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by
It was an ordinary day at DragonFire Films. Wendy and Adam were barricaded in the conference room, struggling to finish a rewrite of Beverly Hills Gun Club. Uncle Lonnie was loitering in the lobby. Stuart lounged at his desk, feet up, looking obscenely happy and relaxed. Peter Dragon was late as usual, but since Stuart was the only one aware of that, everyone else scurried around, frantic to meet their all-important deadlines.
Peter Dragon swept in two hours and ten minutes late. He handed Lonnie a donut, yelled at Adam and Wendy through the closed doors, and hurried toward his office. Stuart heard him coming and stood expectantly. "Good morning, Peter," he said, just like he always did. From the outside, everything about Stuart was completely normal. There was no way to tell how his insides quivered uncontrollably, how the slow lazy smile Peter gave him sent a jolt straight to his groin.
"Stuart," Peter said by way of a greeting, quietly composed and at ease. There was something new in his eyes, something heavy and sated, satisfied. He moved toward his office, still with that lazy smile, then stopped suddenly and turned. "Stuart, could I see you in my office please?"
Stuart nodded mindlessly and followed Peter into his office, leaving a passing group of writers wondering at Peter Dragon's use of 'please'.
Dragon locked the door behind them. The shades were drawn, shading the room from the outside world. Peter's lazy smile turned predatory as he moved toward Stuart. "I enjoyed our time together last night," he said quietly, placing his hands on Stuart's shoulders. He leaned in until he was only centimeters away, close enough that Stuart could feel Peter's breath on his face, his lips. "I'd like to do it again sometime."
Stuart gasped for breath as a gentle hand stroked his cheek. "Any time," he whispered, struggling to control the bright ping-ping-ping exploding flashes of desire that danced through his body, making it hard to breathe, to stand up, to see straight.
Dragon smiled triumphantly and stepped back. "Good," he said, and grinned again. "How about now?"
Stuart blinked, once, twice, the shock that was evident on his face fighting with desire for control. Shock and common sense won out. "Peter, we can't. Not here, at the studio . . . there's so many people around," he protested.
Dragon looked away, moved to put the desk between him and Stuart. "So you don't want me?" he asked, shuffling papers on his desk. Stuart moved quickly, banging his thigh on the corner of the desk, not caring, just wanting to get rid of that depressed, stricken look on Peter's gorgeous face. "No, Peter, oh no . . . " Stuart reached out to hold Peter, rubbing his back gently. "I want you, Peter, I do. It's just that I think it's not a good idea to take that kind of risk with so many people around."
Peter looped his arms around Stuart's waist pressed the faintest promise of a kiss against the other man's lips. "There's a little hallway right next to the conference room. At the end, there's an office that nobody uses anymore. Sit down at your desk and do something. I'll go now, you follow in fifteen minutes."
Stuart wanted to protest, but couldn't. "Yes," he whispered, then laughed crazily. Peter kissed him gently, a sweet, sincere press of lips that surprised them both. Stuart followed Peter when he pulled away, unwilling to lose the tender, loving contact between them. Peter, his eyes dewy, kissed Stuart again.
"Fifteen minutes," Peter reminded Stuart softly. They walked hand in hand to the door, where they kissed one last time. Stuart walked, a bit shakily, back to his desk and flopped gratefully into his chair. A minute later, Peter emerged from his office and walked purposefully toward the conference room. Stuart watched his delicious, tight ass and longed to fuck him.
The clock on the wall ticked off the last of the fifteen minutes, and Stuart smiled. He struggled not to look overly eager as he shuffled some papers, then grabbed a random folder and headed for the conference room.
Peter was waiting for him there, sitting cross-legged on a desk. His jacket and tie were off, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. "Hello," he said, hopping off the desk and taking two steps toward Stuart. Stuart locked the door behind him, and Peter grinned. "Good boy," he near-purred, pressing his front against Stuart's back and beginning to work at the buttons of his shirt.
It took less than a minute to strip Stuart completely naked.Peter led him over to a couch against the far wall, where they sat down together. "What do you want, Stuart?" Peter asked quietly, one hand stroking the inside of Stuart's thigh. "Do you want it to be like last night? Or maybe you want something different?"
Stuart had undone Peter's belt and was now working at his pants. "Something different," he murmured. He pulled Peter up, kissing him solidly as he slid Dragon's pants down around his hips.
Stuart pushed the now-naked Peter back, sprawling him on the couch. He stretched luxuriously atop Peter, smiling as the other man gasped in anticipation. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you, Peter?" Stuart asked airily, pulling away suddenly. Peter whimpered and followed him, eyes tightly closed. Hands on his shoulders pushed him back, and he opened his eyes.
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked, his voice small.
"I," Stuart murmured, "am going to fuck you. I'm going to give you the most delicious fuck of your life."
