Chapter 21
Twenty-One
ALERIC
I expected something to change after my night at Camillo’s. Our souls were bared more than they ever had been, and I knew he felt it too. Things couldn’t just go back to normal after that, and I was a little in my head with worry because Camillo was acting odd.
Or, well. Not odd. He was acting the way he used to.
The morning after, he’d held me tight. We kissed, touched, nuzzled. It felt like I was home for the first time in years. Hell, maybe ever. We ordered breakfast, and he made sure that I was full and sated, and then he walked me to the door and kissed me long and thoroughly before I had to go back to my place.
Leaving him was hell, but there were new scripts sitting on my doorstep when I got in. That distracted me from the fear that I was being given something good because good things could be taken away.
I read them until I got a call from my manager, who had a bunch of properties for me to look at. Camillo was still recovering, so I didn’t bother asking him if he wanted to tag along, but I did send him photos, and he gave enthusiastic responses to my favorite pick.
I signed a lease after that, then gave my manager the okay to schedule movers. “It’ll take three or four days to get your new place ready. I’ll set up a hotel for you.”
I told Camillo that, secretly hoping he’d invite me to stay with him, but he just told me to have fun and that he couldn’t wait to see me again.
It was…anticlimactic and unenthusiastic, and I felt a sudden wave of panic.
What if he was bored? What if he was gently trying to let me know that seeing me in my snoring, sleep-farting glory, he was done with whatever this was?
I was too afraid to ask, so I threw myself into filming.
It was easy to ignore Christoph’s sudden bad attitude with me, and I managed to get through the scenes with Otis, which were tainted now that I knew the truth about Hugo. I still had no idea who the man was, but it was hard to look Otis in the face and pretend like I was having the best night of my life when I knew what Camillo had gone through.
But we got it done, and Otis was able to go back to being himself. We exchanged numbers and socials and texted every now and again. The scenes moved on—episodes were in the can. I got paid.
I moved.
I got a fish in a tank shaped like a globe, and I called him Fish. Camillo liked the photos of him and sent hearts with kissing faces.
But he didn’t come back to set. The lack of his presence was overwhelming, but only for me. No one else noticed—which, of course, they didn’t. Why would they? No one else had been assigned a babysitter the way I had. And no one had fallen head over heels for him either.
It was lonely. I was friendless and still at the mercy of my reputation, which I couldn’t escape no matter what I did. Every interview, every bit of press, it all came back around to my spiral. They all wanted to hear the gritty dirt about rehab and if I thought I was going to fall off the wagon as though it hadn’t always been entirely against my will.
We were six days into the last three weeks of filming when I realized I wasn’t sure I could do more after this. I was contracted for another season, and I had a few offers for films in other countries in the meantime that I needed to look at, but was this actually what I wanted?
Was clawing my way back to the surface only to stand there alone worth it?
By the time I was ready to crack, I hadn’t seen Camillo in six weeks. Every single time I typed out a text to ask him why, I panicked and deleted it. I left things as they were. If he wanted to see me, he would tell me.
Wouldn’t he?
“I need you for reshoots. We’re bringing Otis back in,” Christoph said, then took a long drink off his coffee. “Did you get the rewrites?”
I hadn’t. “In my trailer?”
“I’m going to need you to focus a little better, Aleric,” he said like I was five. His tone made the back of my neck prickle with an old, atrophied familiarity. My stomach roiled. “Be back on set in an hour.”
I hurried away from him, trying to control my breathing until I got to my trailer, but when I got there, an unfamiliar man was standing in front of the door.
You’re not in danger , I told myself. You’re safe. You’re fine.
“Mr. King?”
I stared at him.
After a second of my silence, he reached behind his back and produced a small, sealed package that I recognized. “I’m going to need a sample, please.”
Random testing had been in my contract. It had been a humiliating concession, but it was one I’d made because I wanted to prove that I was telling the truth. That I was always telling the truth. But over the long weeks, no one had ever bothered asking, so I just assumed I was fine.
Christoph was doing this as some sort of punishment.
I had nothing to hide, of course. I snatched it off him and elbowed him to the side before throwing my door open, and I didn’t try to stop him when he followed me in. I felt gross. Dirty that he was there in my space.
I wanted to scream and put my fist through the wall.
Instead, I shut the bathroom almost all the way, just like I’d learned to do in rehab, pulled my dick out, then pissed in the cup. I even gave it a cursory wipe down for the fucker who was right outside the door when I opened it up all the way.
He was wearing black rubber gloves and a smirk, holding a collection bag. “Thank you.”
