Operation 18 Off Script
Cassidy
Cassidy learned fast that movie sets didn’t know how to be normal especially when something was wrong, and now Xander was back in the middle of it.
The production crew dressed the space to look like the interior of a weathered ranch house with rough, plank flooring, a half-open bedroom door, dusty curtains, old family photos, an oak sleigh bed, low amber lamps, and a wide fake window with a painted night beyond it.
Xander was back on set but under a tight new protocol.
Yesterday had changed things. After Ruxs and Green lost their only active lead and irritated the LAPD, God required that everyone tighten up.
No more casual risks or assumptions.
The rest of Xander’s meeting had been finished over Zoom from the hotel. Jesse didn’t like being on a ‘need to know’ basis with her client, but she understood his safety was priority.
Afterward, they’d used the hotel to run countless simulations.
Day charmed hotel management into cooperating, as they ran drills through the lower level, executing lobby crossings, restaurant exits, public approach, paparazzi clusters and split-second evacs.
He could tell Xander hated it, but he’d listened, asked intelligent questions, and never once complained or pulled an entitlement card.
By the end, Xander was exhausted, but he’d still sat with Free and Tech for another two hours while they walked him through the new security system being installed at his house.
State-of-the-art didn’t cover it. Free had designed a system that was sophisticated enough to protect the White House.
“I just wanna feel safe in my own house again,” he’d said quietly.
Tech leaned forward, voice gentler than Cassidy expected. “You will, I promise.”
Later, they’d eaten a late dinner together in the suite.
Xander wore loose lounge pants and a pale cashmere sweater that made him look younger as he’d sat with one leg curled beneath him in the oversized chair.
He asked him about his embassy work, why he’d chosen security, and why he’d chosen a cat instead of a Doberman or Rottweiler.
He’d told Xander more about himself— the nights overseas, the thanklessness of security work, the quiet nights alone—than he’d told anyone else in his life.
Not everything. But enough.
Xander made sure to thank him multiple times before he went towards his bedroom.
He’d gazed up at him with those blue eyes, blinking as he whispered against his cheek, “I’m so grateful it’s you, Cassie.”
He’d wanted to tell Xander he was grateful too…every time he looked at him like that.
That was how far gone he already was.
Instead, he’d murmured into his thick hair, “Get some sleep, Lane.”
By the time he’d finished working on his laptop, reviewing God and Day’s reports, updating the security rosters, and approving payroll, Xander had fallen asleep on the bed, with one creamy thigh peeking from beneath the crisp sheets and a hand tucked beneath his head.
Cassidy stood there staring much longer than he should have before he removed his T-shirt, turned off the light, and crawled into bed behind him.
Xander stirred enough to find him, then eased back into his chest, sighing in his sleep, his warm, solid body molding against him.
He slid one arm around his waist and held him there, staying awake several hours after Xander had drifted back into dreaming.
He told himself he was in Xander’s bed for protection.
But in his heart, deep down, he knew it was far from that now.
Cassidy stood near the side of the soundstage with God, Day, and Steele while they briefed him on the new staff.
Steele had cut eight of his men from the roster in two days.
The enforcer had watched Cassidy’s guys during drills and dismissed the ones who checked their phones, stepped out of their lanes, postured for an actress, or failed to communicate effectively during a disruption.
Within a week, West Protective Solutions had lost several employees but gained a handful of replacements God and Day vetted.
His company was in capable hands. For the first time since this mess had begun, he could focus solely on Xander without tracking every issue in his own company.
Steele was responsible for perfecting perimeter drills. Day worked on their crowd reading while God focused on reaction formations.
“They’re improving,” God said, gaze cutting toward a group of agents posted near the stage entrance.
Cassidy grunted. “High praise.”
“From him it is,” Day said.
Cassidy’s focus drifted to Xander at the side of the stage, where the stylist misted him and roughened his hair until he appeared flushed, disheveled, and dangerously sexy.
The upcoming scene was an intimate one between Xander’s character and Arthur, played by Wyatt Stanis, an actor with too much confidence and charm.
