They set up outside the door to the room Cyrus and Nadir shared. Patrick had a moment or two before he went in, so he watched as Rhys took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, obviously working himself into the proper mind-set. Patrick knew he probably looked similar when he did, and it was a reminder Patrick needed to see that Rhys was a professional actor, just like he was. And despite what was going on between them, he reminded himself that Rhys was good at it.
Their eyes met, Rhys gave him a half smile, then straightened his face. When the calls were made, Rhys gave a nod and stepped through the door.
Patrick moved over to watch. Rhys paced the room, looking quite nicely like a caged animal. If Patrick didn’t know Rhys was acting, he’d have thought the man was truly livid. He watched Rhys pace to the window, spin around, and come back.
And despite knowing what to expect, Patrick nearly jumped out of his skin when Rhys picked up the bottle of wine on the small table, spun, and threw it against the wall, roaring at the same time.
It looked like Jack was happy with it, so Patrick gathered his wits, waited the ten or so seconds he was supposed to, then hurried into the room. “Cyrus!”
Rhys spun around and stared at him.
The Nadir in Patrick cringed at the expression. Patrick took a deep breath and stepped up to Rhys. “What in the world is that about? Why did you leave dinner so suddenly? His Highness—”
“His Highness, His Highness, His Highness….” Rhys shook his head. “Is that all you care about? Is there any room for me in your heart anymore?” Rhys spun and stalked toward the window.
Patrick sighed and stepped up behind him. “Cyrus…,” he murmured and immediately knew it was too quiet. “Sorry!” he said when Jack cut.
“At least we got the crash done. Let’s try that again. His Highness from Cyrus,” Jack said and went back to his chair.
They reset, waited for the calls, and then Rhys gave his lines. This time, when Patrick stepped up to him, he got the “Cyrus” out louder. He reached up to put a hand on Rhys’s shoulder and it was shaken off. “Cyrus, please….”
Rhys turned back around, and the fierceness on his face made Patrick cringe this time. “Please? How can I compete with a malik? Can I? Is that what I must do? Challenge him?”
Patrick’s eyes widened, and he stared for a long moment before he started laughing.
Rhys’s expression turned puzzled. “What?”
Patrick pulled himself together as the script called for and sighed. “You would do that? You would challenge a malik for me?”
“I would challenge anyone who would try to take you from me,” Rhys replied.
“CUT!”
“What?” Rhys turned an irritated look at Jack. “Fuck’s sake, what was wrong with that?”
“It wasn’t… fierce enough.”
Rhys rolled his eyes, and Patrick snickered. They shared a companionable look, and then Rhys turned back to Jack. “Fine.”
Jack nodded. “Again, please. Patrick’s line first.”
Patrick straightened his face and looked up at Rhys again. When the calls were made, he sighed, then gave his lines.
Rhys gave his reply, and though it didn’t sound all that different to Patrick, Jack seemed happy with it, so they kept going.
Patrick shook his head. “You need not do that, Rhys. Fuck,” Patrick said, closing his eyes and dropping his head.
Rhys laughed.
Jack sighed. “I’m not even going to say it. Back up.”
Again, Patrick spoke. “You would do that? You would challenge a malik for me?”
Rhys once more said, “I would challenge anyone who would try to take you from me.”
No cut, so Patrick continued. “You do not need to do that, Cyrus.” He lifted a hand and cupped Rhys’s cheek. “You are the one who has my heart. You are the one I love the most. There is no comparison.”
Rhys frowned. “But… you have said you love him.”
Patrick nodded. “Yes, but it is not what I feel for you. If I had to choose, right now, between you… there would be no choice, Cyrus. It is you. It has always been you, and it will always be you.” Patrick swallowed, wishing with everything in him he didn’t have to say these things. Even within a scene, it felt way too much like he was saying them to Rhys, not Nadir to Cyrus.
Rhys stepped closer, closing the small distance between them. He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers over Patrick’s cheek. “If we were freed, if we could leave… you would? With me?”
Patrick nodded. “Yes, Cyrus. I would. I won’t lie. I would miss him, as you would miss Teman. But… I would go if it meant choosing between you.”
