Page 5 of Ashley & the A-Listers (Sweetverse)

5. LONG DISTANCE

CAMERON

Time was ticking. Literally.

Axel stared across the hotel lobby, the elevator chiming weakly behind him over and over again, broken.

Flipped couches and shattered glass and abandoned luggage and dirt from shattered plant pots littered the previously pristine floors of a high-class hotel, along with several dead bodies.

And on the opposite side of all the chaos, amongst the clearing smoke from gunfire and explosions, Roderick Gaven.

His hand was wrapped around the upper arm of the most perfect man in the world.

Cale Camellia, who winced as Roderick jammed the gun harder against his temple.

“Stop right there!” Roderick’s voice rang out over the discord, and Axel couldn’t think.

But he could stop. So he did.

“I’ve got your number, Axel! I told you if you didn’t turn yourself over, I’d find you. And if I can’t find you, I can find what you care about. Or who, ” he growled, shaking Cale, who blinked dazedly, a wound at his head.

“Well, I’m right here!” Axel shouted, fists clenching by his side. “Come and get me!”

Roderick waved the gun. “No, no. I like this better! As long as I have him, I think you’ll do whatever I say as long as it means he’s safe.”

Axel’s breath came heavier, panic settling beneath his breastbone at the idea of losing Cale.

No. He had to figure something out.

He was out of ammo, his last borrowed gun scattered amongst the debris on the floor. He was too far away to fight, and they’d riddle him with bullets before he could get near them.

“Oh, don’t worry, Axel. I’ll take real good care of him.”

Roderick was inching closer and closer to the exit, the red sign above the door hanging half off, flickering, as if in warning.

One of his cronies, one of the only ones remaining, opened the door, the night outside beckoning.

Axel steeled himself, caught Cale’s bright green eyes with his own, and let him see his resolve.

He would find Cale Camellia.

That was a promise.

“So they do get separated?” Cam asked. “That’s tragic.”

“I know!” River groaned. “I feel so bad. How is he going to get him back? He’s one man against an entire fucking criminal empire.”

“He’s Axel Stevens. If anyone can do it, he can.”

On the phone, miles away, River sighed. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I always am, babe, that’s why you love me,” Cameron mused.

“Yeah, yeah,” River drawled, affection clear in his voice despite the distance separating them.

Cam hummed wistfully. “It’ll be easy to drop into character, at least, since I’m missing you right now.”

“If you’re saying that just to make me feel better… it’s working,” River admitted.

Cam’s smile was secret, just for the two of them. “Good. You shouldn’t fret so much. Everyone is going to love it.”

“They fucking better,” River groused. “I just submitted the changes, and I need a break.”

“You know, you write alpha action heroes surprisingly well for a beta,” Cam teased.

“You play them well, for an omega,” he returned, voice honeyed, his irritation dissipated. “How is everything on your end?”

“It’s… eh,” Cameron admitted.

He held the phone against his cheek as he collapsed back against the pillows of his bed.

Well, his temporary bed. It was nothing like his nest at home, but the harsh opulence of this too-modern townhouse would have to do until he finished shooting this movie. All sharp angles and white paint. But at least the bed was comfy, like a cloud. He sank into the fluffy white pillows and wished there was another body sinking in with him.

“Aw, what is it, babe?” River asked.

Cameron sighed, and soaked in River’s voice.

“My trainer and bodyguard are killing me,” Cameron muttered.

“Which one? Ashley?”

Cameron whined. Ashley wasn’t his only trainer, because he was learning more than one fighting style at a time, and he felt the aches in his body anew. But she was most certainly the one he talked about most.

“Yes, Ashley.”

“She and Dylan still aren’t getting along?”

“No! And it’s been a whole week!”

River chuckled, and on the other end of the phone, Cameron heard him inhale.

“Are you smoking?” Cameron asked.

The beta paused, and his voice was tight, lungs full as he said, “No?”

“Without me?” Cameron gasped, and pulled a gray throw pillow close as he rolled over, tucking the phone against his cheek and the bed.

“I miss you, too,” River said on his exhale.

Cameron could practically smell the musky scent of River’s weed through the line. If only it were real.

“It sucks without you here,” Cameron pouted. “Guess I got used to you being around.”

“That’s what happens when you’re in a relationship. Even if it is secret,” River told him with a soft, melty chuckle.

“I know, I know,” Cameron murmured. “How are things at home?”

Cameron missed home. He missed his low-lit nest and the pillows he’d had to leave behind and his favorite coffee mug. But most of all, he missed River and his dorky mustache and his shirts that smelled like half weed and half River, all papers and smoky ink.

