Chapter Three
Of course he's a porn star , I muse as I try to gather my wits about me.
Dmitri is kind of a legend at The Grove.
One of those doms all of us subs and switches would sell our souls to do a single scene with.
Not only because he is hotter than the sun —which he definitely is, with his shaggy beard, undercut hair, and intricate tattoos all over those massive arms— but also because he's known for his exceptional attention to detail and aftercare.
The Grove, being the exclusive establishment that it is, is known to have a high calibre of patrons to start with, but Master Dmitri is the cream of the crop.
And I'm about to have sex with him.
On camera.
I am so fucked, and not in the way I want to be…though I guess that will happen as well. If I can make it that far.
I've got the hugest crush on this Dom and it's been a while since I've had another person's hands on me, so...
This is going to be the shortest porn scene ever.
I'm already getting hard just from looking at him. I'll come the second he touches me, I just know it.
As Dmitri leads me over to the table where I'd signed my contract, I try to formulate words that aren't 'fuck' and 'me'. My mouth is dry and my thoughts are spinning. The fact that his Sexy Santa costume leaves very little to my imagination isn't helping me.
"So, how long have you been going to The Grove?" he asks as he pulls up one of the folding chairs and spins it with a casual ease that makes my stomach swoop. I stifle a groan when he sits on it backwards, powerful thighs straddling either side of the metal frame of the chair's backing.
Lucky fucking chair.
No...wait. I'll be the chair soon enough.
God help me, I might just come in my onesie untouched at this point.
Hang on, did he just ask a question? He did, didn't he? Focus, Miles.
Clearing my throat, I manage to answer, "Um, a couple of years."
His dark eyes rake over me again, making me feel exposed despite the thin fabric clinging to my body. I shiver, even though it's warm in here. "Dom, sub, or switch?" he asks.
"Sub," I answer with a little more confidence this time. At least until he gives me a sexy smirk and I'm back to teetering on the edge of 'Holy fuck, he's so hot, I'm going to come' like I'm thirteen and not thirty.
Folding his arms over the top of the chair, he cocks his head. "How come we've never done a scene together? A couple of years is a long time not to cross paths. Especially in such a niche community."
That would be because I was too shy to approach you.
As tempting as it is to be honest and tell him exactly that, I just shrug. "You're in pretty high demand."
"Hmm." He pierces me with that intense stare again and I fight the urge to drop to my knees in supplication. "I can't help but think you'd also be popular at the club, too. A pretty boy like you is bound to get snapped up quickly."
My cock twitches under the compliment and it's all I can do not to whimper.
It's too much to hope that he won't notice, especially when I'm still standing and my crotch is basically at his eye level. Dmitri's lips quirk again. "So, you enjoy praise, then." It's not a question.
I nod anyway. "Yes, Sir." It’s not my favorite title for a Dom, but it’s more universal than the ‘Daddy’ that I prefer to use.
I guess I made a good choice, seeing as his eyes gleam. "Oh, good boy."
This time I do whimper, and I reach for my dick, hoping to do something to calm it down. I can't get cum —or even precum— all over this costume before we start filming.
"Tsk-tsk," Dmitri reaches out with one of his drool-worthy tattooed arms and gently curls his fingers around my wrist. "No touching, darling boy. Save it for the scene."
Ohhhhhh my god.
I find myself squirming and whining. "I...I...I..." My cheeks are on fire, the embarrassment of being so insanely hard under the bright lights of the studio, surrounded by people going about their daily jobs, is doing strange things to my nerve endings.
"Take a breath for me," Dmitri instructs, but his tone is patient and gentle. "Good. Now, what were you saying?"
"I'm" —I swallow roughly— "I'm really close to coming already."
It's humiliating to admit, especially to him. To my club crush. My experienced porn partner to be. But that just seems to make me more excited. I put that down to being a weird nerve thing.
"Can you tell me why that is?" he asks calmly and without judgment.
"Um," the part of me that thrives on praise wants to give in and be honest. But being honest means confessing my crush, and I don't think I can do that...although my stomach gets that pleasant twisty-coiling sensation at the renewed burst of embarrassment at the idea of it.
Dmitri arches an eyebrow and opens his mouth, then frowns. "I didn't get your name."
It's such a non-sequitur that I'm thrown out of my hazy, hyper-excited state almost instantly. "What?"
"Your name, sweetness. I didn't get it."
"Oh." I blink. In all the whirlwind of knowing who he was, I guess I didn't think it was important to introduce myself. "Um, it's Miles. I'm Miles."
"Miles," he repeats, as though he's testing the weight of my name on his tongue...and, oh God, why am I now thinking about his tongue? Thankfully, he distracts me by asking, “What’s your screen name?”
“Oh. Uh,” I start to blush and squirm again, “Miles Deep.”
He snorts. “Well, it’s better than Rod Steele. That’s mine, by the way.” I file that away as he tilts his head again and presses, “Is Miles your actual first name?”
“Yeah, it is. But, uh, the assistant who was helping me fill in my contract…they suggested Miles Deep. I can’t take credit for it.”
He chuckles and glances around the room. “That sounds like a Jamie idea.”
“Is Jamie the assistant with the blue hair?” He nods and I grin. “Then, yeah. It was a Jamie idea.”
After a beat, Dmitri asks, “Have you calmed down now, Miles?”
I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something in the way he says my name so directly that has heat pooling in my belly again. Clearing my throat, I bob my head. “Y-yeah.”