Rhys closed his eyes and moved in, and Patrick leaned in for the kiss they were to share next. Their lips met and brushed, then started to open, but Jack spoke.
“Good. Remember, this is loving, not—”
Patrick pulled back and scowled at Jack.
“What?”
“You totally threw me off.”
Jack sighed. “Sorry.”
Rhys looked annoyed. “Look, we’re both plenty familiar with what it’s supposed to be. We’ve done more than a few kisses with each other. Think we can do that part?”
Jack frowned.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rhys growled. He glanced at Patrick, then back at Jack. “You’ve gone through this before with us alone. Let us do this. Don’t try to microdirect, and you’ll get what you want.”
Jack considered it, tapping the sides on his chin. “Don’t veer from the order of things. Don’t skip anything.”
Patrick turned to blink at Jack. “Really?”
“And keep to the slow and loving thing, and we’ll see how it goes. If I don’t like it—”
“You cut, yeah, but if you talk through it, it’s gonna fuck us up.” Rhys shook his head.
“Fine. Let’s try again.”
Patrick looked up at Rhys and took a deep breath. “Okay. We can do this. It won’t be—”
“One take, no, but I think we can make him happy. Listen….” He took a deep breath. “I know you don’t love me. But if you get yourself to think you do, pretend that you do. Even….” He looked away, then drew another deep breath. “Maybe think about him,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. “It’ll go faster, look good.”
Patrick stared at Rhys for a long moment, frowning. He’d told Chance that very thing when they’d practiced. He’d promised he’d think of his lover. But it felt… really wrong somehow, if he was supposed to pretend to love Rhys. He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. There were so many things wrong with this he couldn’t begin to count them all.
He gave himself a few more seconds to breathe, then looked up. “I can pretend. I don’t love you—I’ve told you this, though I don’t like having to keep saying it. But I can pretend.” He put a hand on the side of Rhys’s face. “But I won’t do that either. That’s… that’s not right. There are still things I won’t do.”
“No, I get that,” Rhys hurried to agree.
“Okay, then. Let’s go.”
It started off well enough. The kisses, touches, bites, and nips they exchanged didn’t cause even a blip with Jack. Then the directions had them moving to the bed before stripping each other, but Rhys apparently got a little lost in it and went for Patrick’s tunic early. Jack cut it, reminded Rhys what the order of the scene was, then started again.
The thing was—and Patrick realized this after only the second take—it just didn’t feel natural to do it that way. He got why Jack wanted it—he wanted Rhys to follow the buttons with a kiss. But after resetting four times, they both kept getting hung up on it.
Finally, Rhys convinced Jack to let it go and let them just keep going. “We’ll do everything, okay? We’ll even appear to suck each other’s cocks. Just… let us handle the order, okay? Will that make you happy?”
Jack scowled. “Maybe.” But he nodded. “Fine. We’ll see how it goes.”
Rhys sighed and shook his head, shooting Pa
trick a look. “I swear, he’s getting gayer and gayer with each scene,” he muttered, making Patrick laugh.
They took their places again, waited for the calls, and then Rhys caught Patrick’s mouth in a kiss. Patrick knew, in the back of his mind, Rhys was imagining they were really making love. But there was nothing Patrick could do about it. I’m sorry, Chance. I wish it was you, he thought, then pushed it away and gave back to Rhys what Rhys was giving him. He parted his lips, his tongue sliding along Rhys’s, his hands going up into Rhys’s curls.
One of Rhys’s hands slid down his back to cup his ass, and Patrick bucked against Rhys, grinding into Rhys’s already partially erect cock. His own reacted, and Patrick fought to push his regret over it away. He and Chance had done everything they could to keep it from happening, but Patrick had known deep down that it would anyway.
Rhys groaned at the grinding, his other hand cupping the back of Patrick’s head, the kiss deepening. Patrick bucked again when Rhys’s hand flexed on his ass, and his cock filled even more. He pulled back, meeting Rhys’s eyes, then reached up to unbutton Rhys’s tunic. Without looking away, Patrick worked the first few buttons open, and he could see the naked want in Rhys’s eyes. And he knew only part of it—and probably a very small part, at that—was acted.
