Page 45 of Ship Wrecked

Carah:Forget our show, this is fucking ENTERTAINMENT right here

Maria:???

Peter:???

Alex:::continues pouting::

Marcus:...

Marcus:Fine, we can listen to Mötley Crüe on our way to the studio if you’ll *stop pouting*

Alex:BEST DAY EVER!!!

Marcus:Just FYI, I don’t brood, manfully or otherwise, and I don’t pout

Marcus:I sigh

Marcus:::sighs::

Alex:DON’T SIGH, OR I’LL SING ALONG TO DR. FEELGOOD

Alex:To be fair, I’ll do that anyway

Marcus:::sighs again::

11

“Cut!” Ramón peered down at his cell. “Good work, you two. Let’s take a half-hour break while Ron and R.J. glance over some of today’s footage. And for our next take, unless they have a different suggestion, we’ll start at the point where Cyprian rolls Cassia onto her back and kisses her neck. Okay?”

Peter nodded his agreement, then carefully—oh so carefully—removed his hips from the cradle of Maria’s thighs without dislodging the pillow placed there. The blessed pillow that had prevented utter disaster and epic embarrassment on his part as they humped away at each other for what seemed like millennia, even though it had only been two days so far. Two days of glorious torture, all caught on camera.

With a quiet thank-you, he shrugged on the robe Jeanine handed him, shoved his feet into flip-flops, and directed his gaze somewhere, anywhere, other than Maria’s gleaming, near-naked body as she got up and donned her own robe and slippers.

Don’t look at her bare breasts. Donot,Reedton.

It wasn’t as if they weren’t already burned onto his retinas anyway. For life, most likely.

At various points, the scene had called for him to stare at those stupendous tits, to cup them as they shone in the firelight, slickened by the rosewater-glycerin spray meant to simulate coitalsweat. After six years, they were maybe a little fuller than they had been, a little lower on her ribs, and more gorgeous than ever.

Seeing them again was a gift. So was seeing the rest of her long, curvy body.

Their first night together—their only night together—he hadn’t known. He hadn’t known that would be his one time in Maria’s bed. He hadn’t known to slow the fuck down and savor the sight of her beneath him, her hair tangled around his fist, her cheeks flushed, her body naked and open.

Due to his newly rigorous masturbation schedule, he’d kept things professional on set. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire her in those moments when the script directed him to look at her, to touch her. That didn’t mean he couldn’t draw from his own passion and tenderness to fuel Cyprian’s, and find a bittersweet joy in doing so.

And since the filming was drawn out over a long week, since he wasn’t lost in a haze of mindless lust as he’d been their one night together, he’d had ample opportunity to imprint every moment in her arms on his memory. Which he’d done, gratefully.

But seeing her again, near-bare and unashamed, wasn’t only a gift. It was also a torment.

For six years, he hadn’t had her in his bed, and after this week, he never would again.

Unless she still wanted him.

Because yes, the show was almost over for the two of them, and the pain of that realization practically leveled him every time he let himself consider it. And yes, no future role would ever offer him the sort of extended time in her company this one had. But once they’d finished shooting their last scene, they were free.Hewas free.

From that moment on, their relationship couldn’t endanger the set’s camaraderie or put his career at risk in any way. Whichmeant, if she longed for him the way he pined for her—and sometimes he could swear she did—they could be together. Finally. In all the ways those dirty, dirty fics on AO3 had envisioned, and also as a committed couple.

Not yet, though. Not until they were entirely done filming. Which they weren’t, so he really needed a snack and some water before their next take.

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