Dragon shuddered. There was a hand between his legs, long slim fingers trailing over his cock, his balls. One probed gently at his ass, making him arch off the couch, crying out desperately, yearning for more.
Stuart kissed Peter tenderly. "Nobody's ever done this to you before, have they?" he whispered, breathing gently on Peter's cheek. "You don't like to be touched, do you? You shy away from people because you're afraid they'll find out who you are."
Peter whimpered, hips arching upward. "You want this?" Stuart asked, one finger stroking Peter's cock. "Say the word and it's yours."
Peter's eyes were crystal-clear, shimmering a little. "Fuck me, Stuart," he said quietly. "I want you inside me."
"Roll over," Stuart whispered, his voice laced with desire. Peter obeyed quickly, flipping over to lay facedown on the couch.
There was something alien on Peter's ass, something slick and cool and liquid-with an aroused jolt, Peter remembered the small bottle of oil he had set on the coffee table. He felt Stuart's fingers spreading him wide, and for a moment Peter forgot where he was, he couldn't help a little moan of terror.
Stuart kissed the back of his neck lightly, his touch on Peter's side soothing. "It's alright, I won't hurt you," he murmured. Dragon took a deep breath.
"Okay, he said after a moment. "It's okay. I just got freaked out for a minute there." Another kiss on the back of his neck, and the fear was gone, replaced by burning, throbbing desire.
Peter felt Stuart pressing up close behind him. He smiled quiveringly, every ounce of him yearning, aching for this.
Stuart slipped into him slowly, easily. It hurt more than a little-Peter was still relatively new to this. But it was a delicious pain, one Peter welcomed and relished. The pain let him know he was alive, let him know he was breathing, and let him know someone wanted him-something Peter sometimes doubted.
There was no doubting now. Not with Stuart inside him, the glorious feeling of being full, complete. Peter shifted unconsciously, and Stuart groaned. His voice electrified Peter, who let loose with a string of semi-profane pleas, begging Stuart to quit screwing around and get down to business.
Stuart moved. A little, a lot, Peter was never sure. All he knew was that suddenly there was nothing, nothing left in the world except the man behind him and the place where they were joined.
Peter didn't even know he was going to come. So focused on Stuart, on the incredible pleasure of being fucked, Peter barely noticed his own arousal until Stuart's hand slipped off his shoulder, glided over his belly to circle his cock. Teeth closed on Peter's shoulder, a gentle possessive bite, and he came hard, Stuart's name riding on his cry. Stuart thrust once more, whimpered, and followed him, his panting breaths scaldingİhot against Peter's cheek.
It wasn't easy to lay together on the couch, but they somehow managed it, Peter cradled safely on Stuart's chest. A hour had passed since Peter had left his office, and Stuart knew it was probably time to go back.
"Do you know," Peter said conversationally, "You're my first?"
"No," Stuart said in disbelief. "You've never . . ."
Peter laughed. "I've had sex before," he said, turning his face to press his lips against Stuart's chest. "But unless you count Cole Riccardi, you're my first gay relationship." Stuart kissed him. "What's more," Peter continued, "I think you're the first one to make love to me."
Stuart looked thoroughly confused. "I thought you said you've had sex before."
Peter nodded. "And I have. But Stuart, there was no emotion there. They were sleeping with me because that's the way you get ahead in this town. But I don't think that's what you're after. Is it?" Peter added the last bit almost as an afterthought.
Stuart shook his head, stroked Peter's hair. "No, it's not."
"Then why are you doing this, Stuart? Just out of curiosity."
Stuart sighed and buried his nose in Peter's hair. "I don't know, Peter. At first . . . I'm not really sure. Just for the sex, I guess." Peter squirmed, clearly upset by Stuart's words. "But that's not it anymore," Stuart added hastily. "Something changed. When we were together last night, I didn't notice it. But this morning-Peter, as I held you in my arms and watched the sun come up, I realized I want something more."
"What?" Peter rolled over so he faced Stuart. He slung a leg over Stuart's thighs, rested his chin on Stuart's chest. "I want to wake up every morning with you. I want to hold your hand when you cry. I want to lay with you at night and kiss you. I know this sounds corny, but Peter . . . I think I've fallen in love with you."
Dragon's eyes were closed. As Stuart watched, a single tear slipped from beneath the producer's paper-thin lids.
"Peter? Sweetie, are you okay?" Stuart's hand traced wide, comforting circles on Peter's back. "Come on, talk to me."
"I never thought anyone would say that to me," Peter whispered, the tears coming faster now. "I never thought anyone could love me."
There was nothing to say. Nothing Stuart could do, save holding Peter until the tears ended and he relaxed.
Peter yawned suddenly, making them both laugh. "Sleepy?" Stuart asked, and Peter nodded. Stuart rolled so he was laying on his side, Peter facing him, wrapped securely in his arms. They laid there, faces millimeters apart, and descended into a place where there was no anger, no pain, where there was only the two of them and the incredible bond they had found.
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