This is not how Kieran pictured their first time. In a bed, yes, but on a set, in front of at least 20 members of the crew that they’ve known for five years now, in front of huge, burning lights--it’s just not how he pictured it. But if this is the only way he’s ever going to get to do this with J., then he’ll thank his lucky fucking stars that he even gets the opportunity.
While the scene is still being set up, they’re laying in bed, giggling and whispering in each other’s ear.
“You better not have had that onion bagel with the garlic cream cheese this morning,” J. whispers. “I may just quit the damn show right here and right now if you did.”
Kieran blows into her face like a real menace and she laughs, waving him away. “Fresh as a daisy. I even downed a few breath mints a few minutes ago. Nothing but the best for you, my darling.”
“Oh, well, aren’t you just the most chivalrous man in Paris,” J. says, and although he realizes they’re still just joking, he can still hear the tiny strain in her voice. She’s nervous, and he knows that because he is, too.
They’re in Paris for the filming of Connor and Willa’s wedding, because of course they are. Kieran has been to France plenty of times, between Mac living there for years and Jazz’s fascination with it, but he still kind of hates it. Possibly because his first memory of it is being dragged here by his dad and the rest of the kids back when they still pretended to do family bullshit together. Really, his father was there to buy an exotic horse (with Mac’s money, of course) that was like a grandson of Secretariat or some shit. Kieran doesn’t have pleasant memories of the place. But being here with J. and being thrown into this situation together is helping wipe out the bad thoughts with brand new happier ones.
Yesterday they filmed a scene where they were dancing at the wedding. Gerri was the one to ask Roman to dance--he was surprised, but obviously agreed to accompany her to the dancefloor. It would definitely be a lie for Kieran to say he hadn’t enjoyed holding J. in his arms for half the day. And it would be a lie for him to say he didn’t notice that she seemed to enjoy it, too. Even with a tight-fitting dress and the highest of heels, having to get her hair refreshed and make-up reapplied after every scene, J. always stepped right back into his arms with the warmest smile on her wonderfully expressive face.
And tonight is the extension of the dancing scene--the morning after scene. There’s another kissing scene they have yet to film. Kieran sort of wishes they could do that one before jumping right into bed together, but maybe it’s easier this way. Rip the Band-Aid right off.
Jesse asked them a few weeks ago if they wanted an intimacy coordinator on the set for this scene, and Kieran had looked at J., because he knew his answer but he didn’t know what she felt about it. They hadn’t talked much yet about these scenes coming up, except to acknowledge they were happening and everyone and their grandmother would be talking about it for months.
There was just too much hidden right under the surface to actually recognize it and admit why they were nervous. So they didn’t. They’re good at this--after all, they’ve had the last 20 years to perfect their denial skills.
“I think we’ll be okay without one, don’t you, Kieran?” J. had said, and Kieran nodded enthusiastically, pleased and honored that she felt the same way he did. Knowing that they both trusted each other, that they’d have each other’s backs, that they could orchestrate this themselves. “Thanks for asking, though.”
Jesse nodded, too, and looked as though this answer did not seem to surprise him at all.
Now, Kieran squeezes J.’s hand, and she squeezes back. They look at each other, both of them laying on their backs, and giggle one more time.
“Are you ready?” Kieran asks, and he’s trying to be sincere, he’s trying to get past the humor of what they’re about to do so he can make sure J. is still okay with what’s happening. “We’re really doing this.”
“We sure are,” J. says, nodding. “I’m good, Kier. I’m ready. Are you?”
“I was born ready,” Kieran can’t help but say, and J. laughs. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable. Please let me know the second you aren’t. I’m serious.”
She runs her fingers over his knuckles, and he has to bite back a shiver. “I know, baby. You’re very sweet. It’s going to be okay, though. And I trust you, and I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he whispers. They’ve said it to each other before, of course. But the way best friends say it to each other--when they’re drunk, when they haven’t seen each other for a long time, on their birthdays, etc. It’s a dangerous phrase for them, because it always means something else. Something different every time they say it.
“Try not to be nervous, honey. We’ve got this. And you’ve kissed plenty of people onscreen before!” She pokes him in the arm.
“Yeah, but none of them were you,” he says, and he watches the expression on J.’s face as it turns from amusement to--something he can’t entirely define, actually.
