Page 45 of His Every Move

“Really? Wow. Well, rejection is just redirection. Maybe you had to be turned away from all the other roles because the role that’s about to make you is coming up.” He reached over and casually placed his hand on my leg, gently squeezing.

“That’s… really nice. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve been able to see it that way.”

He put it so simply. It cut through all the negative emotions, the self-sabotaging, the boohooing.

Rejection is redirection.

The royal blue curtains rose, and the lights dimmed in the theater as the show officially began. It started with a campy singing number that had the main actor swinging from a giant disco ball. It was an entertaining way to start the show. I would have appreciated it more if Benji’s hand wasn’t resting on my leg, his fingers awfully close to my crotch. I stretched my legs and readjusted myself in the seat, and his hand magically landed directly between my legs.

He started to rub. My cock throbbed at the attention. I glanced to my left, but the man sitting next to me was completely engrossed in the show.

Benji squeezed. Pleasure made my toes curl inside my sneakers. The stage and the actors and the entire theater started to disappear. All that was left was Benji’s hand on my stiff dick, slowly rubbing it through my jeans.

He leaned toward me and whispered, “This okay?”

“Mhmm,” I responded, making my cock push up against his palm.

I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the performance but my attention focused on my cock. I placed my hands on top of his, holding the playbill, giving Benji a little more cover. I didn’t want someone getting up to use the bathroom and spotting the way Benji’s hand was massaging my cock through my jeans. I bit my lip, trying to keep my breathing even, but fuck, he knew what he was doing. His fingers traced slow, teasing circles over my length, pressing just hard enough to make me ache for more.

On stage, the cast launched into a big ensemble number, but my focus was completely shot. Every nerve in my body was trained on the way Benji’s palm cupped me, squeezed me, the slow stroke of his fingers edging me to full-blown desperation.

I glanced at him. He wasn’t even pretending to watch the show anymore—his gaze was locked on me, lips slightly parted, expression smug as hell.

Fucking tease.

I shifted in my seat, gripping his wrist to still him before I lost all control and started grinding up into his hand like some desperate cock-hungry whore. “Intermission,” I whispered, my voice tight with need. “We’re finding a bathroom.”

I had enough theater decorum for that, at least.

Benji smirked. “I like the way you think.”

The second the house lights came up for intermission, I grabbed his hand and tugged him into the aisle. People were already stretching, standing, chatting. No one paid us any attention as we slipped toward the back of the theater and out into the lobby.

I led him toward the restrooms, my pulse hammering, cock already straining against my jeans. The men’s room was busy, but I spotted a single-occupancy stall toward the end. I yanked Benji inside and locked the door. The walls of the stall went all the way to the floor, so we didn’t have to worry about getting called out.

He barely had time to lean back against the wall before I was on my knees, fumbling with his belt, popping the button of his jeans, yanking the zipper down. “Fuck,” Benji breathed, his hands pressing into my hair as I shoved his jeans down just enough to free his cock.

Thick. Hard. Heavy.

My mouth watered at the sight of it, the flushed tip already glistening with precum.

I licked my lips, then ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft, slow and deliberate, savoring the way his cock twitched under my touch. Benji let out a low groan, his fingers tightening in my hair. His scent flooded through me. Manly, musky. Made me even more hungry for his taste.

“Eli,” he rasped. “You’re fucking perfect.”

I hummed against him before parting my lips and sinking down, taking him deep, letting the thick heat of him stretch my mouth. His taste flooded my tongue—salty, intoxicating.

I started slow, hollowing my cheeks as I bobbed my head, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, the warmth of his cock in my mouth. He cursed under his breath, his hips jerking slightly as I took him deeper, inch by inch, until the tip nudged the back of my throat.

The door rattled slightly as he braced himself against it, breathing heavily. “Jesus, Eli.”

I moaned around his cock, the vibration making his hips buck. He barely caught himself from outright fucking my mouth, his fingers flexing against my scalp, torn between letting me work him at my own pace and giving in to the obvious need clawing through him.

I flicked my tongue along the slit, tasting his precum, and then took him deeper, sucking hard as I relaxed my throat. His thighs tensed. His breath hitched.

“God, you’re gonna make me?—”

I sucked harder.

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