I said nothing. His footsteps echoed like gunshots as he headed for the door, and when he was gone, I locked it behind him and collapsed against the flimsy metal. I would not let myself be sick over this.
I would not let anyone take this from me again.
This was my life.
Rolling my head to the side, I spied the envelope with the new script and forced myself to walk over. There were nine pages of new dialogue, and when I got to the end, horror stole over me. I realized what they were doing.
It was the one thing Camillo had been terrified of.
My fingers shook as I pulled out my phone, and part of me wanted him not to pick up.
But the universe had never been kind to me.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today,” he said.
He sounded happy to hear from me, so why was he staying away? Why had he cut me out? Why…why why why…
“Why aren’t you here?” I blurted.
He was silent for a long time, and then he took a breath. “They let me go.”
I felt like I’d taken a bullwhip to the back. “They what? When? How is…how is that possible?”
“The position was a courtesy,” Camillo told me, his voice low and rough. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
“Camillo—”
“Aleric, please don’t. It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t lie to me. Not you,” I begged.
He let out a soft, distressed noise. “A few weeks ago, they offered me a list of actors—wheelchair users—and a file link to their auditions. They said they had time in their schedule to replace you.”
I felt like I’d been doused in freezing water. I couldn’t speak.
“They told me I’d been right—that the role needed an authenticity you couldn’t bring, and they asked me to choose your replacement.”
“Who is they ?” I rasped. But I knew.
“Christoph.”
I had no idea why this man had it out for me. “Okay. So…who did you choose?”
“Aleric. No,” he said, sounding distressed. “No. I told them that as much as I stood by my belief that disabled roles should go to disabled actors, no other person could possibly understand me the way you did. He asked me if I was sure that you were perfect for the role, and I said yes…so he said if that was the case, my services were no longer needed.”
“Shit.”
“Mm. It was a trap, but I knew it. I wasn’t going to let you risk your job for one that I don’t even want.” He was quiet for a moment. “Did they fire you today?”
I laughed, the sound half-hysterical as I stumbled over to the couch and dropped down with a heavy thud. “No. They—I got a new script for some reshoots today. That’s why I was calling.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They’re bringing Otis back next season as the main romantic interest.”
The silence was painful, pressing, and loud.
“Does Christoph know?” Camillo eventually asked, his voice barely audible. “Does he know about Hugo?”
“If he does, it’s because that fucker came forward and contacted him,” I said. “But from what I’ve read, I don’t think so. They like Otis. He complies. He doesn’t complain like I do.”
“Like I do,” Camillo cut in.
I snorted. “Maybe. I don’t know what storyline they’re going with. I don’t know how they’re going to explain to the public why they took such a turn from reality, but it will make things complicated.”
“How?”
“Because I—” I stopped. I understood why Camillo wasn’t on set all this time, but why hadn’t he told me? Why hadn’t he wanted to see me? “Are we over?”
Camillo let out a tiny sigh. “Aleric?—”
“Just tell me, okay? I can take it. But I can’t take sitting here in limbo, not seeing you for weeks, not knowing what’s going on or how you feel. I thought—Jesus, I thought we were fine. We left, and things were fine. And then you just stopped coming around, and damn it, if I did something, please just tell me.”
“It’s not that,” he said softly. He took a breath. “If you knew that they fired me for what I said, you would have quit.”
“I—” I wanted to argue, but my temper was hot, and damn it, I was in love. He was right. “It would have been worth it.”
“No, my darling.” Those words cut me deep but in the best way. It had been a while since I’d heard them. “I need you to be me. I don’t care if the story is fictional. I want people to know who I am, and you can do that, even with a bullshit script.”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. “So you still want me?”
“Oh. Oh, my darling. It’s been hell not being able to touch you for six weeks. Fuck—what time are you done tonight?”
I felt a sudden, anxious rush through my body. I knew why he was asking. “Late. I have to do reshoots with Otis, and I’m sure Christoph will be doing his best to make my life hellish enough that I can’t sleep. He drug tested me today.”
“What?” Camillo sounded like he was taking up a sword to go to war.
Laughing softly, I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’ll test negative. I don’t care about that. But I miss you. So much.”
“I’m sending a car tonight. I need you.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if?—”
“No what-ifs. I need you,” he repeated.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?” He sounded unsure, like he wasn’t the one putting all the distance between us for so long. I almost laughed.
“Yeah. If you’re asleep, I’ll sneak into your bed and spoon you.”
“I’ll be awake,” he vowed. And goddamn if I didn’t believe him.
“…and kissing you might have been the best thing I have ever done.”
