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His Hero by Harris, Tara (1)

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

“Ah, Mr. Ainsley, are we together once again?” Charles Porter asked the slightly younger man, the man with the broad shoulders and chiseled face that set millions swooning at the pictures every week.

“Problem with that?” Hugh Ainsley asked. Even after countless movies together, he was never quite sure where he stood with the urbane, sophisticated Charles. Charles had a certain arch way of speaking to him, a certain way that he looked at him, that always made him nervous. Maybe it was Charles's sophisticated English accent to his own flat, Midwestern tones, or maybe it was the fact that, while every theater-going woman in America swooned over his own heroic acts in each film, he was secretly attracted to the villainous Charles, eagerly looking forward to every fight scene, hoping for those occasional moments when their bodies came into contact with each other.

“Object to working with you? Not at all,” Charles replied with his signature smirk. “As heroes come, you’re my absolute favorite.”

Hugh swallowed uneasily, unsure whether there was more hidden below the surface of that comment, or whether he just wished that were the case. Things like this—they were always a careful dance. He needed to tip his hand slightly, but not so much as to give up the works in case he was wrong. It wasn’t a mistake he could afford to make. Yeah, he had a pretty face, but there were miles of men who would be only too eager to take his place if the Studio let him go. While he was searching for something to say, Charles continued to speak.

“So, what terrible, perilous cliffhanger do we have in store for us in the latest installment of Jane In Jeopardy?” Charles asked.

Hugh motioned to the busy set, and Charles laughed. “That’s our Jane, game for anything, isn’t she?”

“Just another day in Astoria, right?” Hugh said, trying to keep his voice and body steady as Jane Rawlston, the gimlet eyed beauty who was America’s latest sweetheart, straddled a large wooden log. The director pointed to a rope, and one of his assistants brought it over to Jane. Hugh had more than a sneaking suspicion as to how that length of rope was about to be used.

“Ah, good old Pinnacle Studios— you never know what fresh hell the script will call for,” Charles replied, as they watched Jane agreeably submit to being trussed up.

Hugh felt an odd tremor watching his friend Jane- the surprisingly peaceful look on her face as her hands were drawn back over her head and bound at her wrists, her body tied to a large wooden log. The rope was thick and scratchy looking, making his wrists tingle as he wondered if it hurt. He could almost feel the rope pressing against his own body, holding him in place, restraining him. He saved Jane in every picture in the serial, but what would happen if he didn’t? What if Charles’ character tied him up too, standing menacingly over his captive body?

Jane’s red painted lips opened wide, and a thick white handkerchief was pressed between them. Hugh could taste the linen in his own mouth, its lavender scent sending his senses reeling. Hugh coughed. There was something uncomfortably stirring about the scene.

“You’re the one who did this to her, you know,” Hugh said, a forced casualness to his voice.

“I can’t help it— I’m the villain. And you’ll end up saving her— yet again.”

“What’s wrong with being a hero? It’s better than being the evil villain. Villains are just—“

“Villains are the people that everyone loves to hate. We are richly complex, tortured souls.”

“Everyone loves a hero.”

“Everyone wishes he was the hero. Or bedding the virile hero.”

“Some people might say the same about the seductive villain,” Hugh replied, feeling a surprising burst of heat coursing through his veins, blood that he feared was heading to the one place it shouldn’t. “Although of course there aren't any of those sorts of shenanigans going on behind the scenes of this picture,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth far smoother than expected. “I can assure you that Jane in Jeopardy is one series where none of the leads are in bed with each other.”

“Is it?”

Hugh stared at him in shock. “Well, that’s true on my end. Unless... don’t tell me you’re sleeping with Jane?”

Charles smiled. “How would you take it if I was?”

Hugh gave him a hard stare.

“Ah, so it’s like that, is it?” Charles asked softly.

“It’s like what?” Hugh asked, annoyed.

“Someone’s jealous.”

“Sure, tell yourself that. The truth is, Jane isn’t my type.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“Then why accuse me of being jealous because I’m not bedding her?”

“I wasn’t. I think you’re jealous OF Jane.”

Hugh felt all the air rush out of his body. An actor, you’re an actor, man, remember that. “Jealous of Jane? Just because she has top billing on the marquee?”

“I think you’re jealous of Jane because my devilish villain has her tied up and is going to menace her.”