And that’s when Mark walks over and says, “Ready? We’re good to go.”
J. and Kieran say yes, they’re ready, and the P.A. comes by to collect the robes they shrug out of before the scene starts. Kieran is shirtless and J. is wearing a camisole with thin spaghetti straps. Kieran has been thinking about those straps all day.
Mark calls action, and Kieran instantly turns the switch from himself to Roman.
Gerri is sleeping on her side with Roman holding on for dear life behind her, his leg intertwined with hers and his arm flung across her stomach. On the bedside table, there’s a ding of a text alert on his phone. This wakes him up, and he is pleased to find that Gerri is still in his arms. He kisses her bare shoulder, his hand curling around her side.
Gerri groans a little and then turns over to see Roman grinning at her. She laughs and runs her fingers through his hair, her hand settling on his cheek.
“Best morning of your life, huh?” She teases him.
“Well, there was the morning that I met Scarlett Johannsen at a buffet in a Las Vegas casino, so definitely a solid second or third best,” Roman says.
Gerri ignores him, and pulls him closer to her. She leans in and kisses him softly.
“Sorry about the morning breath--” Roman tries to say, but she kisses him again, this time her tongue languidly moving its way into his mouth, and his tongue returning the favor.
Kieran is a professional. Like J. said, he’s kissed a lot of women (and some men) onscreen and it’s barely pinged his radar. But this is J. His J., who he’s known since he was a teenager, who has been one of his best friends for years, who his feelings for are, and always have been… complicated. This is different.
Obviously he knew that kissing J. for the first time--a real kiss and not just a peck on the lips--would likely stir up many different emotions, but he still wasn’t prepared. He couldn’t have been prepared. It’s exhilarating. It’s breathtaking. It’s intoxicating. Even with an audience, on a set, bright lights in his face--it’s overwhelming.
Overwhelming in the way she’s slowly running her hand down his shoulder and forearm, from the little moan she lets out when he meets her tongue, to the way her cheeks turn bright red when they eventually part. It’s too much. All of his nerves are on fire and he knows it’s showing all over his face. She’s fucking incredible. Of course she is. He always knew she would be.
“It’s already 8:15,” Gerri says. She kisses Roman on the cheek and then pushes herself up by her elbows, ready to get out of bed. “I don't think I've slept in this late since I was nine years old. We should get moving.”
Roman gets up too, and he catches Gerri before she rises from the bed. She sighs as he kisses her neck, and then brushes his lips across the slope of her shoulder while running his hand underneath her camisole, his fingertips stroking the soft skin of her sides.
Roman runs his hand along her collarbone, letting his finger dip under the strap of the camisole, and then moves it down so he can lightly lick the bit of reddened skin that the strap had caused overnight. Gerri exhales as he continues kissing her there while he slowly moves his hand under the camisole to touch her breast.
J. is wearing pasties, but Kieran still feels her nipple harden under his touch. And he hears her take a sharp intake of breath when he moves his lips to where her neck meets her shoulder, and buries his head there. He feels her shudder and moan under her breath. He’s so captivated by these small indications that he’s affecting her much more than either of them expected. Is he… turning her on? Because lord knows he’s hard as fuck. So unprofessional and he’s embarrassed, but again--it’s J. He’s had, oh, about one million fantasies just like this.
He’s so fascinated by J.’s movements and sounds that he almost misses Roman’s cue to, like, say words and stuff.
“It’s Saturday,” Roman complains. He squeezes her breast, and then leans down so he can lift her shirt and kiss her bare back. Gerri hangs her head down and sighs again. “And the bullshit family lunch whatever isn’t for another four hours. Please don’t leave just yet. Please stay here with me.”
So Gerri gets back into bed, and allows Roman to kiss her, to pull her on top of him, hands roaming everywhere. It’s a huge sex scene for the show; it’s much more over the top than any other that came before it. It’s definitely more tender than Kieran thought Gerri and Roman were capable of. Apparently the writers had decided to give the viewers everything they wanted, perhaps just to appease everyone and not face backlash when it never happened, which Kieran has absolutely no complaints about.