Patrick broke the gaze and leaned in, leaving soft kisses on Rhys’s chest. He kept at the buttons, maintaining the slow pace. Rhys’s hands came up to his back, then pushed his hair aside, and when Patrick paused, Rhys dove in to nip at Patrick’s neck. Patrick let his head fall back, eyes closing as Rhys bit a line along the column of his throat. When Rhys stopped, Patrick pushed the tunic off, hands slowly working it over shoulders and down arms. Rhys let it drop to the floor, then started on Patrick’s.
Rhys worked as slowly as Patrick had, stopping to brush his fingers over naked skin or kiss here or there, then bending to kiss Patrick’s lips or nibble his neck. When the tunic was open, Rhys mirrored Patrick’s movements and pushed it over his shoulders, but caressed his skin as it went down his arms. When it was gone, Rhys turned Patrick around, pulled the rest of his hair aside, and kissed him—ear first, tracing the shell, then nibbling on his earlobe.
Rhys ran one hand over Patrick’s chest, stopping to flick his thumb over each nipple. Patrick had no idea how Rhys could manage to keep his wits about him and bite at Patrick’s neck at the same time, but he did it. And every bite on Patrick’s neck and flick of thumb to nipple went straight to Patrick’s cock, hardening it.
By the time Rhys brushed his hand along Patrick’s stomach, his skin felt too sensitive. He could feel the air ghosting over it, and coupled with the bites Rhys was still giving to his neck, his cock filled even further. Patrick had the briefest thought break through that Jack hadn’t cut once. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not.
Then Rhys bit down hard on Patrick’s neck at the same time as he slid one hand inside Patrick’s pants, and clear thought fled. He groaned—he couldn’t stop it—when that hand covered his cock, stroking it. Patrick struggled to get a handle on himself and his body, and he tightened the hand he had on Rhys’s hip in warning. Too much.
Rhys apparently understood the warning because his hand loosened so there was only the lightest touch. The other tugged at the ties to Patrick’s pants, and the haze of arousal faded quite a bit when the fabric opened and dropped to his ankles, exposing him yet again to Jack, Bob, and everyone else watching. He’d gotten better about it, but he still didn’t like showing himself like this, especially aroused. He looked up to meet Rhys’s gaze over his shoulder, and Rhys closed the distance, kissing him.
Patrick noticed Rhys’s hand stayed over his cock as he was nudged to turn and face Rhys. He was grateful for Rhys’s clear thinking there. He had no wish to show Jack his hard cock again.
Because it was hard. When Rhys moved his hand away, slid it around Patrick’s waist, and pulled until they were tight against each other, Patrick’s cock ground once more into Rhys’s equally hard length. Despite himself, it felt good, and Patrick let another groan out. He nearly bit his tongue to cut it off, but the look in Rhys’s eye said he didn’t stop it completely.
Patrick needed to move the scene along. He didn’t know how much more of this he could really do. It already felt way too much like Rhys was trying to truly make love with him. He needed to find a way to distance himself, even a little, from that.
He took a half step back, dropped his hands to Rhys’s pants, and pulled on the ties. When they were open, he went to his knees, hoping to get the cock-sucking part over with, but Jack shouted. “Cut!”
Patrick sighed and looked over. “What?” He knew there was irritation in his tone, but he couldn’t stop it.
Jack shook his head. “Too fast. Slow that part down. And… hmm….” He looked around the room. “Move over by the bed. Rhys, lean against one of the corner posts.” Jack tilted his head, then nodded. “Yes. That will work.”
Patrick was, in a way, grateful for the interruption, as it cleared his head and gave him the distance he’d wanted so badly, though he had a feeling it wouldn’t last. Patrick stood, waited for Rhys to grab his pants and put them back on; then they moved over to the bed together. Their eyes met as Rhys got into place and Rhys took his hands. Patrick blinked at him, but then the calls were made and he focused on the scene.
Rhys lifted his hands, kissing them before pulling until Patrick was against him again. He ran his hands over Patrick’s back and nuzzled Patrick’s ear. “I love you,” he whispered, and Patrick sucked in a breath.
“Rhys—”
“Shh, pretend, remember?” Rhys reminded him.