“Have you lost your mind, Charles? Why would I ever want to be tied up like that? And at your mercy, no less?”

“Why indeed,” Charles said. “And yet...”

Charles had a surprisingly knowing look on his face. Hugh couldn’t help it- he looked down... just to be sure.

“Needed to check on something?” Charles asked. “Only around half mast, so far. Hope there won’t be any trouble when we start shooting the scene, or you’ll give the audience an unexpected thrill.”

Hugh’s nostrils flared. “How dare you?” He demanded.

“Pretending it isn’t there? Think I don’t know a bulge when I see one?”

“Keep going like that Charles, and you’ll be sporting a black eye in the film.”

“Ooh, rough stuff, are you now? I think I like this side of you, Hugh.”

“Angry?”

Aroused. It seems that America's Number One Heartthrob can certainly throb when he wants to. You're growing as we speak. That's quite an erection that you're getting.”

“Charles, I warned you,” Hugh said, drawing his arm back.

But instead of connecting with Charles’s smirking face, Charles had him by the wrist and was pulling him into an alcove created by other scenery panels and props, and on past the door hidden behind it.

“A prop closet? You're taking me inside a prop closet?” It was dark, but some light filtered in from under the door.

“Quiet please, Mr. Ainsley. You'll need to keep it down if you don't want us to get caught,” Charles cautioned Hugh, keeping him in his grip even as he locked the door behind them. “Keep your voice down is what I meant. Another part of you definitely needs to be up for this.”

Holding Hugh’s wrist up high, and pushing him against the wall, Charles smiled menacingly. It was that villainous look that Charles gave the camera whenever Jane was about to fall prey to his many dastardly traps.

But this was no movie.

And Hugh was certainly not an unwilling victim.

“I still have a free hand, you know,” Hugh said, although he had no desire to use it. If anything, he wanted to wrap it around Charles's neck and pull that delectably smirking face in for a kiss, the kind of passionate kiss that he had always dreamed of whenever he thought of his handsome, debonair co-star.

“Yes, you do have a free hand, and I hope you use it,” Charles replied. “I’m just as hard as you are.”

“I’m not--”

“If this isn’t hard, then I don’t know what is,” Charles said, pressing up against him.

If he wanted to protect his secret, Hugh needed to punch Charles, or at least push him away. But Charles was hard as a rock, and feeling him against him, his body beginning to move just slightly, just enough to tantalizingly rub up against him... Hugh couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t hold back the need that was building inside him. Charles— it was like a dream. All this time, watching, waiting, hoping, but not daring-- Charles-- how many films had they been in together, how many fight scenes had they filmed where they wound up grappling with each other? How many times had he left filming for the day, all by himself, only to soothe his loneliness with his hand, all the while dreaming it was Charles’s smirking mouth, lips curled in that incredibly menacing way...

He couldn’t help himself. A needy whimper escaped his throat.

“Seems you like being manhandled, my dear,” Charles said thickly, continuing to move against him with that same slow, seductive rhythm.

My dear?” Hugh asked, feeling much less refined as his hips bucked forward, his body desperate for more contact.

“Yes,” Charles said, leaning forward to nip him on his ear. “Yes, my dear hero. And I have some very villainous plans for you.”

“Then our friend Jane,” Hugh said breathlessly, “you aren’t—“

“Of course not, but if needed, she’ll swear that she is having a love affair with either one of us. She has her own love interest to cover for.”

“I’d wondered... our friend Marjorie, Marjorie from wardrobe?”

“She doesn’t just dress Jane. To hear Jane tell it, Marjorie has been doing a hell of a job undressing her for the past year.”

“But why didn't Jane ever tell me? I thought we've been friends for a few years now.”

“She wasn't certain about you. Not about being her friend, but about being--”

“But then how did she know that about you? I didn't know that about you.”

“I once accidentally walked into her dressing room at the wrong time. Apparently, my lack of a reaction to seeing her naked was enough of a tip-off about my interests. After that, we were able to open up to each other more.”

Hugh nodded, mollified.

“We have to be in the next scene in this picture in a few minutes,” Charles said, “that’s why this is going to be quick and dirty,” Charles said, tugging on the front of Hugh’s pants. “But tonight,” he smiled. “Tonight you’ll get to experience what it’s like to be tied up by the menacing villain.”

“Just tied up?”

Charles smiled. “Don’t you know what always happens in those scenes?”

“I save the heroine?”