And there goes the eyebrow again. “Miles.”
Fuck.
“I…I am. I just…”
He sits up straighter, arms still folded, the jacket straining against his biceps. That realization isn’t helping my case as he waits in silence.
I sigh. “It’s been a while for me,” I finally admit, “and you…” I lick my lips, flames of embarrassment licking up the back of my neck and making the tips of my ears burn. “You’re you.”
“What does that mean?” I can’t read his tone, but his stare is so sharp that I swear I feel it going straight through me.
“Th-the reason I’ve never approached you at the club…” Am I really doing this? My dick strains against the rough fabric holding it prisoner, seemingly loving my discomfort, the traitor. I swallow. “You’re my club crush.”
“Your” —he hesitates, and I want to die of mortification at the amusement I can see him trying to hide— “club crush.”
There’s no question there, but I nod anyway. “It’s…it’s silly, really, but I have this crush and, I don’t know, I just…” I flap my hand wildly in the air in lieu of actually finishing the sentence.
“You were too shy to talk to me.” Yeah, there’s definitely amusement in his tone now. “Darling boy, that’s adorable.”
While the praise does all sorts of predictably wonderful things for my libido, the embarrassment from this whole exchange is also making me hot under the collar.
That’s either new, or I’ve never noticed how excited a little bit of shame can make me.
Maybe because I’m usually balls deep in a scene with a Dom by the time any awkwardness hits.
“Well, you get me all to yourself today,” he continues when I have no clue what to say. Then he snorts and gestures around the studio, “If you ignore the cameras and the crew, at least.”
“It’s not all that different to being at the club sometimes, is it?”
I think of the few times I’ve indulged in scenes with open doors, where other club members could watch or jerk off to whatever punishment my doms doled out.
Come to think of it, those times had carried a similar thrill to the spikes of nervous arousal I felt when I was embarrassed.
I guess I’d actually liked being on display.
“Not really, no. Especially if you think of Jake as another Dom, barking orders from his cushy director’s chair.”
I grin, glancing over to the diminutive man with the clipboard. “He did have Dom energy,” I admit, making Dmitri laugh.
“Yeah, he does. But he’s not actually our kind of kinky, as far as I know. Though he’s done his research. It comes with the job, I guess.”
I watch as Jake checks his watch and I realize I am probably about to be thrown in the deep end. “Speaking of the job,” I hurry to try and prepare as best as possible, “do you…I mean, are there any things you want to do for this shoot? Things you want me to say or do?”
“I want you to enjoy yourself,” he answers simply, then picks up the dossier at the table, flipping through the documents inside.
I recognize my own handwriting. “Your hard limits are pretty much the same as mine,” he adds after a beat, looking up at me seriously.
“But I also don’t like breath play, just so you’re aware. ”
I nod, then gesture at his outfit, “It would be off-brand for Santa to choke someone —or be choked— anyway.”
“Because it’s not off-brand for Santa’s beard to be brown and gray, or for him to be covered in tattoos?”
“Sexiest Santa Daddy ever,” I mutter, before my own words catch up to me. My blush returns with a vengeance. “I mean—"
“Oh,” he interrupts me, grinning widely now, “Santa Daddy, huh? Do you like that better than ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’?”
“I don’t mind either of those,” I hedge, and regret it immediately when he gives me the look again.
“Miles.”
“Yes,” I admit after a long beat, squirming a little as I do. If we were already playing or in the middle of a scene, I’d expect to be punished for the hesitation. For not immediately correcting my behavior. “I like ‘Daddy’ better than those other titles. It feels…more personal, I guess.”
“The Grove has a regression space. Are you a Little? Middle?”
I’m already shaking my head before he’s even finished asking the question.
“No, age regression isn’t my thing. But…
well, I do have a Daddy kink. I like Daddy doms. And you…
I mean, you look like the perfect Daddy Dom, y’know?
And by all accounts, you act like one. I mean, that’s what I’ve heard from some of the other subs.
But I won’t call you Daddy if you aren’t into that. I know it’s not everyone’s thing.”
“As long as you’re comfortable with it, I’d like it if you called me Daddy during our scenes,” Dmitri smiles warmly up at me, not seeming at all perturbed by my nervous ramble. “I know a lot of subs and Littles believe the name has to be earned, and I respect that.”
My heart gives a funny little squeeze and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that between my crush and his reputation, he’s already earned the title…
but that feels like it would be crossing some kind of line when we’ve only just met, so I shrug.
“I’m comfortable with it.” It’s actually a dream come true. “Do you think Jake will mind?”
“Jake just needs us to last long enough to get him at least half an hour of decent footage.”
“Half an hour?!” And now I’m back to being concerned about my stamina.
He chuckles. “We can come a couple of times in that window. Ideally, we’ll perform for about forty-five minutes and then they’ll edit it and polish it into a proper twenty-to-thirty minutes.”
Not for the first time since I realized that I’d actually turned up to the wrong audition, I wonder what happened to the guy who should have been in my place. Would he have been better prepared to film forty-five minutes of sex with the hottest Santa ever? Probably.
But this has to be some kind of holiday season miracle, because that guy hasn’t shown up, and I am about to experience something I have fantasized about for the past couple of years.
“I’ll do my best,” I say, cringing at how lame the words sound.
But Dmitri just gives me another one of those soft smiles, the skin at the edges of his eyes crinkling. “Good boy.”