Mark yells “Cut!” just as Gerri shifts downward and puts her hand underneath the comforter, assumedly on Roman’s dick but actually on Kieran’s thigh. He hopes she can’t feel how hard he is. Not that it would surprise her, he’s sure.
“That was… great,” Mark says, probably feeling weird for having to comment on the sex scene of his friends and colleagues. “Just one or two more and we got it, are you two good?”
Both of them nod as the P.A. brings their robes back and they go back to their original positions.
“Are you okay?” Kieran immediately asks her. “I mean… fuck, J.”
She can’t seem to look at him, but she squeezes his hand even tighter than before. “I know, honey. I’m okay. Are you?”
“Yeah. A-OK,” he whispers, and she chuckles softly.
They end up doing four more takes, and each time Kieran kisses her on the shoulder with his hand on her breast, J. quivers in the exact same way, softly moans in exactly the same way, and bites her lip exactly the same way. None of those things are scripted. She’s obviously one of the best actors he’s ever worked with but he knows even J. can’t fake those kinds of reactions. He knows she's experiencing the same thing he is, but he doesn’t know what that means for them. If it even means anything.
On the last take, her quivering is different--more intense, more pronounced. She literally vibrates underneath his mouth and lets out a longer moan, and with her hands shaking, she reaches behind her to grab his knee. Kieran inherently understands what she’s trying to communicate with him--that she doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, and definitely doesn’t want this to be the take used on the show. So he tries to convincingly fake collapse on his side, his back to the cameras and crew to shield J. as she tries to pull herself together and get her breathing back to normal. He pretends his watch--that Roman wears to bed apparently--gets caught on the sheets to buy them a few more seconds.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay, baby, just breathe. I got you.”
She inhales and exhales twice, nods, and then he gets back up, knowing that he ruined the take and not even caring a little. “Sorry about that, guys. I just slipped, I guess! I’m such a klutz, lol.”
“That’s fine,” Mark says, “I think we’ve got everything we need. That’s a wrap, thank you.”
The P.A. brings back their robes and they get up to find their dressing rooms and change. Kieran doesn’t know what to say--he doesn’t want to make J. feel uncomfortable. But he does catch up with her before she disappears.
“Hey--are you good?”
She doesn’t say anything--just gives him a half-smile and a small hug. But her heart isn’t in it. Fuck. He hopes she isn’t embarrassed or something else that she doesn’t deserve to feel.
“Hey, J., it’s okay, you don’t have to be…” Kieran can’t finish that sentence. There are so many things he wants to say, but it looks like J. just wants to disappear. “Sorry. I’ll catch up with you later, maybe.”
“Good idea,” she says quietly, and disappears into her dressing room.
Kieran sighs and walks back to his own dressing room. Fuck. This is not how he pictured their first time, either.
J. can’t stop thinking about it.
Can’t stop thinking about him.
She takes a shower when she gets back to the hotel after shooting, and thinks about how delicately and gently Kieran had touched her. How his lips felt on her collarbone. How goosebumps formed when he stroked her bare back.
As she gets dressed she thinks about how gently he kissed her, how good he tasted when his tongue slipped into her mouth, how he moaned under his breath when she ran her hand down his rib cage and back up again.
As she gets into her bed and turns the lamp off, she thinks about how he kept kissing the exact spot on her shoulder and how it felt like a jolt of electricity was being sent down her spine every single time. How he kept brushing her breast with his thumb, and even through the pasties she felt a wave of arousal settle around her like a warm blanket. How she had a fucking orgasm just from the way Kieran touched and kissed her so tenderly, without even touching her below the waist.
J. has never had an orgasm like that in her life, and she’s trying not to feel embarrassed--only Kieran knows what happened and of course he went above and beyond to hide what was going on from everyone else in the room. J. knows how much Kieran loves her and just wants to protect her. She knows she should probably at least text him to let him know she’s okay, that she appreciates what he did for her. Because she also realizes that no matter how badly Kieran wants to talk to her right now, he’s going to give her some space. Some distance. He doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.
