do that again and I’ll hand you a pink slip.”
“I-I didn’t…” Jeremy started to stammer but realized he almost broke a cardinal rule against excuses in acting and finished with a whispered, “Sorry.”
On his way to his trailer, Jeremy caught Kit coming back into the building with a soda.
“I forgot,” he said, stepping in front of Kit. “I’m sorry. It was unprofessional.”
Kit popped the top on the can and swallowed down half of the drink as he considered him. Mesmerized, Jeremy watched his throat work the liquid down. Finished, Kit wiped his mouth and said, “Next time, don’t leave marks.”
Watching Kit’s retreating back, Jeremy murmured, “Next time?”
Turned out next time meant every day—sometimes twice a day—over the next week. Before every school-based sex scene, Kit wanted Jeremy to “fix it.”
“Why’d you want me to blow you?” Jeremy asked one day after working the kink out of his jaw.
Kit rolled his head to the side and opened one eye. “So I can focus during filming.”
“Seriously?” Jeremy lifted his head. “You mean so you don’t get a boner?”
The scenes on the sound stage had long since ceased to titillate Jeremy. Too much stop and go. Too many people watching. Lines to remember and ridiculous facial expressions to mime. And the sounds he had to fake? Those were the worst. Nobody made those sounds. Did they?
Flipping to his stomach, Kit sat up on his elbows. “Whatever.”
“I don’t get hard. Why d’you?” Jeremy asked. “You’re not even gay.”
Though he said the words, he didn’t really believe them. Kit, at the very least, had bisexual leanings. Probably tending toward gay. Either that or he had a blowjob fetish, and as Kit’s character pointed out in the film, being a guy, Jeremy just knew “how to do it right.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t anymore.” Kit shrugged. “I just don’t want to take the chance.”
On Monday, the rest of the cast would be there and the sex scenes would end until they went on location in Connecticut. If Kit only needed him to keep himself from getting a cock stand in front of the crew, Jeremy wouldn’t see him in his trailer again for several weeks.
Jeremy glanced above Kit’s head. “Will you do me?”
Hooting a surprised laugh, Kit shook his head. “I’m not gay.”
Jeremy scowled. For four days running, he’d serviced Kit, then felt like a used tissue as he watched him walk out the trailer door. “What am I? Your bitch?”
“No.” A wary hesitancy entered Kit’s gaze as he recognized the thin ice he stood on. “You’re gay. I’m not.”
“Is that why I make you so hard?” Jeremy asked, verbally pushing Kit’s back against the wall.
“No offense.” Kit stared at the wallpaper as he spoke. “I mean I’m sure plenty of guys think you’re hot, but it’s the contact.”
“The contact?”
“Sure. Anybody’d get hard if someone touched them like that.”
“Kit, you came to me,” Jeremy pointed out. Frustration high, he refused to give Kit an easy out. “It’s always you going after me. That’s about as gay as it gets.”
Pushing to a sitting position, Kit scrambled for his robe. They’d been filming a shower scene today. It didn’t involve any touching, but it also involved zero clothing after the first five minutes.
“Not so fast.” Determined to make his point, Jeremy grabbed Kit’s arm.
A fist swung toward him. Years of homegrown training kicked in, and he ducked as Kit’s arm grazed his face on the follow-through. The power behind the punch threw the actor forward, and he lost his balance as Jeremy grabbed to restrain his arm.
At the physical contact, something in Jeremy snapped. He’d never lashed out in anger. Violence sickened him. That abhorrence morphed into something ugly in his desperation to defend himself, and he pushed Kit to the floor. He snarled into his face, “You are a motherfucking coward.”
“Get off me!” Kit bucked upward.
Adjusting, Jeremy straddled Kit, increasing his dominance. The actor’s cock began to harden between them. Painfully erect himself, with no promise of relief in sight, Jeremy ignored the display of arousal. As far as he could tell, the guy always had a hard-on.
“You ever come to me again for a blowjob?” Jeremy leaned into Kit’s face. “You’re paying first. And I don’t mean with money.”
Kit snorted.
Bending low, Jeremy blew hot breath into the shell of Kit’s ear as he rumbled the words, “I’ll ream your ass.”
Kit’s voice cracked as he shoved at Jeremy’s chest and said, “Get off me.”
“Fine.” Jeremy loosened his grip and sat back, feeling more like Greg in that moment than he ever had. “Go. Just remember the consequences if you decide to come back.”