Wyatt had been hovering near Xander all morning.
Laughing at any little thing he said, touching his back and shoulder when he spoke. Saying little flirty things that could pass as playful to an unsuspecting man.
Xander handled him with professionalism, being polite but distant enough to keep the line crystal clear.
A production assistant hurried past with a clipboard. “Closed set in five.”
Nonessential personnel began to leave. The intimacy coordinator, a soft-spoken woman named Rena, stepped onto the bedroom set and spoke with Wyatt and Xander in a hushed tone.
Cassidy turned his back before Xander removed his robe. He wasn’t interested in watching him film a romantic scene with another man.
He understood it was acting, knew the difference between performance and real life.
But knowledge didn’t make it easier.
Especially not after he’d tasted those lips, caressed his body, and held him in his arms while he’d slept.
Day glanced up at him. “You good?”
“M’fine.”
The director called, “Quiet on set.”
The stage fell silent.
“Roll sound.”
“Roll camera.”
“Camera rolling.”
“Scene one-twenty-six, take one.”
The clapboard snapped.
“Action.”
At first, Cassidy did pretty good ignoring Xander’s character speaking to Arthur in a sultry whisper and Wyatt answering in an annoyingly smooth voice—until the dialogue was replaced by shallow breaths.
Cassidy stiffened.
The scene turned erotic quickly.
The sound of sheets rustling filtered across the set as Wyatt’s deep moans blended with Xander’s soft ones.
“You want me, say it,” Arthur demanded.
“I do. Yes Cass…”
Cassidy whipped around. So did God.
Day’s brows shot up.
Even Steele’s toothpick went loose in his mouth.
It wasn’t loud, barely more than the first syllable of a name that didn’t belong in the scene.
Xander froze over Wyatt Stanis with one hand braced on the pillow, the other gripping the sheet.
The warm lights overhead highlighted the dark flush climbing his throat. Wyatt stared up at him, confused for half a second, before he tried to lean back in for another kiss.
Xander recovered badly.
“A-Arthur,” he stammered, trying to bend the word into place. “Arthur, I…”
“Cut,” the director yelled.
Xander scrambled off Wyatt as if the bed was on fire. His face was beet red, eyes wide with the kind of mortification that made everyone look at him with pity.
Elliot hurried over with Xander’s robe.
He took it with both hands and pulled it around himself. He tied it with jerky movements as he muttered something to Rena, then hurried toward his trailer with his head down.
Ruxs and Green rushed after him, falling into their protective positions as Xander crossed the stage. Ruxs took the outer lane, while Green covered the rear.
Shock had Cassidy still pinned in place.
“Morrison,” God muttered.
Cassidy blinked before his body caught up, and he began crossing the stage.
Ruxs was already at the tail end of the trailer when Cassidy reached it and Green was standing on the opposite side of the door, arms folded.
Ruxs threw him a shit-eating grin that made him want to slap it off. But he needed to get to Xander.
Cassidy jogged up the three steps and tapped on the door.
When he got no answer, he went inside and closed the door behind him, leaving Ruxs and Green on point outside.
The trailer smelled like wardrobe steam, expensive soap, and Xander.
The small space was dark with the blinds half drawn, the vanity lights muted around a mirror cluttered with makeup brushes, bottled water, tissues, marked script pages, and a half-eaten plate of fruit.
Xander stood near the far counter with his back to the door, robe wrapped tight around him, with one hand covering his face.
Cassidy locked the door.
For a second, he said nothing.
He crossed the space slowly, not stopping until his chest was against Xander’s back. “Lane.”
Xander made a small, strangled sound. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“You slipped.”
“I said your name in the middle of a scene. A sex scene.”
“I know.”
Xander
Xander didn't understand why his mind had betrayed him so violently, but the truth was he’d been fantasizing about Cassidy all day.
Every time Cassidy was near him, scanning the crowd with that steady, protective focus, before landing back on him, he’d felt a pull in his groin that was growing harder to ignore.
He was so desperate for him, aching for a touch that went deeper than the surface. But, Cassidy had been playing it safe, moving at a glacial pace that drove him insane.