She’s seen him be so careful in how he interacts with other women over the years--how he rarely touches anyone unless they touch him first. Except for her, of course--their behavior at the last years’ worth of award shows would prove that fact quite effectively, she thinks. But that’s bred from their intimate familiarity with each other, their years of history, their relentless flirting and teasing that was so effective, it resulted in an entire storyline on the show that was never meant to happen. If she were to ever ask him to tone it down, that she was uncomfortable with how he acted towards her in public, Kieran would probably never touch her again. Not just because of #metoo, although that’s part of it--but mostly because he’s a fucking decent human being who respects everyone’s boundaries.
The problem is that J. doesn’t know what she wants to say to him. She doesn’t know how to tell him that she can’t stop thinking about his lips on her skin; that she can’t stop fantasizing about him touching her when there’s no one else watching. She doesn’t know how to tell Kieran that she wants him in between her legs so fucking bad, she’s already gotten one set of underwear all messy just thinking about it.
It would be okay--it would be okay if something, theoretically, were to happen. They both have arrangements. It would be okay.
J. unhooks her phone from the charger and holds it while she mindlessly watches a rerun of “Criminal Minds.” What would she even say? “Sorry I accidentally orgasmed when you were being a complete professional today?” Because they both know that’s a ridiculous lie, too. Kieran was just aroused as she was. He was just able to hide it better.
She opens the text message app and presses his name. The last text he sent, from last night, said “Gonna wake up and stuff my face full of chocolate croissants. Can’t wait.” She had texted back, “You better not! Shirtless scene tomorrow. I don’t want to be seen with a fatty.” Just their usual dumb banter that always makes her smile.
She thinks of a hundred things to say and disregards all of them. Should she be serious, should she be funny, should she be horny? What’s the right tone to entice your close friend and coworker to come to your hotel room after making you orgasm at work? And is that even what she wants?
Yeah. It is what she wants. It’s what she’s wanted for a long fucking time.
Finally she settles on, “Come and finish what you started?” Simple. Direct. To the point.
It only takes seconds for Kieran to text her back. “I think you already finished just fine on your own.”
She chuckles a little. Before she can text back, he sends another--”But I can give you one so much better if you let me.”
“What are you waiting for?”
He’s on a different floor in the same hotel, and if she knows him at all--
There’s a knock on her door less than a minute later. She opens the door to Kieran looking down at the ground, as though he’s afraid to meet her eyes. He’s wearing his regulation white t-shirt and black sweatpants.
“Nice to see you dressed for the occasion,” J. jokes--not like she can talk; she’s wearing a robe with only her underwear on underneath. It’s what she had on before she texted him, and decided not to change
“Nice to see you’re not dressed at all,” Kieran murmurs. “You should know that I want to do unbelievably disgusting things to you right now, but can you tell me what happened earlier first? Was it… I just--what happened?”
She takes his hand and leads him over to the bed, where she sits down on the edge and he joins her. She lays her head on his shoulder, and he threads their fingers together, holding her hand tightly.
“The most simple explanation I have is that… it was you,” she says quietly. Kieran kisses her forehead gently. “Like I said before, I trust you, and I love you, and I guess my body reacted to the way you were touching me. Kier… you know how grateful I am for you being there for me in that moment. I wasn’t exactly embarrassed about the way my body and my brain reacted, but I didn’t--I didn’t need a whole crowd of people to see it, too. I wanted that to be just between us. I only wanted you to see that, so… thank you. Thank you so much.”
He touches her chin and lightly pulls her face closer to his own so he can kiss her gently. It’s a much different kiss than the one on set. More personal, more loving. It nearly takes J.’s breath away.
“You never have to thank me for that. You know I’m always going to protect you. And I know you’ll do the same for me.”
She nods enthusiastically. “Of course.”
“I just need you to know… how beautiful you looked in that moment, though. And how much I don’t take your feelings for granted. And how fucking hard I was the entire time we shot the stupid scene. I mean, I barely closed the hotel room door before I started jerking off,” Kieran says, and J. laughs. She pokes him on the shoulder, hard. That’s her Kieran--always toeing the line between sweet and sincere and vulgar and naughty.
“Well, I hope you saved some for me,” she says, and he groans, gripping her hand even harder.
“I’ve been saving some for you since I was 19 years old,” he whispers, and maybe that shouldn’t turn her on so much, but it does. God, it fucking does.
She gets up and stands before him, threading her fingers through his slightly tangled hair. He holds her waist, pulling her closer to him, kissing her stomach through her robe.
