10. Graham
GRAHAM
THEN
March, Year One
A classic film flickered on the screen in my movie room. Miguel’s checkered socks drew my attention away from it when he wiggled his toes in my lap. Our physical relationship had evolved from goodbye kisses to handsy make-out sessions, but he was only willing to part with his shoes.
He had seen all of me. The first time I stripped down and dove into the heated pool, he had a moral meltdown and demanded I wear swim trunks for the sake of modesty.
What could I say? There was freedom in being naked within the privacy of my home.
Someday, I would persuade him to join my exclusive bare-bottom club.
I turned my head to ask about his thoughts on exhibitionism and found him watching me with a thoughtful expression. “I’m sorry if my perfectly symmetrical face is distracting.”
“Whoever told you that lied,” he said.
“And I should believe you because you dabble in symmetry?”
“Believe what you want. It’s your face.”
He leaned forward and swept popcorn crumbs off my chest. Because I was shirtless, it was obvious that my nipples hardened from his touch.
“You were mouthing the words again,” he said.
“Yeah, I tend to do that with my favorites.”
“How many do you have?”
I counted on my fingers. “A few hundred, give or take.”
He uncrossed his ankles, a movement I interpreted as an invitation to massage his feet. “I watched some of your old interviews. You never explain why you became obsessed with films.”
It was the question I refused to answer honestly in interviews, offering the standard response of being a kid who loved movies instead.
While the truth stemmed from a deeper place, I never felt comfortable using my platform to earn sympathy points.
My childhood struggles weren’t nearly as traumatic as what other kids had endured.
“My parents argued a lot. Not screaming matches or anything, but they bickered nonstop. I was too young to do anything about it, so I’d play outside or watch movies to drown out the noise.”
“Two things that bring you peace,” he mused.
“And back then, a break from the constant discord.” I dug my thumbs into the arch of his foot. “After a while, I’d watched enough movies to ruin the illusion. I started paying attention to everything but the actors. That’s when the continuity errors became obvious.”
An embarrassing ritual performed by ten-year-old me came to mind, and my face warmed. “It’s kind of silly, but I pretended to be the director called in to reshoot scenes and make them perfect. My bedroom was a soundstage, action figures were the cast members, and I kept journals of my edit notes.”
A soft smile graced Miguel’s lips, and he rested his cheek on the back of the sofa. “You became a student. I don’t think that’s silly at all.”
“Maybe not. When I got a video camera for my thirteenth birthday, I knew filmmaking was the career for me.” Stopping my story there, I grabbed his other foot and asked, “Do you have a favorite movie?”
He shrugged. “Not really. There’s one I liked about a rookie detective who spends a lot of time with his shirt off. The eye candy was nice, but the acting wasn’t anything to write home about.”
My grin was instant and wicked. I invaded his space, and he scooted backward until he ran out of sofa and I was on top of him, nestled between his thighs. “Have you watched my entire filmography, Miguel?”
His haughty chin jutted in the air. “I had to know if you were cheating and using any of those lines to seduce me.”
Humming, I mentally scrolled through the scripts I’d memorized over the years, settling on one from a romantic drama. My voice dropped to a sexy rasp when I said, “Make no mistake, when I seduce you, your body will leave you no choice but to surrender.”
“That one’s really bad.” He laughed, but judging by the way his cock swelled, he wasn’t unaffected.
Another line came to mind, one that hit closer to our truth. “The day I first saw you standing barefoot on the shore, I knew I was looking at my future.” My hips were grinding, and we were both hard.
“Ch-cheater.”
“One more.” I pressed my lips to his ear. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
Miguel’s laughter cut off, and he pulled back to look at me. “You’re being serious.”
“Dead serious.”
My only attempt at a relationship ended before it started.
A year after I moved to LA, a guy I liked found someone whose star was rising faster than mine.
The rejection served as a hard lesson in being used for my status, and I was glad to have learned it early on.
I was also relieved my agent at the time was a stickler for NDAs because that guy would’ve talked.
Once I landed my first major movie role, relationships fell to the bottom of my priorities list. Besides, no one I met had been worth risking my career for, until Miguel.
“Are you asking me to commit so I’ll finally have sex with you?” He slid a finger beneath his collar. Because I had him pinned to the couch, his fidgeting options were limited.
“I’m asking because I want us to be exclusive.”
“Like I would even consider being with anyone else.” Miguel punctuated the statement with an eye roll, and something greedy and possessive slithered under my skin. It fled when he added, “But…”
“But what?”
A lock of hair tickled my eyebrow. He brushed it aside, letting his fingertip graze my hairline, a ghost of a touch, and the tickle shot to my dick.
“We don’t make sense, Graham.”
“I think we make perfect sense.”
“That theory hasn’t been fully tested.” His voice took on a timid quality, becoming quieter, like it did any time we had conversations that made him uncomfortable. “We get along, and I’m obviously attracted to you, but what if we’re not compatible in bed? It could be the dealbreaker.”
“If you want to test theories, all you have to do is ask.” I toyed with the top button of his shirt. Both of us were still hard, and I gave a little thrust to remind him of that fact. “Are you in?”
