Page 80 of The Actor and His Secret

When the kiss ends, I lay my forehead on his and exhale a breath full of all the tension I’ve ever held. ‘I love you, Oliver Honey Cane.’

His reply comes so quickly, he practically interrupts me. ‘And I love you, Nikos Adonis Ridge Drakos.’

‘That’s a mouthful,’ I reply.

‘You certainly are.’

I open my eyes a millisecond after Oli’s hands begin fumbling with the buttons of my trousers. His gaze is aglow with desire and want, matching my own. He doesn’t need to tell me with words what he wants from me. I see it as clear as day. But Oli, ever the best at words compared to me, parts his pink-tinged lips and says, ‘take me to bed, Adonis.’

I swallow hard. ‘With pleasure.’

I deserve happiness, as does Oli. It’s a feeling so overwhelming in this single moment that I can’t help but wish it for everyone in the world, my father included. Whatever happened to him to poison his heart and ruin his soul - what cruel circumstance broke him enough to allow for him to become a monster - I pity him for it.

He had love in his hands in the form of a woman who was the best I’d ever known. My mother. And he crushed it. But as I guide Oli to my bedroom, his eyes fixed on me, his hand in mine, I know that I would never jeopardise what he and I have.

Regardless of how the world reacts to my ‘little secret,’ it was worth it. I’d give it all up to simply exist in the same space as him.

Oli is not only my secret - he is my love and my honour. And for him, I’ll face the world with a confidence as bright as the sun. Because nothing has the power to eclipse this.

My new world. My new life.

We stand at the end of my bed with its pristine sheets and plush pillows. Oli’s mouth is on mine, my tongue twisting alongside his. With eyes closed, and our hands touching, we undress one another - one piece of clothing at a time, until a puddle of material waits at our feet. I break away long enough to lift the t-shirt over his head, but it gets stuck. We fall to the ground, laughing.

I’m completely overcome with joy.

Once we’re bare, I draw him up onto my lap, working his legs over my thighs until our chests are pressing together, my back into the rug. Oli arches into me, my hand tracing down his spine, conjuring shivers across his skin. I nip at his neck, kissing his throat tenderly. Oli is so frantic that his hands barely stay in one place. Nails score at my back, leaving marks in my skin just as my kiss does with his neck and shoulders.

By the time we’re done here, our stories will be written onto one another’s bodies.

At some point, we move from the floor to the bed. In a cloud of duvet and pillows, we lose ourselves. Oli’s mouth is on my cock, sucking me, proving his early statement of me being a mouthful. I offer him the same pleasure, taking him onto my tongue, palming his balls as we fit ourselves together like a puzzle.

His groans of pleasure encourage me. I’ve never wanted to make someone lose themselves before, not like this. With him, I want to hear every beautiful sound come out of his mouth - regardless of if his moan of pleasure are muffled by my cock in his mouth.

I spit on my fingers and reach behind him. I could find his centre without sight. As I press the tip of my finger against him, Oli shivers.

‘Do you like that, Honey?’ I ask, circling his entrance, knowing that a single move would make him buckle from ecstasy.

Oli doesn’t answer with words - instead, he takes my entire length in, burying my cock down his throat until there isn’t an inch left dry. He heaves around it, the sound sparkling a feral reaction in me. Blinded by the pleasure of his throat rubbing over my bell-end, I take my wetted finger and plunge it inside of him.

I almost come in that moment. I have to practice the control of a monk just to stop myself from finishing.

Oli is so tight against my finger. He’s clenching purposefully, telling me with his body just how incredible he will feel once I put my cock inside of him. So, partly rushed and partly desperate, I snatch his hair and withdraw him from my cock.

‘Sit on me,’ I command, lying down on the bed, head propped up by two pillows.

Oli does as he is told, clambering over my hips, knees bending. ‘Are you going to fuck me dry, Adonis?’

‘Yes, but not today. Your hole needs training for that kind of feat. If you want, though, we can practise. We have all the time in the world.’

Oli’s brow peaks, his eyes mischievous as his grin. ‘I would take you up on it, but I need you in me now, Adonis.’ He offers his hand and gives me a one worded command. ‘Lube.’

Not one to disappoint, I reach into the side drawer and retrieve an - almost full - bottle of lube. The milky liquid is thick, the kind with a slight tingle to it. Oli notices that some has been used.

‘I believe the Brits call it a ‘posh-wank’,’ I tell him.

Oli laughs, the sound rumbling across the room. ‘That involves a condom, you fool. But I do like the idea of you touching yourself.’

‘I prefer when you do it,’ I reply, watching as he pumps four measures of lube into his palm. He discards the bottle amongst the mounds of bedding and reaches behind himself. Pleasure overcomes me as he begins working the liquid across my length. ‘However, one day, I’d very much like you to make me kneel, wank over my face, and cover me in your come. If that sounds like something you’d be interested in.’

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