he was on a roller coaster. He craved that—wanted that. He was desperate for a moment that he could choose for himself and not out of fear for the consequences if he broke his vow. ‘I don’t know how to do that.’
‘I know,’ Rocco said. He reached out this time, touching Simon’s cheek, then dragging his hand down to cup the back of his neck. He held there for a long time, letting the warmth of his palm soothe Simon’s frayed nerves. ‘I like it here.’
‘Say that in a month,’ Simon replied with a laugh, and Rocco rolled his eyes.
‘Two months. Six months. Ten years. I don’t know where we’ll be, but I like you. I want this with you.’
Simon glanced away, just for a second, just to give himself some reprieve from the intensity he saw in Rocco’s eyes.
‘Simon,’ Rocco signed, and he smiled—just a little bit, mostly in the eyes, and at the corners of his mouth. ‘I just got out of a long-term relationship. I didn’t love him—I don’t know if I ever loved him. I want to move slow. But I want to see where this goes. I don’t want to stop when we’re done with this,’ he indicated the hallway, and Simon knew what he meant.
It was like Rocco could read him, those quiet, anxious parts of him he was too afraid to voice. He breathed out, air shaking in his chest, but something felt settled. ‘Thank you.’
Rocco nodded, then he stood up and extended his hand. Simon didn’t hesitate, even if his anxiety began to ramp up again, but Rocco held him fast, didn’t hurry toward the bedroom. He paused in the doorway, pressing Simon to the hard, unforgiving wood, then kissed him hard enough to make him forget that it was painful against his spine.
He let go, then let Simon take the lead—let Simon take that first step into something that would surely change his life forever. But, he realized as he stared at the small camera set up, and the turned-down blankets, and the shaded windows, it might just be for the better.
Chapter Thirteen
Rocco didn’t need Simon to tell him he was nervous. It was apparent in the slight tremble of his fingers, and the tension in his spine, even as he led the way into the bedroom. Rocco didn’t exactly mind, though. This was Simon’s first time with all of it. No one had ever explored the soft expanse of Simon’s body before him and it was erotic, though that was such a shallow word for the way it made him feel.
Rocco had never set much value in the idea of virginity. He respected it, respected the way it made people feel, but he had never used it to measure worth. New actors who hadn’t done much on screen or with a private partner didn’t hold more or less appeal when he filmed with them.
Eric himself hadn’t dated much before he had gone to work for Rocco. He’d been nervous too, though not like this. He worried about pleasing Rocco, about measuring up to the scenes Rocco had on screen. And Rocco couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t get pleasure out of them, because he did. It was fucking, and he very much enjoyed fucking. But Eric never seemed to understand that what he wanted in his life and in the privacy of his bedroom was not what he was paid to do on camera.
He hated himself a little for how often he was comparing Simon to his ex, but he supposed that was also normal. Eric had been Rocco’s first real adult relationship. He’d dated in college—a few weeks here, a month or two there. Nothing that stuck, nothing that had substance or meaning.
Even Eric felt shallow at first. It was forbidden fruit—sneaking around on set and fucking his interpreter, then filming a scene with Eric right there—watching, hands flying with stage direction and dialogue. He loved it. And it became more, but it never became enough.
With Simon, it was different, and he needed to figure out what that meant. But, not now.
The lights were low in the room and everything was set up. Rocco had spent a few hours before heading to Simon’s testing angles and filming a couple scenes of himself jacking off and playing with toys. He kept it active, kept himself moving, and he knew that the videos would need some editing, but not much. He didn’t have expert skill in amateur videos—he had never been