The Captain's Snowbound Christmas

by Eleanor Harkstead

  “Fixing spray, that’ll do the trick. You’ll need to give your bum a good scrub later to get it off, but it’ll be fine.” Reuben powdered Bunny’s peach of a bottom, and had to crouch to blow away the excess, which drifted off on a puff of Reuben’s breath. Then he armed himself with the fixing spray and squeezed the bottle, sending a fine mist arcing over Bunny’s perfect arse.

  “Now that is cold!” Bunny exclaimed. “I’m suffering for my craft today!”

  “You’re all set!” Reuben put down the fixing spray. “It’s very tempting to give your bottom a tap, you know. Like the flanks of a horse.”

  Bunny looked over his shoulder at Reuben. With a quick glance towards the director, he whispered, “What’re you doing tonight?”

  Oh my bloody God, he’s definitely asking me out.

  Reuben ran his hand back through his hair, trying his best to look nonchalant.

  “Nothing much. Wrapping presents, you know…but that can wait. What about you?”

  “Going out for a drink with this flirty makeup guy I know.” He knelt on the bed and pulled his breeches up. “Hopefully?”

  Reuben raised an eyebrow. He was still trying to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming. “Okay…so that sounds very much like you’re asking me out on a date?”

  “We can wait until the Soho project wraps if you’d rather,” Bunny replied, his breeches fastened now. But that would be months away—anything could happen. Someone else might snag Bunny right from under him. “Or— Actually, I am asking you out on a date. What do you say?”

  Is this really happening?

  “Well, yeah, I’d love to go for a drink with you. Can’t believe you’d want to with me, but…it’s a yes.”

  Bunny grinned then said, “Back to work. La Linda returns!”

  Linda swept into the room, primping her hair. She glanced over at Bunny. “I suppose you can’t wait to get your arse out?”

  “You know, that’s exactly what I said at my RADA audition when they asked me why I wanted to train there.” Bunny slipped from the bed. “Because I want to get my arse out on BBC1.”

  Linda planted her hands on her hips. “Right, let’s get on with the sex, then.” It was the same unenthused tone that Reuben had heard his mother use when his dad wanted to drag her to a hardware shop.

  Once again, he and Amy retreated and once again the set was transformed into the world of Firth and Tamsin. And Reuben had a date with Bunny tonight. Bunny with the perfect bottom.

  Someone from wardrobe loosened Linda’s stays. Then the director called “Action!” and a heated, seductive look took residence in Linda’s gaze.

  “I love you, you bastard!” Linda breathed.

  “Marry me,” Bunny replied in between kisses, and Reuben had to stifle a gasp of surprise. A proposal? This was dynamite—no wonder the set was closed. But Tamsin and Firth had been here before—surely they wouldn’t make it to the altar without drama. She’d flounced off with the scheming landowner last time, driving Regency Europe’s finest secret agent to go off to war to heal his wounded heart. “By God, woman, say yes.”

  “Yes!” Linda moaned. “Oh, even if I have to share you with your French trollop, yes!”

  Linda’s deft unfastening of Bunny’s breeches was an artful manoeuvre, Reuben had to admit. He didn’t even notice it was happening until she slid them lower and a moment before the director called Cut, Reuben was treated to Christopher Manners’ celebrated bottom making one of its traditional cameo appearances.

  And it was going to look gorgeous on screen, Reuben was sure, especially with that cheeky pink blush.

  “Have you got what you want now?” Linda asked the director. Bunny was standing there in front of her, breeches unfastened, and she was staring off into the shadows where the director lurked.

  “I think that’ll do,” came the answering call. “That’s lunch, everyone. Back in an hour for the bed scene and then, miracle of miracles, it’s a wrap at last!”

  Linda grabbed her dressing gown from wardrobe and tied it on. “Simulated sex on a full stomach, won’t that be fun?” she said to no one in particular.

  Reuben tidied his already tidy toolbox, trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed Linda’s grumpiness.

  “It’s only a bit of pillow talk,” Bunny told her, apparently in an effort to placate her annoyance, quickly fastening his breeches as he did. “Then you can go home and think about more important things than Cornish bodice rippers. Is bub still waking in the night?”