Otis’s voice rushed over me. I was dissociated from myself, the way I always was when I was in character, only this time, it wasn’t so easy. This time, I was in the skin of the man I loved—the man who wanted me.
I kissed Otis though. I cupped his jawline and drew him down and pressed my lips to his. On and on it went until I felt Otis stiffen like he was concerned.
“Cut!”
“What the fuck,” he whispered. “Why the fuck did they have that go on so long?”
“I don’t know.” Rolling back away from him, I turned to see Christoph smirking at me.
“I want to get that again from a different angle.”
“No.” I blinked in surprise as Otis spoke, straightening and folding his arms over his chest. “I know I haven’t been doing this a long time, but you don’t need forty-five minutes of footage of a single kiss. And I came back as a courtesy, but I’m not entirely convinced that making Raul the main love interest for season two makes a lot of sense.”
Christoph raised a brow. “As you said, you haven’t been doing this a long time, so I’m not sure your opinion is welcome.”
Otis looked down at me. “What about Prince Camillo? Has he been consulted on this?”
“He signed his rights to us, and everyone understands that there is some level of fictional storytelling involved in these shows. They’re not meant to represent a minute-by-minute experience. Otherwise, we’d have to shoot some scenes of Aleric shoving tubes up his limp dick.”
Otis’s eyes widened as I felt those words like a punch to the chest. “Is…is that meant to be a joke?”
Christoph, for the first time, looked a little uncertain.
“He’s the prince of Caverna, and you’re speaking about him that way?”
“We’re going to shut down for the night,” Christoph declared loudly. He stalked off without giving Otis a real answer.
“Is he for fucking real?”
I laughed as I stood, stretching my legs. My fingers ached to pull my phone out and text Camillo, letting him know I was ready for him, but I needed a moment. “He’s gunning for the both of us. I’m not entirely sure why.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Otis glanced off to the side, then leaned in and said, “My publicist put me in touch with this guy who claims he’s the real Raul.”
My entire body went cold. “What?”
“He said he was working on a book about his experience with the prince and asked me if I could give him some information regarding his character. He was…I don’t know. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Creepy, I guess.”
My stomach rolled with nausea. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing,” Otis said with a laugh. “I didn’t want to get fired. He told me Christoph wouldn’t mind, which I thought was really fucking weird because how would he know? Anyway, he told me that I could expect a bigger role in the future. That he and the prince had a secret thing that went on for a couple of years.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said, unable to stop myself.
Otis didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, he had total sociopath vibes, and I figured he was lying. But then Christoph called me in to reshoot these scenes, and then my agent told me to expect a contract next week, so…I don’t know.”
I needed to get out of there. “Thanks for letting me know. If I were you, I’d block his number.”
“Oh, trust me. I did.”
I loved Otis for that. We said a quick goodbye, and then I went to take off my makeup and change before texting Camillo. All I got was a little smiley face in return, but two minutes later, there was a knock on my door, and I opened it to find Cillian standing there, looking annoyed.
“Oh. Hello.”
His lip twitched. “I’m your escort for the evening. Don’t get used to it.”
“Noted.”
I moved to grab my bag, but Cillian did it for me. Part of me wondered if he was giving me a taste of what it would be like if Camillo and I really did make a go of this. My heart fluttered at the thought, even if the reality of it scared the literal piss out of me.
It was hard to dwell though. As we hit the streets in a large black car, I realized I was going to see Camillo again. I was going to touch him. Kiss him. Six long weeks of him being a dipshit and trying to protect me from myself, and he would be mine again.
The gates let out a loud groan, and then the car rolled past them—familiar now that I’d been there. We pulled up to the little side entrance to Camillo’s apartments, and Cillian held my door, then swiped a badge to let me in.
All that was left was the elevator to the third floor, which opened with a soft ding…
And there he was.
Camillo. My prince.
“Your Highness.”
He rolled his eyes as he gave himself a firm push forward, and he crashed into my legs, dragging me down to his lap before I could stumble and fall. His lips were against mine as I took a deep breath, and my exhale ended on a heavy groan.
Kissing him was everything. It was life. It was peace. It was a reminder I was wanted. He held me with a desperation that told me these six weeks had been hell on him too.
“You’re a jackass,” I said, pulling back.
He pinched my chin between his fingers. “I know. Kiss me again.”
It was an easy ask. His lips were pliant and warm, tongue demanding as it danced against my own. I felt him wheeling us forward, and I gave him all of my weight, my mouth moving to his neck to kiss him in one of the spots he liked best.
“Fuck, fuck. I need to feel you,” he murmured.
I lifted my head and realized we were in his room, rolling up to the side of the bed.