Charles shook his head. “The hero always comes.”

“And the villain?” Hugh asked hoarsely as Charles handled him inside his pants. Charles smirked at him as his cock eagerly pushed out of his boxer shorts.

Hugh looked down, embarrassed by how eager his body was, his cock dripping with excitement.

“You have a very nice one,” Charles said, his voice a seductive purr. “A cock that deserves to be savored.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Hugh gulped, his eyes widening as Charles undid his pants, revealing a very impressive erection, his cock strong, firm and perfectly formed.

“Everyone always secretly wants the villain to have his way with them,” Charles said, grabbing Hugh’s hand and pushing it against his prominent bulge. “And tonight, my dear, you'll get fucked by the villain just as hard as he pleases.”

Leaning in, Charles covered Hugh’s hips with his own, stroking his length as he ground against him. Flesh against flesh, their cocks rubbing together, a rubbing that was anything but dry--

“If anyone finds us—,” Hugh said nervously, trying to fight the powerful arousal that was building inside him.

“They won't. Pretty much everyone is on set right now, hardly anyone knows that this particular prop closet even exists, and I locked the door. Now, let’s see how fast I can make you come.”

“But if anyone... we can be—,” Hugh began, but his words turned to grunts as Charles increased his speed.

“Believe me, I understand the danger. I once left a bar minutes before it was raided. Things could have been all over for me if I had stayed,” Charles said with a shudder, pulling a clean handkerchief out of his pocket. “Which is why we are going to have to be quick about this. And which is why I’m going to need you to bite down on this.”

Hugh nodded, opening his mouth so Charles could fit the handkerchief.

“Good boy,” Charles said, approvingly. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”

What he had was a wet, throbbing cock that was desperate for release.

At home, he had a stack of movie magazines that helped him off to sleep at night, but there was one specific spread of a fight scene between him and Charles that did it every time. That scene where their bodies had more than touched, where they had actually been wrestling on the ground. That scene where he had terrified himself when his cock accidentally twitched at one point during their grappling.

And now...

And now he could barely breathe as Charles rubbed their cocks together, adding the friction of both their hands, the pressure building up from deep within his balls, that thick seam throbbing with arousal, both their cockheads dripping over their hands, over their hard lengths of flesh.

He wished the feeling could go on forever, but his body couldn’t resist racing toward the finish, his hips thrusting forward faster and faster as they both ground against each other as hard as they could.

Thank goodness for the wadded up handkerchief, which muffled the grunts he was making, which quieted his desperate bellow as he erupted, his cock going off like a volcano, until he had soaked them both, his balls more than just damp with exertion, his hairs glistening with his own spendings.

He pulled out the handkerchief, panting, as his body attempted to recover.

Charles, smirk always at the ready, leaned in for a kiss, a full open mouth kiss, his tongue gliding over his own, his tongue probing as deeply as possible, Charles’s hand still working their cocks together, a friction that was almost too much for him as the other man finally spurted, bathing them both with his thick cum.

But that wasn’t all. His hips buckled as Charles kneeled down and licked him, tasting his glistening, overly sensitive cock. It was pleasure bordering on pain as Charles continued to lick him, lapping up every last drop. He pressed his lips together to keep from gasping out.

“Well, my dear,” Charles said, rising, his mouth wet. “You’ve certainly shown yourself to be every inch the hero.”

“Do you want me to... er, would you like me to...” Hugh asked nervously.

“Darling, if you only knew how many of my dreams involved that lovely mouth of yours wrapped around my cock,” Charles said, leaning in for another kiss.

Tasting himself on the other man’s lips was too much. Hugh groaned into Charles's mouth.

“Oh yes, that’s my darling,” Charles said, as the kiss ended.

My darling. The words, uttered quietly, reverberated in Hugh’s ears as he sank to his knees, ready to clean Charles. My dear. My darling. Oh, for Charles to call him such wonderful things was a dream come true. But for how long could this dream last?

Charles had promised more tonight, but after that... even if they both wanted it, how long could they manage moments like this without attracting suspicion?

He shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t hurt himself by wondering about a future that could not exist. For now, he had to live in the moment. And this moment involved licking up the mess that he had made, of savoring every last wonderful drop of cum that had coated Charles’s cock, balls and belly.

Trying to keep from moaning, Hugh lapped at the other man’s body, reveling in his devilishly delicious sauce.