  “Yes.” Linda sighed. “Why do I see all these happy mothers, blooming with joy, not a hair out of place, and I’ve got a screaming, red-faced demon that expels bodily fluids at explosive rates? All over me, usually.”

  Bunny smiled and took her hand. “After today you can concentrate on enjoying Christmas. No more early filming calls or late stays. And you’re still coming to my new year bash, aren’t you?”

  “Hope so. My niece has said she’ll babysit,” Linda replied. “Can’t remember the last time I wore something glamorous.” She looked down at herself and chuckled. “And this costume doesn’t count!”

  “And if your niece lets you down, you know my mum’s desperate to step in.” They really were close then, Reuben noted, not like some sets he’d been on, where beloved co-stars were almost at daggers drawn. “You deserve a party after spending so long stuck in Cornish corsets!”

  Linda stroked Bunny’s arm. “That’s so nice of your mum to offer. Tell her thanks from me! Well…we better get to lunch.”

  Amy nudged Reuben. “Lunch?” she asked.

  “Yes, please,” Reuben said. “It’s hard work primping a famous bottom!”

  Chapter Two

  Reuben hadn’t had much opportunity to talk to Bunny over lunch, as Amy was full of news. But at least he’d have lots of time later to speak to Bunny when they went out for their drink. Reuben managed to catch the occasional smile from Bunny while they ate. He was caught up in a conversation with Linda, with interruptions from the sci-fi production’s cast, who appeared at Bunny’s table at five-minute intervals to say, “Draw your sword, sir!” with varying levels of bravado.

  But I’m not going to say it.

  Bunny laughed off the catchphrase every time someone barked it at him. He even took selfies with a few of them, despite the fact that he was clad only in breeches and a well-secured bathrobe. But Reuben couldn’t help but see the slight look of annoyance that flashed in Bunny’s eyes whenever he was left alone to eat.

  It had been such a moment to savour, hadn’t it? Every heart in Britain must have fluttered the first time Captain Firth, saturnine and brooding, his usually immaculate uniform just a little ruffled by his adventures, told his double-crossing foe, ‘Draw your sword, sir’, as they battled for their very lives on the deck of a sinking ship.

  In breeches.

  Reuben fanned himself at the thought.

  * * * *

  After lunch, Reuben and Bunny returned to the makeup room.

  “It’s sexy post-romp gleam time,” Reuben said, unable to repress any of the sauciness in his tone. They were alone again, Linda and Amy extending their lunch, because apparently women didn’t gleam post-romp—they merely had to lounge seductively. Which meant they also had time for another cup of tea.

  “You know when they take photos of food for adverts,” Bunny said as he unknotted his robe. “I bet it’s a similar process, don’t you? We used to just do this on set but oil got onto something very vintage and all hell broke loose.”

  “I’m sure of it.” Reuben opened his toolbox and poured some of the baby oil into an empty spritz bottle. He smiled at Bunny. How much of this man was he about to see unclothed? “Now, is it just your chest that’s visible or anything else? You know…stomach, thigh?”

  Bunny looked thoughtful and paused as his robe fell open, revealing that bare chest and the tight breeches. Then he nodded and said, “That’s a good point. Down to the waist, maybe a bit lower?” He gestured with his hand as though sketc
hing out the trajectory of the bedsheet around his legs. “And I’m guessing probably a bit of right leg, but I don’t know how much, so…can you work with that?”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” Reuben added some tap water to his spritz bottle and sprayed some of the mixture against the back of his hand. But he didn’t really look. All he could picture were Bunny’s bare thighs. His voice almost caught in his throat as he said, “You’ll need to bring your breeches down, is that okay?”

  “I may as well keep them off now, hadn’t I?” Bunny was already unfastening them. “I’ll just stick my boxers on instead.”

  “Okay. It’s easiest, I suppose.” Reuben held out his hand and examined the glisten of fake sweat on his skin. It was perfect. But he was going to have to offer Bunny some advice. “Erm…thing is, your boxers might leave a mark. The elastic waistband?”

  Bunny winced, nodding. “That’s a good point… I hate those cock sock things, but needs must!”

