Page 24 of Burn the Script

He pushed against my shoulder. “Do it, then.”

My knees hit the carpet before he sat up, legs spreading wide. Our fingers clashed in a battle to free my prize from his pants. He worked the button. I worked the zipper. Shimmery, turquoise fabric caught my eye before his thick, uncut dick took center stage, flushed red and begging to be devoured.

I dragged my tongue up the underside of his shaft, savoring the flavor and feel of him. When I slid the foreskin back and teased his frenulum, lust exploded in his pupils, holding me captive as I took my time discovering what made him gasp and grunt. My mouth and hand work in tandem, and my other hand joined in the fun, cupping his balls.

“Suck on them,” he commanded.

Fuck. Yes. Take charge of me, darling.

I groaned, licking along the seam before drawing his balls between my lips, sucking and releasing each with a pop. My dick wept in my sweatpants as I writhed, thrusting against nothing. The smirk on Miguel’s face surprised me and stoked my fire. I squeezed the base of his cock and took him deep.

“Jesus,” he hissed, shoving a hand in my hair. He gripped the strands and tilted my head back. “Look at those fucking lips. I knew you’d be good at this.”

A deep, dirty moan rumbled in my chest. I relished the praise and the sting in my scalp as he took control and fucked my mouth. Saliva leaked down his shaft, and my slurping drowned out the movie in the background.

“So messy.” Miguel’s panting intensified, and his voice dropped to a low, strained rasp. “I’m getting close. Swallow for me, baby.”

Another loud moan told him how much I looked forward to drinking his cum and being his baby. That was the first time he called me a name other than Graham, and I claimed the endearment like it was my birthright.

Pride shone in his brown eyes. Approval burned even brighter. He tensed and let out a quiet grunt as warm, salty cum branded my tongue. I swallowed all of it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, head falling back as he sagged on the sofa.

I released him with a light pop and a boastful wink, sitting back on my heels to admire my handiwork: glistening cock, flushed face, boneless limbs, rumpled shirt unbuttoned halfway. The mess I’d made of him was a beautiful sight to behold.

Stretching forward, I planted a kiss on his parted lips. “So, what’s the verdict?”

He wrapped his arms around my neck and grinned like he’d been under anesthesia. “I think you love having a dick in your mouth.”

“Yes, I do. And as your boyfriend, I’ll take the job seriously.”

When my erection dug into this thigh, he trailed a hand down my stomach. “What about you? Need me to take care of that?”

I snagged his wrist and pressed my lips to the silky skin near his cuff. “I got what I was after tonight. You’re delicious, by the way. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

Pink stained his cheeks, and his dopey smile wavered as he looked away again. “I should get home. Early work meeting tomorrow.”

I hid my disappointment behind an understanding nod. The worst part about being an actor and dating someone with a steady job was that I didn’t have him all to myself between film projects. On weekdays, we only had a few hours to spend together because Miguel’s bedtime was ten o’clock, and he strictly adhered to routines.

While he buttoned his shirt, I gathered his shoes and slid them on his feet. He grunted like he was annoyed but didn’t stop me from dressing him.

After a long goodbye kiss worthy of cinematic awards, I stood on the porch while he started his car. Miguel remained skittish about us. Whatever his doubts were, he kept them to him himself, but I hoped they had nothing to do with the demands of my job. I was a busy actor with a packed schedule. Even so, I was determined to make our relationship work.

Nibbling on my thumb, I stared at his taillights and wondered if we were in a relationship. Things between us advanced physically that night, but his emotional blockade stood strong. And he never said whether he’d be my boyfriend. From what I’d learned about Miguel so far, he only answered questions and made moves when he was ready. I didn’t mind, because I already knew he was worth the wait.

11

GRAHAM

NOW

Monday, January 9th

Crew members scurry around the soundstage, shouting orders and performing last checks on equipment. It’s organized chaos, but everyone works toward a unified goal. Months of planning and long meetings have led us to this day—the first day of principal photography.

I stand on the perimeter of the bustling activity, grinning from ear to ear. A heady energy thrums in the concrete beneath my sneakers and courses through my veins. To anyone glancing my way, I look calm on the outside. On the inside, however, a lonely kid from rural Colorado is racing up a mountain with his arms raised in a warrior’s victory cry. And the teenager who moved to LA with a duffel bag and four years of drama club under his belt? He’s really fucking proud.

I spent a decade working my ass off on the other side of the camera, the actor who did as he was told. Go again, adjust your mark, add more emotion to your delivery, be the perfect heartthrob. Now, I’m the one at the helm of this creative endeavor because I’m the goddamn director.