“Is this okay?” He asks as he makes a motion to untie her robe. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah… we’re okay. We’re good,” J. says, and that’s all Kieran needs to hear before he unties her robe, opening it slowly like he’s unwrapping a present. She bites her lip as he pulls it open, his hands immediately going to her hips, his eyes immediately going to her tits. She can’t help but lightly chuckle at the way he’s staring at her, as though she’s some kind of ancient bronze statue that he’s afraid of touching.
He pulls her closer to her, and kisses her stomach, trailing his lips from the top of her underwear, to her belly button, to her ribcage. His fingers are stroking her hip bones, and he’s making her crazy with how slow his movements are, how intentional he is with his hands and his mouth. She always imagined Kieran would absolutely ravage her if he ever had the chance, but it’s like he wants to savor every second he’s with her. Which she would love, if she wasn’t ravenously horny for him.
She won’t be greedy, though. She can be patient. She can be patient for him.
Kieran slowly rises from the bed, kissing his way up her body, and she cries out when he leans in to brush his lips against her nipple.
He takes the robe off of her and takes another long look, with one hand grasping her breast and the other on her ass, his pinkie stroking the back of her thigh.
“You’re incredible. Have I ever told you that you’re fucking incredible?”
“No. And frankly I feel like that’s very rude on your part,” J. says, and then she lets out a strained gasp when he licks her nipple, wrapping his tongue around it, sucking it not-so-gently. She feels it right in her groin and she knows she’s getting so fucking wet again.
“Take your pants off,” J. demands. “I want to see how hard you are for me.”
Kieran practically rips his pants in half as he rushes to take them off, along with his t-shirt. She pushes his chest with the palm of her hand onto the bed, where he lands on his elbows, still staring at her with wondrous awe in his eyes. She can see the outline of his cock in his tight boxer briefs, and she licks her lips because she can't fucking wait.
She wants to crawl on top of him, cover him with her own body, her breasts on his chest, her pussy on top of his dick, rutting against it, the dampness in her underwear driving them both crazy. But before she can do that, he grabs her and trades places with her, running his fingers down her body while he kisses her breathless.
“I want to make you come,” he whispers. She shivers when he grazes his teeth across her nipple while his hand moves over her panties, his fingers finding the outline of her clit. “Again. On purpose this time. When no one is watching. When it’s just the two of us, like it was always meant to be.”
“God, Kier…” she breathes. She didn’t know. She didn’t know he was capable of being so… nasty. It’s thrilling, actually. He’s so goddamn hot when he’s talking dirty to her.
“If I recall correctly, it’s this spot right… here that you seemed to like me kissing so much,” Kieran says, brushing his lips and tongue across her collarbone, indeed finding the exact place that lit all her nerves on fire earlier in the day. She moans and clutches his forearm. “Mmm, baby, I love making you feel like this. I loved watching you come for me.”
“Just for you,” J. murmurs. “Only you.”
“That’s right, just for me,” he says before he takes her mouth again, his tongue sliding in, his lips hot and wet on hers.
He finally lets his hand drift down her stomach into her panties, and she gasps and buries her head in his shoulder as he grazes his fingers across her clit, into her wetness, one finger inside of her, and then two. He’s licking her earlobe, his breath warm on her neck.
“Fuck, J. You feel so goddamn good,” Kieran whispers. His mouth drifts down her neck and licks her pulse point, making her tremble. It’s a little stupid how easy it is for Kieran to get her so worked up so quickly. It’s a little insane how her body reacts so favorably to his touch. But it is Kieran, after all. They’ve been heading in this direction for a long time. It was practically inevitable.
She shudders as he rubs his thumb on her clit, two fingers working rhythmically inside of her. She wants to last longer than this, but it’s been so long, and she needs him so much, and she wants him so bad--
Kieran’s other hand is wrapped around her waist, and he pulls her closer to him when she starts quietly whimpering along with her loud moans. His fingers get deeper, his thumb moves slower. He kisses her hard, his tongue licking her lower lip, his hand clutching her waist tightly as she comes.
“Yes, baby… god, you look so fucking sexy when you come…” He wraps her up in his arms and kisses her all over while she catches her breath. “And I’m going to give you at least five minutes before I go down on you until you do it again in my mouth.”