“Help me. I don’t want to wait another minute.”
He was a heavy, awkward weight in my arms as I lifted him, but the moment I set him on the bed, he was in charge again. He yanked me against him, shoving his legs apart with damn near frantic hands.
I rested my chest against his, rocking my hips against the bed as I devoured his mouth. It was too easy to lose myself in him—in the warmth and power of his touch, in the way he commanded me even as I pinned him to the bed with my body.
And he was firm and controlling in the best way as he got my fly open and my dick in his hand. “I’m going to make you come all over me.” It was an order—a decree. There was no room for argument or negotiation.
Not with the way he gripped me and began to stroke me like he was going to pull the orgasm straight from my body. And dear God, he meant it. He was relentless and fierce.
“That’s right,” he murmured into my ear. “Take it. Feel it. Let yourself go, Aleric. You are mine.”
My vision whited out. It had been too fucking long since I’d felt him, and I was too deep in to focus on what he needed. I managed to sink my teeth into the skin just below his ear, making him gasp and arch against me, but it didn’t matter.
I was too close.
“Coming,” I gasped. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I’m coming.”
“I know.” His hand sped up, and I was lost to him. The spill was hot, heavy, and thick. I couldn’t see, but I felt my cock pulsing. One of his hands curled into my hip and forced me against him, the last vestiges of my pleasure chased as I humped his soiled crotch.
I collapsed in a heap and caught my breath as he stroked fingers through my hair. “Holy fuck. I’m dead. I’ve died of orgasm.”
“Close, but no. I’m not letting you check out this early.”
Rolling my head to the side, I stared up at him. “You didn’t finish.”
He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t going to. Not tonight. So much of it is mental for me, and I wasn’t there.”
“I’m sorry. Was it me?”
He smiled gently and leaned in to press a kiss to my forehead. “My darling. No. And honestly, seeing you fall apart all over me like that is better than anything my body will feel.”
I didn’t know if that was a lie to make me feel better, but I wasn’t about to call him on it. I pulled away, then looked down and grimaced. His sweats were filthy—a dark patch right over his dick. He followed my line of sight and rubbed his finger against it.
“I should change.”
“Can I help?” My legs were still a little wobbly, but I climbed to my feet and stretched my arms above my head.
“Top drawer for new sweats. Cloths in the bathroom, second drawer on the right.”
I used the bathroom first, taking a long piss after peeling away all my clothes besides my boxers. Washing my hands, I stole some of his mouthwash and bent over the very short sink as I wet a cloth for him. I spit foamy liquid out into the basin, then sauntered into the bedroom and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, smirking. He’d gotten his soiled pants off, and he was fully naked from the waist down.
I caught a glimpse of his soft dick, of the catheter inserted, and the bag strapped to his thigh that was empty. This time, he didn’t shy away from me.
“You look so good like that,” he murmured, his gaze on my naked chest.
I didn’t answer right away. I grabbed a pair of sweats from his dresser, then walked over and dropped to my knees in front of him. He let out the smallest gasp.
“Better like this, right?”
“Mm.” His finger traced my jawline, then over my warm ear. “I like you all the ways you come, Aleric. So to speak.”
I scoffed as I ran my hand from his knee to his ankle, and then I squeezed. I knew he couldn’t feel it, but he was watching. “May I?”
He was silent for a beat, and then he nodded. “Thank you.” I knew this was a level of trust he didn’t give to most people, so I was careful. I didn’t hold him like he was made of glass. I held him like he was the most precious thing to me.
“Grab my shoulders,” I instructed. He did, and I lifted him gently to pull the sweats over the globes of his ass before easing him back down.
The spot beside him on the bed was still open, but there was something wholly soothing about kneeling between his legs and resting my cheek on his thigh. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as he stared, and I loved the way he traced my features like he couldn’t keep his hands off me.
“How was it?”
“Mm?” I wasn’t sure what he meant? The orgasm?
“Work.”
Oh. Yeah, that. The last thing I wanted was to disturb the calm we’d both worked so fucking hard for. I needed to tell him, but it would wait until morning and reality crept in. “Can we talk tomorrow? A lot happened, and I think we might have a problem, but I need this.”
“Aleric.”
“Please. Sir .”
He sucked in a breath, then finally nodded and pushed his fingers into my hair. “I can’t sit up for much longer, so for now, we can let it rest.”
I turned my face and rubbed it against his thigh. “Thank you.”
“I…of course.”
He said nothing else, but I swore in that moment, I could feel those three unspoken words hovering between us.
Soon, I told myself. I would tell him that I loved him soon.