Page 51 of Salacious Star

"What, baby? Are you sore?" I teased, though my voice was a little too husky for it to be convincing.

He nodded, his eyes glazing over a little as he thrust back against me. "A little," he admitted, his voice breathy.

I hummed, then pulled him in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet.

"We'll have to wait until after the next shoot before we spend more time together, then," I said when I pulled away. I tightened my grip on his ass possessive, just for a moment, before I released him and used the same hand to cup his jaw gently. "I don't know how to keep my hands off you when we're together."

The flash of disappointment on his face made warmth squirm in my stomach all over again, and then he let out a wry little chuckle. "Yeah, same."

I nodded, my thumb stroking his cheek, rough with stubble. "But...you do? Want to see me again?"

He calmed, and there wasn't a hint of doubt in his expression as he looked at me. "Yeah, Tris. I want to see you again." He shifted a little, catching his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment before he finished, shy, "I think that this...could be real. Between the two of us. And I want to find out."

I couldn't stop myself from letting out a groan of relief, and I leaned down to kiss him one more time before resting my forehead against his.

"Thank fucking God," I mumbled. "Me too."

He giggled, kissing me one more time, and then he rolled out of my embrace, stretching and letting out a soft sigh before looking at me again, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I know that you're king of Italian dinners, but how are your breakfast skills, big man?"

I chuckled, propping myself up on one hand as I looked at him. God, I was already such a goner for this man. "I'll see what I can make happen."

He grinned, quick and mischievous, and I fell for him, just a little bit harder.

22

Xander

As much as I didn't want to leave Tristan's house, I knew that if Ididn'twe would spend the rest of the day actively fucking and getting each other off, and I hadn't been lying when I had told him that I was sore.

Not enough that I wouldn't have gone for another round - or seven - but I didn't want to walk into our next shootalreadysore, especially after the scenario that Dorian had written for us last time.

I didn't know what I was walking into, so as much as it killed me, I went back home and spent the rest of the day picking up and cleaning, and steadfastlynotthinking about Tristan.

When I walked into the Studio Black building the next day, though, I could already feel anticipation building inside of me for the shoot ahead of us. I might not know what Dorian was going to ask us to do, but every time we were together, Tristan made me feel safe and sexy and wanted, so I had no doubt that this time was going to be exactly the same.

I nodded at Dorian and Emmett when I made my way through the set - another college dorm looking set, this time - and smiled when Dorian flashed me a quick smile before returning his attention to his husband. Emmett had his hand wrapped around the back of Dorian's neck, and the way that they looked at each other was so full of love and mischief that it almost made me ache.

They were so fucking cute. And a tiny, traitorous voice in the back of my mind whispered, wondering if Tristan and I were going to look at each other like that five, ten, fifteen years down the road.

Assuming that we made it that far.

I had a good feeling.

That good feeling carried me into my dressing room and let me float through hair and makeup, and then the quick process of getting myself prepped for the scene. The script for the day was sitting on the vanity in front of me by the time I was finished, and I tucked my bare feet underneath me - my "costume" for the day was a pair of loose sweats and nothing else - before picking it up to look at the scenario that Tristan and I were going to be portraying today.

Before I could read more than a few lines - and snort at the blatant cheesiness of them - there was a sharp rap on my dressing room door, drawing my attention.

The door opened before I could call for the intruder to come in, though, and I was surprised to see Brandon slip into my dressing room, dressed in a graphic t-shirt and a baggy pair of jeans that made him look even smaller than he already was. The ensemble was topped off with boots that I was fairly certain were steel-toed and looked way too fucking big for him, if not for the ease that he walked in them with.

His dark hair was mussed, and his tongue toyed with his lip piercing as he looked at me, offering a quick smile.

"Hey," I said, a little confused. I set down the script and turned my full attention to Brandon, cocking my head to the side. "What's up? You're not scheduled for this shoot?"

I couldn't help the way my voice tipped up at the end of the sentence in confusion, and Brandon chuckled, approaching and leaning against the vanity of my dressing room. "No, I'm not here to fuck you, baby star, don't you worry about that," he teased. "Tristan's the only one who gets that honor."

I couldn't help the way that my shoulders relaxed a little, and then my eyes widened at the amusement that flickered over his face. "Not that...I mean. I'm sure...you're very attractive, Bran, and..."

He snickered, waving off my excuses with one hand. "God, you really are so fucking cute. I understand why he's smitten with you."

---