“Goodness, Kieran,” she laughs. “Give an old lady a little more time to recover.”
“You’re not old, that’s such bullshit,” he says. He’s facing her while she’s on her back, still feeling boneless and empty. “You’re in your prime. Everyone wants you. For movies, for photo shoots, for their masturbatory fantasies. But I’m the one who gets you in your bed.”
“Yes, baby… right where I want you,” she says, because he’s right, and he’s always been so good at buoying her self-esteem. If they hadn’t flirted relentlessly on set together; if he hadn’t been so visibly attracted to her, she might have just faded into the background of the show or just disappeared altogether. She’s grateful that Kieran has played such a huge part in making her career explode just as she thought she might be done. That she would be relegated to playing grandmothers or jilted wives for the rest of her life, instead of an indifferent lawyer with two children and a dead husband, both of which she rarely talks about, and a boytoy on the side whose obsessive desire for her gets them in constant trouble.
“Plus, I don’t know what it is about you but you’re only getting hotter.” He gently holds her breast in his hand as he leans in and sucks on it, causing her to arch her back slightly and moan hoarsely. “These babies have gotten so much bigger. They played such a huge part in my fantasies when I was younger and now they’re even better. I can’t believe I get to do this now.” He sucks the side of her breast until a pink mark starts to darken it. She lets him, because it’s in a spot that no one but him is going to be seeing for a while. And because it feels so fucking good.
“It’s called gaining weight, Kier. But thank you.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to make sure and buy you donuts every morning.” J. laughs. He’s an idiot and she should frown on the way he’s talking about her body, but fuck it. She likes it.
“You aren’t so bad either, sweetie,” J. says. She strokes his arm with her fingernails and squeezes his especially impressive biceps. “I’ve always thought these were nice. Along with the rest of you.”
“My personal trainer thanks you,” Kieran says, but she can tell he’s pleased by her compliment.
She presses a kiss into his jaw, swipes her lips across his throat, bites into his collarbone. She licks his nipple, making it wet and hard, and then bites it just so she can hear him yelp.
“Jesus, J. You are evil!”
“Yeah. But you love it, don’t you?” She says, back to touching him tenderly, her fingers roaming through his hair as she gazes at him, enraptured by his sincere expression, his honest hazel eyes.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his mouth is back on hers, his tongue licking into her mouth, his hands roaming everywhere, like a horny octopus. She’s still so sensitive; her skin feels like it’s electrified as he runs his fingers down her thighs, her knees, her calves, her ankles, and back up again. He moves down her body, dragging his lips and tongue along everything in his path.
When he’s between her legs, she exhales sharply as he bites a kiss into her inner thigh, sucking another mark into her skin that no one else gets to see.
“You smell so fucking amazingly good,” Kieran says. “I could spend all day down here.”
Before she can protest that he better not because she needs it right fucking now--she feels his tongue licking her clean, licking the come from her first orgasm, licking inside of her as far as he can reach. It feels so amazingly good--she’s not sure when it’s ever felt this goddamn good.
Then she feels his tongue tentatively lick her clit. “Soft, baby, please--it’s still sensitive from before,” she breathes. So he obeys, at least for a moment or two--licking her softly, so softly it feels like he’s rubbing a feather on it. But as she moans his name and her fingernails dig into his shoulder, he increases the pace and the intensity. He sucks on it while two fingers make their way inside of her, working her over until he finds the spot that makes her whole body shiver.
Her next orgasm feels like a combination of a truck running her over and an ocean wave moving swiftly through her whole body. It’s so much more powerful than the last one; she thinks it’s possible that she’s never actually felt this sensation of so incredibly blazing hot before.
“Kieran… fuck, Kieran, please…” She can’t stop saying his name as she comes just the way he wanted it--in his mouth and on his face. He keeps moving his fingers inside of her, keeps gently licking her up and down, until she stops trembling from the intensity of her orgasm.
They lay together again for a few minutes, quiet and contemplative, until J. manages to get up on very wobbly legs and go to the bathroom to clean herself up. When she comes back, Kieran immediately curls up next to her, kissing her neck and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says. “You’re just… fuck, J. You’re everything I always fantasized about.”