“Boring, without you,” River professed after a long pause, and Cameron felt a bit brighter. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering without his emotional support partner.

“Sure you can make it the whole six weeks without me?” Cameron asked.

When they’d first started hooking up, near the end of filming the first movie, it was casual.

Then a year had passed, and no one had caught wind of their situation. When River was pulled in to write the second one, they’d kept a tight lid on it, just until we’re done filming.

But in the middle of shooting the second film, they’d gotten the green light for movies three and four.

He still remembered that night, the argument they’d had, the terrible, awful week they’d spent apart before realizing being together was better, even if it was in secret.

Cameron loved him whole-fucking-heartedly.

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” River retorted.

Cameron pouted at the phone. “I kind of hate it,” he confessed.

“Do you think they’ll stop at four?”

Cameron heard the hope in his voice. Rolling onto his back, Cameron stared up at the ceiling. “They haven’t said anything to you?”

“Not besides the hypotheticals. I sent another revision of the screenplay to them today. Now I’m just waiting.”

“I know you hate that part,” Cameron murmured. “To be honest, I don’t know. God, I mean, what else are you gonna put my character through? Do we really need five movies?”

Sure, it meant they were getting paid, and they had a solid job on the line, especially if they kept reprising this role, but… at what cost?

“I don’t know,” Cameron admitted again. “I don’t want to be a washed-up hack in five years, you know? I don’t want to be known for just this one role. I can do more than this.”

“And you are!” River told him. “Look at you, doing all your own stunts this time. The fighting alone is going to be so impressive. I should know; I wrote it.”

Cameron hummed a noncommital response and let the words lie.

“What do you want to be in five years then? If not Axel Stephens?” River asked.

The question was one Cam wasn’t prepared for. Everyone’s least favorite interview question: Where do you see yourself in five years?

Cameron didn’t know. “You’d be there,” Cameron started with, because it was the only certainty. “We’d be public, because the franchise would be done. We’d go to cute brunches and take pictures together and wear complimentary outfits to put the fans in a tizzy.”

“We’d look good in matcha and pink,” River said.

“I’ll be pink,” Cameron said, at the same moment River said, “I’ll wear green.”

“God, we’re cute,” Cam said, sighing.

“As for work? I don’t wanna work this hard forever. Constantly traveling, shooting, PR campaigns, photoshoots, brand deals—it’s… a lot. I sound like such an omega, but I don’t wanna stop working, just… not work as much. I love acting.”

This series exploding onto the scene felt like a stroke of luck. At first it had been a rush, thrilling, something new at every turn as he learned so much so quickly. The success was addicting, too. Cameron’s contract was… shiny. He was getting paid well for Axel Stephens and everything that came with it.

“Maybe just a break,” he continued. “Or maybe we can produce one of yours, be a famous duo, screenwriter and actor. An indie movie sounds fun.”

A pause. “You’d want to do that?”

“Of course,” Cam said, excitement filling him. “I love everything you write. I’ve always wanted to be in another romantic comedy. Do you think I’m funny?”

River snorted, then chuckled, and Cam heard the shuffle as he shook his head.

“You don’t want a normal life? On a pedestal somewhere with a pack?”

“Who’s to say a pack isn’t in our future?” Cam teased. “We can find a director and a sound designer… a light guy. A PA! We can collect ‘em all, and then produce our own movie. In house.”

“A porno?” River suggested, and Cam shouted out a laugh.

River’s laughter grew richer the more Cameron egged him on, and his heart seized. He missed him!

One would think dating the screenwriter would have its perks, but not when dating on set was practically forbidden. No one wanted to deal with the fallout of a breakup on set, especially when an omega was involved. They had to sneak around, which was fun in its own right, but sometimes Cam just wanted to go to dinner with his boyfriend.

Cam sighed, rolling over, and his abs protested. “No more action movies,” Cam declared. “I’m so sore.”

“Think of the gains,” River teased. “Do you think you’ll be able to throw me around the bedroom?” he asked suddenly, and Cameron’s lips twitched. River was no sack of flour. He was muscled and strong in his own way, and Cameron daydreamed of his tattooed arm flexing against his too-tight shirts.

“Guess we’ll have to try it and see, once you get here for filming,” Cameron teased.

“That’s so far from now,” River complained, and Cameron agreed.

“Are you suggesting we have phone sex?” Cameron asked, interest piqued.

River paused. “I might be.”