Wariness lingered in his gaze, but he bit his bottom lip and nodded.
I unfastened the button at his collar, followed by the next one and the next as I kissed my way down his neck and chest. A mole on his sternum earned a hello from my tongue, and my nose appreciated the coarse hair on his pecs.
Once I reached his stomach, I glanced up.
His eyes held tension at the corners, and his mouth resembled a thin slash of discomfort.
I crawled up his body and dropped gentle kisses around those perfect, peachy lips. “If you’re not ready, we can wait.”
“It’s not that.” He ran his hands along my bare shoulders and down my arms, coaxing a shiver. Any touch from him lit me up. “You’re you, confident and fit with those ridiculous abs, and I’m—”
“Gorgeous? Yummy?”
Turning away, he spoke to the navy walls, dim lights, and black-and-white film on the screen. “I’m me, squishy and shapeless and boring.”
Braced on a forearm, I grabbed his smooth jaw and brought our mouths together, thrusting my tongue while rolling my hips.
Letting my body convey the admiration and attraction my heart felt for him.
Before long, he was moving with me, one hand buried in my hair and the other clinging to my ass.
We were locked in—hips, lips, and firm grips—and almost forgot to breathe.
The grinding slowed and stretched. Each torturous drag of my cock along his heightened the friction and my need.
“Graham.” My name was a warning and a prayer coasting on his exhale as my wandering lips found the pulse in his neck.
“Feel how hard I am for you. I’m dying to get on my knees for you.”
He pushed against my shoulder. “Do it, then.”
My knees hit the carpet before he sat up, legs spreading wide. Our fingers clashed in a battle to free my prize from his pants. He worked the button. I worked the zipper. Shimmery, turquoise fabric caught my eye before his thick, uncut dick took center stage, flushed red and begging to be devoured.
I dragged my tongue up the underside of his shaft, savoring the flavor and feel of him.
When I slid the foreskin back and teased his frenulum, lust exploded in his pupils, holding me captive as I took my time discovering what made him gasp and grunt.
My mouth and hand work in tandem, and my other hand joined in the fun, cupping his balls.
“Suck on them,” he commanded.
Fuck. Yes. Take charge of me, darling.
I groaned, licking along the seam before drawing his balls between my lips, sucking and releasing each with a pop. My dick wept in my sweatpants as I writhed, thrusting against nothing. The smirk on Miguel’s face surprised me and stoked my fire. I squeezed the base of his cock and took him deep.
“Jesus,” he hissed, shoving a hand in my hair. He gripped the strands and tilted my head back. “Look at those fucking lips. I knew you’d be good at this.”
A deep, dirty moan rumbled in my chest. I relished the praise and the sting in my scalp as he took control and fucked my mouth. Saliva leaked down his shaft, and my slurping drowned out the movie in the background.
“So messy.” Miguel’s panting intensified, and his voice dropped to a low, strained rasp. “I’m getting close. Swallow for me, baby.”
Another loud moan told him how much I looked forward to drinking his cum and being his baby. That was the first time he called me a name other than Graham, and I claimed the endearment like it was my birthright.
Pride shone in his brown eyes. Approval burned even brighter. He tensed and let out a quiet grunt as warm, salty cum branded my tongue. I swallowed all of it.
“Fuck,” he whispered, head falling back as he sagged on the sofa.
I released him with a light pop and a boastful wink, sitting back on my heels to admire my handiwork: glistening cock, flushed face, boneless limbs, rumpled shirt unbuttoned halfway. The mess I’d made of him was a beautiful sight to behold.
Stretching forward, I planted a kiss on his parted lips. “So, what’s the verdict?”
He wrapped his arms around my neck and grinned like he’d been under anesthesia. “I think you love having a dick in your mouth.”
“Yes, I do. And as your boyfriend, I’ll take the job seriously.”
When my erection dug into this thigh, he trailed a hand down my stomach. “What about you? Need me to take care of that?”
I snagged his wrist and pressed my lips to the silky skin near his cuff. “I got what I was after tonight. You’re delicious, by the way. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
Pink stained his cheeks, and his dopey smile wavered as he looked away again. “I should get home. Early work meeting tomorrow.”
I hid my disappointment behind an understanding nod.
The worst part about being an actor and dating someone with a steady job was that I didn’t have him all to myself between film projects.
On weekdays, we only had a few hours to spend together because Miguel’s bedtime was ten o’clock, and he strictly adhered to routines.
While he buttoned his shirt, I gathered his shoes and slid them on his feet. He grunted like he was annoyed but didn’t stop me from dressing him.
After a long goodbye kiss worthy of cinematic awards, I stood on the porch while he started his car.
Miguel remained skittish about us. Whatever his doubts were, he kept them to him himself, but I hoped they had nothing to do with the demands of my job.
I was a busy actor with a packed schedule.
Even so, I was determined to make our relationship work.
Nibbling on my thumb, I stared at his taillights and wondered if we were in a relationship.
Things between us advanced physically that night, but his emotional blockade stood strong.
And he never said whether he’d be my boyfriend.
From what I’d learned about Miguel so far, he only answered questions and made moves when he was ready.
I didn’t mind, because I already knew he was worth the wait.