“Mmm. You too, baby… and guess what?”
“What?” He asks so earnestly that it almost makes her laugh.
“It’s my turn now,” she says, and surprises Kieran by getting up and pushing him back down when he tries to move. When she pushes his underwear aside, his dick springs up, a deliciously-hued dark pink, rigid and firm. It’s making her desperately hungry for him.
“Mmm… you’ve already made such a big mess,” she says, running her thumb along the slit, making him cover his eyes with his hands and groan. “I love it.”
To prove it, she leans down and takes him in her mouth, licking the head and devouring his salty sweet pre-come. It’s been a long fucking time since she’s done this, but she still remembers a thing or two. His hands are in her hair, holding her head as she bobs up and down, taking him in as far as her gag reflex will allow.
She likes how he feels against her lips, the weight of him on her tongue. She likes how he can’t stop whispering her name as she licks him from top to bottom, spending more time on the extra sensitive areas that makes him exhale and tug on her hair a little harder than she’d prefer.
She rests her palm underneath his balls, pressing into him slightly as she licks him, and he shifts a bit and groans as though he didn’t expect it to feel so goddamn amazing. She takes him in deep, wanting to taste him in her throat, wanting to hear those desperate cries and low groans.
When she wraps her hand around the base and strokes him in tandem with her tongue lapping at his slit, Kieran starts to seize up, his eyes pinched closed, his hand grasping her neck. Soon she feels him release into her, his come running down her throat as she eagerly swallows it.
“Yummy,” she says as she collapses beside him once again. He chuckles, but he can’t seem to move any of his body parts or open his mouth to make any words come out. She’s happy she was able to make that happen for him.
Kieran finally manages to get up and get a bottle of water from the mini-bar. “Here, it’ll cost $22 but at least you can wash the taste of my jizz out of your mouth.”
“Who says I want to do that?” J. asks, pulling him close so she can kiss him. He makes a humming noise as she licks his tongue.
“You’re such a freak,” he says, and she knows he loves every second of it. “Have you always been such a freak?”
“You bring it out of me,” she says, and he laughs.
Kieran looks at his phone and sighs. J. sees it’s almost one in the morning, and they have an early call time tomorrow.
“As much as I hate to fucking say this, I think I have to go now. We can’t…” No one can know about this, is what Kieran is saying. And unfortunately, it makes sense.
“I’ll miss you, though,” she whispers, kissing his temple. “I want to keep you right here, all to myself.”
“I know you do,” he says. “You’re greedy like that. And I love it.”
She groans as Kieran slips out of her arms. He picks up her hand and kisses the inside of her wrist before gently setting it back on the bed. She watches as he shrugs on his t-shirt and wriggles back into his sweatpants; she already misses the sight of his sweet, tight bare ass.
She moves to get up and Kieran rushes over to her side of the bed to lean down and kiss her. “Don’t get up. Relax. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. We get to do some more kissing.”
“Hmm, too bad we’re no good at that,” she says, holding him steady, her hand on his jaw, her lips on his neck--because she doesn’t want him to leave her.
“Yeah. I guess we’ll just have to practice more. But stop kissing me now or you’re never going to get rid of me.”
She sighs and lets him go. She knows Kieran doesn’t want to leave any more than she does. But they need to maintain some kind of professionalism. Even though there’s been rumors about them floating around for years--she’s personally heard some of her castmates whispering their theories to each other when they don’t think she’s listening--they don’t want to provide anyone extra ammunition. Oh, well. They still have three more months of filming, plenty of opportunity to have as much fun as they can stand.
“By the way… next time I’m going to fuck you so hard you may not be able to walk the next day,” he whispers in her ear.
“Mmm… can’t wait,” she says, her voice strained because even though she’s just had two of the most amazing orgasms, the thought of Kieran so hard inside her, pounding her into the headboard, is making interesting things happen in the pit of her stomach.
He laughs, and finally turns away. She’s fucking embarrassed and annoyed by how much she wants him to stay. By how empty she feels already and he hasn’t even left yet.
“Hey, Kier? I love you,” J. calls out before Kieran slips out of the door.
He looks back at her with such genuine fondness in his eyes, it almost takes her breath away. “I love you, baby.”
It means something different every single time.