A soft, rhythmic tap sounded at the door, before it opened and closed, then followed by the snick of the lock.
Xander didn't move, he couldn't bring himself to face the man he’d just accidentally outed.
He listened to the heavy, measured tread of Cassidy’s boots on the floor growing louder until the heat of his body radiated against his back.
Cassidy didn't say a word at first. He pressed his big chest firmly against him and held there.
Cassidy leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of his ear, voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent a shiver straight to his balls.
"Lane."
The use of his real name, spoken with such intimate gravity, broke the last of his resolve.
Before he could gasp a response, Cassidy gripped his shoulders and spun him around.
He cupped his cheek, his rough thumb stroking over his skin, while he wrapped the other arm around his waist, hauling him in tighter.
Cassidy crashed their lips together in a kiss that was all claim. It was deep, intense, and hungry.
He melted, his moan swallowed by Cassidy’s mouth as their tongues clashed and tangled.
The scratch of Cassidy’s beard was a delicious friction, and he tasted of coffee and a mature masculinity that made Xander’s head spin.
With a sudden grunt of effort, Cassidy hoisted him up, lifting him as if he weighed nothing, and set him on the wardrobe counter.
Xander spread his legs wide, and Cassidy didn't waste time working open the tie of his robe.
He slowed for a moment—as if he wanted to savor this part—as he pulled each side apart, exposing his soft chest and stomach.
Cassidy buried his face in the crook of his neck, licking a hot path along his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy."
Xander let out a broken moan of pleasure, dropping his head back until it hit the mirror.
"You've been thinking about me, haven't you?" Cassidy murmured roughly against his skin.
Fuck yeah he had.
Xander was rock-hard, his cock straining against the modesty garment he wore for the scene. The need he’d been feeling for weeks was an ache, a void that he only wanted Cassidy to fill.
"Yes," he whimpered, digging his fingers into Cassidy's broad shoulders. "I think about you all the time. Day and night. Long before you started protecting me."
Cassidy pulled back enough to look him in the eyes, his expression dark and greedy.
"If I cross this line and I taste all of you, I won’t stop.”
"Yes, please, god yes," Xander begged.
Cassidy reached down and stripped the garment away, freeing his length.
He didn't go for his cock immediately. Instead, he began to lick his inner thighs, tracing his tongue around the curves with a reverence that made him feel sexy as hell.
Cassidy hefted one of his legs onto his shoulder, exposing all of him to the cool air and the heat of his gaze. And he felt no shame under those worshipful eyes.
Cassidy swirled his tongue around his balls, lapping at them with slow, deliberate strokes before he opened his mouth and took the head of his cock inside.
Cassidy groaned around him as he swallowed him deep, the heat of his throat enveloping him in a tight, wet vacuum that made him arch his back.
He tried to keep the loud, guttural moan from escaping, but the pleasure hit low and vicious, instant enough to steal his restraint.
He’d been pining for this so long that the realization of finally having it was almost too much.
He reached down and tangled his fingers in Cassidy’s messy black-and-gray hair, pulling him closer, needing him to take more.
The suction was perfect, the warmth of Cassidy's mouth a stark contrast to the frigid air blowing in the trailer.
It wasn’t long before he began to shake, his breaths coming in ragged hitches.
As if he sensed his peak coming, Cassidy squeezed his thighs hard, his fingers bruising his flesh as he increased the pace, bobbing his head with an urgent rhythm.
"I'm... I'm gonna—" Xander groaned, voice breaking.
Cassidy didn't pull away. He bore down, burying his nose into his pubic hair, sucking with a final, desperate intensity that made Xander squeeze his eyes shut.
Waves of pent-up need and pleasure overcame him, his body convulsing as he came so hard he had to shove his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming and alarming anyone nearby.
As the tremors settled, Cassidy stood slowly, but he didn't pull away. He buried his mouth in the crook of his throat and let out a low, satisfied groan against his skin.
"There. That should help you get through your scene," he whispered, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “And you might remember to pretend it’s Wyatt on that bed…and not me.”