  “Have you still got yours?” Reuben asked. He was blushing and laid his hand against his cheek. It was on fire. Be professional, Reuben! “The sexy gleam’s ready, by the way. I’m all ready to squirt on your chest. Erm…you know what I mean.”

  Bunny nodded then turned away, so Reuben turned away too, even though there really wasn’t much point. It seemed like the right thing to do, though. He heard the sound of Bunny’s bathrobe landing on the chair, then the actor said, “Ready when you are. Shall we do it standing up?”

  That introduced quite an interesting image in Reuben’s mind, but he chased it away. Then, as he turned back to face Bunny, it came rushing into his thoughts again. Even though genital guards were not sexy in the least, somehow because Bunny was wearing it, it was weirdly alluring. Reuben tried very hard not to picture himself teasing Bunny out of it.

  But it was the rest of Bunny’s body that held Reuben spellbound. Even though he’d seen him on television, they were standing together in the same room, alone, and about to go on a date.

  “Sorry, I’m not normally… It’s just that…” It’s just that I’m being incredibly unprofessional. “Standing up is fine. I’ll…I’ll spray.”

  Bunny nodded. “Just tell me how you want me—you’re the boss!”

  “Just the front, is it?” Reuben swallowed and stepped closer. He sprayed in short bursts across Bunny’s chest. “I— I used slightly warm water so it wouldn’t be too cold,” he said, trying to think of something to say that would calm the footage playing in his mind of the genital guard sliding off in his hand.

  “That’s very thoughtful,” Bunny replied with a smile. “Thank God I won’t be the one getting oiled up on the Soho project. I won’t miss it. I’m really excited about that one. It’s really personal to me, I’ve been trying to get it made for so long and now… I’ve got to thank the captain for that!”

  Reuben carefully rearranged some of Bunny’s chest fuzz with the tail of a comb, then went on spraying, heading down to his stomach. Bunny’s muscles tensed as the fake sweat landed and Reuben was amazed he hadn’t fainted yet. “No love scenes for you in that one, then? No cock socks required!”

  ‘Draw your sword, sir!’

  Reuben pursed his lips. For God’s sake, no!

  “Not one,” he confirmed. “I’ve got a couple of after-the-event scenes, but they’re more of the lounging-about-in-a-massive-’70s-bed-drinking-bubbly sort. Captain Firth viewers love the sauce, though, don’t they? They’d chase us out of town if they didn’t get something in every film!”

  “They should just put your bare bum on the posters and say dr—”—Reuben’s jaw froze. Oh, fuck, no!—“and rename the show Captain Raunch!”

  “If I never hear draw your sword, sir again, I’d be a happy man!” Bunny laughed. But he had said it. He was virtually naked and had said that line. Not just said it, but delivered it. “And don’t tell the producer about your bum poster idea, he’ll probably say yes!”

  Reuben gently combed the line of hair that ran down from Bunny’s navel, neatening it up where the spray had set it awry.

  “What are we doing?” Reuben chuckled. He’d done this to loads of actors before, but doing this to Bunny was making him feel all kinds of awkward. “I’m getting paid to tidy up your pleasure trail, you’re getting paid to lie almost naked in bed looking hot.”

  “I definitely get the better end of that deal,” Bunny decided. “Isn’t it funny what we just get used to?”

  “Yeah!” Reuben crouched in front of Bunny. His cock was right in front of his face, the intimate contours obvious through the genital guard. Stop thinking about his cock! “Just…doing your thighs…” Reuben held the back of Bunny’s muscular, manly thigh to steady himself as he misted the front of his leg with fake sweat. Then moved to the other one. “There we are…you look well and truly sated. The viewers can fill in the gaps with their filthy minds!”

  Bunny reached for a large towel and wrapped it around his waist, an old hand at preserving the post-sex gleam for as long as possible. There would be no bathrobes this time, it seemed.

  “Thanks, Reuben. Let’s go and get it done!”

  Reuben got back to his feet and picked up his things. He opened the door for Bunny, hoping he wouldn’t see the tremble in his hand. How was this happening? Christopher Manners and the closed set and…Oh God…drinks? It’s like a dream!

  Back in the cottage, Reuben put down his toolbox but hung on to the spray in case Bunny needed any touching up. Now that Bunny was in a bedroom, Reuben’s mind began to wander. What would a post-coital Bunny look like? Lounging, comfortable in his nudity, confident within a haze of pleasure that hung over both him and his lover.