It annoyed him. It was one thing to force the loving, force the intimate and pretend for the sake of the camera, but he was not going to say words like that when they weren’t scripted. Or true. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down, then kissed the side of Rhys’s face and whispered, “I am. But I’m not saying something I don’t mean, Rhys.” With that he kissed his way down Rhys’s chest slowly until he was kneeling. He looked up, meeting Rhys’s dark eyes, and had to look away from the sorrow in them. Damn him.
Patrick forced the irritation back. It wouldn’t get them through this scene any faster. He ran his hands down Rhys’s chest, then kissed a line along the top of Rhys’s pants as he slowly untied them, hoping it would be enough for Jack. When they were open, Patrick stayed in front of Rhys’s cock as best he could, trying to hide it enough from the camera. Though that was more so they wouldn’t have to redo this part again than for any modesty.
He looked up as he helped Rhys step out of the pants, then knelt up, positioning himself close to, but most definitely not on, Rhys’s cock. He should have known it wouldn’t be good enough.
Before he could pretend to bob even once, Jack cut the scene. “That’s not going to work,” Jack said, approaching.
Once more, Patrick found himself naked on his knees in front of Jack, and it was the last place he wanted to be in the world. He scowled up at the director. “What now?”
Jack shook his head and shifted around them. “I’m not sure, but your positioning isn’t quite….” He stepped back and moved around them, muttering to himself.
Patrick and Rhys exchanged companionable looks, which made Patrick feel a little better. Despite everything else going on, neither of them really wanted Jack microdirecting the whole damned scene. As particular as he’d already been, Patrick’s nerves, with Rhys’s insistence on trying to make love for real, were shot. “Look. We’ve been over this. I am not actually sucking his cock for you, Jack. I’m not getting paid to do real porn.”
Jack scowled. “I’m not asking for real porn. But you suck cock—can’t you make it look more real?”
Patrick was caught between being seriously pissed and seriously embarrassed.
Surprisingly, it was Rhys who spoke, sounding angry himself. “What the fuck is that for, Jack?”
“What?” Jack asked, irritation and bafflement clear in the single wor
d.
“What does his—or any of our—sexuality have to do with what we can or can’t do on set?”
Jack’s scowl deepened for a brief moment, and then he frowned. “Sorry,” he muttered reluctantly. “Look, just… uh… move your head to the left a little, kind of, uh, line it up better?”
Patrick sent a grateful look to Rhys, who smiled at him; then he shifted the way Jack had asked him to. It did, of course, put him directly in front of Rhys’s cock, as he was sure Jack intended. He put his hand over said length, though he didn’t really want to touch it that much—at least not until Jack made him—to hold it down.
When the calls were made, he tried again, but Jack cut it. Again.
Patrick sighed and sat back on his heels. “Now what?”
“Closer, really, Patrick, it’s almost there, but there’s still something that just looks off about it.”
Patrick looked up and met Rhys’s eyes. Rhys shrugged apologetically, and Patrick tried not to growl. He failed. “Okay, look, Jack. I’m pretty damned sure that, from the camera’s perspective from behind me, it looks like I’m blowing him. Seriously, how much of this are you putting in, anyway?”
Jack frowned and shook his head. “Just, uh, try a little more?” He backed up to next to the camera.
Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was very little more he could do without actively stroking or sucking Rhys. He looked up at Rhys, who reached out and brushed a thumb over his cheek. He held up a finger and squatted next to Patrick. “Look, I don’t want you to actually suck my cock. Not on screen, anyway,” he added when Patrick’s eyebrows shot up, and Patrick snickered. “Right, but… if you put your hand around me, I’d bet you can hold it just out of the way enough to make him happy.”
Patrick frowned. This was getting closer and closer to real sex, and he was not happy about it. But he was already getting fed up with pretending to have sex with Rhys. They’d already been at it for well over an hour. To shoot five minutes of film. And they still had a lot more to go. He sighed. “Fine.”
Rhys didn’t look too happy about his reluctance, but Patrick wasn’t happy about this. Rhys stood and got back into place. Patrick rose up on his knees, wrapped his hand around Rhys’s cock—causing Rhys to hiss—and tried not to think about pleasuring Rhys, because he knew this was going to.
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