Seth
There is no hotter sight in the world than my dick disappearing into Gabriel's ridiculously tight, yet also ridiculously hungry, booty hole. It's something I can only swing my gaze to every so often, because if I did it more, I'd come in no time.
"You were really great with that pig," he says, babbling away like always, having already dissected our castmate Keegan's latest tattoo, an article he read about underrated hiking spots in LA, the new coffee beans our favorite roaster has started using, and when RuPaul's Drag Race might finally wrap up.
The first time he started talking during sex, I stopped, thinking that he wanted to have a convo more than get fucked. When he said he liked doing both at once, I was thrown. I've only slept with a couple of guys and had only ever experienced some light dirty talk with one of them.
But Gabe isn't interested in "fuck me with your big cock" type chats, he'll happily talk about anything—the weather, scenes we've shot, updates on his brother's competitive skydiving career, anything.
I'm so used to it now that it doesn't throw me off my game in the slightest. I can listen to him and fuck the living daylights out of him without missing a beat. Thank you, thank you very much.
"You weren't so bad yourself," I grunt because while I can fuck and listen, I struggle with fucking, listening, and talking. There is only so much multitasking a man can do.
"Full disclosure, I was totally checking you out while you were talking to Tiffany when we got out of the pool."
"The producers will love that."
His mouth opens and brow furrows, almost as if he's about to correct me, but all that disappears when I hit his prostate, and he lets out an almighty roar.
I cup my hand over this mouth. "Shhh. We don't want anyone to hear."
How we've been getting away with this for years is beyond me. All the cast and occasionally, some of the crew live in the house. We've been super lucky, that's for sure, and no way in hell do I want that luck to run out.
I couldn't imagine not having this time with Gabe. And, yes, while it's the sex that brings us to each other's rooms late at night, it's the talking and cuddling and hanging out after that means the world to me. Hands down it's the most special, sacred part of my life.
He nods, and I move my hand off his mouth. He latches onto it and starts sucking on my fingers, directing those rich, come-hither green eyes at me, and this is very much a contender for the second hottest sight in the world.
"Gonna come if you keep doing that," I warn him.
The cheeky fucker has the audacity to cram two more fingers into his mouth, which, as forewarned, makes me come. As always, my whole body stiffens, and my jaw locks shut as my release floods Gabe.
I don't know why I orgasm this way. It's…unconventional, to put it nicely, and has freaked out other guys before.
But not Gabe. He's always let me be me, weird coming and all.
As I fill him up, he grabs his cock and joins me, his internal muscles contracting around me, milking out even more of my release as he comes all over himself.
He stares up at me, and it's moments like these where I have to work hard to pull myself back from the brink of saying something stupid like "I love you, and I want to be with you."
Because I know that as soon as I do that, the magic spell between us will be broken for good, and in no time at all, we'll be in the throes of a messy, soul-destroying breakup.
I've witnessed my parents go through that shit more times than I care to remember, so I know how bad it can be.
I cannot let that happen to me and Gabe. I love him too much to risk losing him.
"So, how's life back on the East Coast treating you guys?" I ask, sitting nice and close to Gabe on the world's most uncomfortable love seat, two cameras pointed at us.
Scooter and Cabot, last season's villains who surprised the world by falling madly in love, are sitting just as close to each other as Gabe and I are, smiling back.
"We're doing great," Scooter replies, grinning from ear to ear. "You guys should come for a visit."
"Scooter's hiring for his new vet clinic," Cabot adds, which earns him a playful kiss from Scooter who's positively radiant. I worked with the guy for six seasons, and never have I seen him so happy.
My heart twinges, wishing for that kind of happiness for myself, painfully aware that the person sitting less than a few inches away from me could give me all that. And more. If only I let him in.
But I can't. I just can't.
"We'd love to. Wouldn't we, baby?" Gabe leans in, his cheek brushing softly against mine.
The word baby caught me by surprise when he said it during filming yesterday, but Riff absolutely loves it and keeps reminding Gabe between takes to continue saying it every now and then.
"Sure would," I say, taking Gabe's hand and lifting it to my mouth.
I have been thinking, though, and maybe this showmance storyline isn't so bad after all. It's got all the hallmarks of a real relationship, but because it's not, there's no way it'll end in heartbreak.
Actually, scratch this isn't so bad. This could very well be a genius move, the hack someone as messed up as me needs. The closest thing to an unfailable relationship there is.
A fake relationship by day. Incredibly hot sex by night. All with the best person in the world—my Gabe.