  I might get to see it for real one day.

  Reuben grinned at the thought.

  He watched as Bunny settled into the bed beside Linda and the sheet was artfully arranged to cover just as much as it needed to. He was chatting to Linda about her journey that morning, entirely at ease despite being near naked. Linda’s bare shoulders and the rounded tops of her bosom poked out above the sheet, giving the impression that she wasn’t wearing anything either. But everyone else knew better. Their pillow talk amounted to Linda talking about how many bibs her baby was going through each day because he was teething and dribbled all the time. It was hardly the sauciest of conversations.

  The director fussed about trying to get the camera in the right place, then they were ready to film again.

  “Reuben,” the director called, “could we get a little more gleam on Bunny’s thigh? The shadow’s rather more unforgiving that I anticipated. Is that doable?”

  “Yes!” Reuben came forwards with the spritz bottle. “I’ll just…” He stood beside the bed, and wondered for a moment about tumbling in there with Bunny. He pointed to Bunny’s thigh. “Over all the thigh, or…?”

  The response was a nod and Bunny teased, “Go wild.”

  Reuben chuckled. “If you say so!” He crouched beside the bed and sprayed back and forth along the length of Bunny’s thigh, making his skin shine. As he worked, he occasionally glanced up at Bunny and realised the actor was enjoying it as much as Reuben was. He just hoped Amy and the director wouldn’t notice.

  “That’s perfect!” called the director and from the shadows, Amy gave him a thumbs up. “Thanks, Reuben.”

  Reuben winked at Bunny. “There you are, Mr Sexy Thighs!” Then he retreated from the bed and waited in a dark corner.

  “Mr Sexy Thighs?” Linda did not sound happy. “This is a closed set! There’s no need to make juvenile comments about thighs!”

  “You have gorgeous thighs too, just not as well-oiled,” Bunny told her, puncturing the atmosphere. “But I’m still not taking you for a drink after!”

  Linda managed a brittle laugh, then tapped the end of Bunny’s nose and said, as if she were an agony aunt expounding advice, “You shouldn’t do your romancing on set.”

  “But I don’t go anywhere else!” He pouted. “It’s all right for you, you’ve got a husband!”

&nb
sp; Linda gave him a smile. “Oh, ha ha ha!”

  “I’m sorry,” Reuben offered.

  “That’s okay,” Linda replied, softened now. When ‘Action!’ was called, she transformed once more into the Cornish temptress, lazily coquettish beside her captain. Yet Reuben’s eyes were all for Bunny, so confident and assured.

  ‘Draw your sword, sir!’

  Indeed, if the sheet shifted less than an inch, Bunny’s sword would be drawn. Reuben let an X-rated version of Captain Firth play in his mind as the scene unfolded.

  “But you’ll be gone again, so soon.” Linda sighed and laid her head against Bunny. “And I’ll be left all on my own once more.”

  “I’m here now.” He leaned across and kissed her shoulder. “Let’s make the best of the time we have.”

  “Will you leave before the banns have been read?” Linda asked. “Will I have time to trim my best bonnet for our wedding before you go?”

  “We’ll have time,” Bunny murmured before he drew her into his arms.

  These were characters Reuben had known for years, fictional people in whom millions were invested. And he was watching their story unfold, the envy of every single one of those viewers.

  “And cut…!” the director finally called. He started to clap. “Well done, everybody! Really good day’s work!”

  “And we’re done!” Bunny climbed out of the bed and wrapped his discarded towel around his waist. He took Linda’s hand and kissed it. “Have a wonderful Christmas, darling, and I’ll see you for the new year bash!”

  “Thank you, Bunny, you sweetie!” Linda kissed her hand and wafted it towards Bunny. “You have a fabulous Christmas!”

  Bunny dispensed liberal farewells to the limited crew on the closed set. When he was done, he approached Reuben.

  “What time works for you tonight?” he asked. “Anywhere in particular that you fancy?”

  Reuben slid his hands into his pockets, pretending to be casual. “We could go somewhere in Soho, prepare for your big project? Then again, maybe we could go somewhere a bit quieter?”