Cameron let his eyes drift shut, picturing River in his mind. Smoking with River almost always led to fooling around. He just got so loosey-goosey and half-lidded and hot as fuck. That stupidly hot mustache twitching into his signature carefree smile. Pushing his messy blond hair back with one of his deft hands.

“I miss you,” Cameron said with a sigh. “Wish I was there. Or you were here.”

“Oh yeah? What would you do if I was?” River asked.

Cameron rolled his eyes, lips twitching at the question. But his dick perked up, so he went with it.

“Smoke your weed,” Cameron said, and slipped into the warmth of River’s laugh. Cameron waited for it to fade before continuing. “Then I’d wait for you to get all soft. Push you back into the couch cushions and slide in your lap.”

“I like the sound of that,” River purred.

Cameron missed being close to someone. Physically feeling their weight sink into his, pressing firmly, sharing scents.

“I wanna be as close to you as possible,” Cameron said, and gave in, working at the button on his pants, and heard a rustle suggesting River was right there with him.

“I bought a candle, the other day. Scented like vanilla.”

Cameron’s heart seized, the fist River had around it clenching right inside his chest. “And?”

“It’s a poor imitation. Nothing like you. Only made me miss you more,” he admitted.

Cameron groaned, half tortured and a bit sad, and the other half horny and needy. “I wouldn’t even have the patience to suck you off,” Cameron muttered, and wrapped a hand around himself, gathering the slick on his fingers to ease the glide.

“Go on,” River murmured.

Cameron could picture it: River’s head slumped back against the couch, lips parted with ragged breaths as Cameron pulled their cocks out to work them in one fist.

“Can’t wait for that. I want you next to me, my hand gripping us both, stroking us together.”

River hummed over the line, breath stuttering. Cameron saw his arm flexing with each stroke, the head of him peeking out of his fist with each thrust.

“Or I could push you down the length of the couch, straddle you,” Cameron continued, fist sliding up and down his cock, squeezing around the head to make his eyes flutter, the vision crystal clear.

“Hot,” River groaned. “You’re so hot. I miss that.”

Nothing as hot as being so desperate for one another. “I can practically feel it,” Cameron groaned. “Our cocks sliding together, crushed between our stomachs.”

“You’d be leaking all over the place,” River added.

“I am,” Cameron told him, just to hear the way River whined about it. His slick spilled over his fist with every stroke, and his dulled scent was slowly filling the room. River would be drunk on it if he were here.

If he were here.

“Fuck,” River bit out.

“I know,” Cameron said. “I miss it, too. The sloppy, messy grinding. Just, whatever feels good. Whatever gets us there.”

“I want to press my fingers into your hips until they bruise, dragging you against me.”

Cameron shivered. It wouldn’t be the first time Cameron had walked around with River’s secret purpled fingerprints on his skin.

The ones River had left were long faded, and he missed them, missed being marked by him.

“Please,” Cameron whined, gripping himself tighter, feeling his back draw tight like a bow as he stroked himself to the sound of River’s bitten-out breaths.

“You get lazy when you get close,” River told him, and Cameron gasped out a chuckle. “But I love it. I love taking charge for that last little bit, holding you steady. Rocking my hips up into you, god, you are so slick, I can hear it.”

His fist stuttered on his cock, cheeks flaring red at the realization.

“Don’t stop,” River told him. “Don’t get lazy. I’m not there to finish you. You have to do it yourself.”

Cameron bit his lip and nodded, though River couldn’t see it. Instead he fisted his cock again and stroked, hips twitching into each thrust, his slick making it very obvious just how desperate he was.

“There you go,” River purred, and even though he wasn’t an alpha, Cameron imagined he could feel the sound rumble from his chest against his own.

If Cameron focused—not likely, as his orgasm flared bright again—he could hear the way River touched himself, too.

“I’m close,” River admitted, and Cameron echoed him. “This is the part where you’d bury your face in my neck, leave me to do all the work.”

Cameron couldn’t even find the humor, because the image, the memories of this exact scenario were too good, too real. “Nothing to do but drag you against me, cocks sliding against each other in our mess. Thighs squeezing tight around my hips.”

God, Cameron wanted it, wished it wasn’t just their words building the picture.

His cock kicked in his grip, and he groaned, head tilting back into the pillows as the phone slipped off his chest. He scrambled for it and laid it beside his ear, imagining he could feel the hot puff of River’s breaths there instead.

“Can practically feel you pulsing against me, alongside me, grinding into my stomach,” River continued. “You tense up right before you come, your whole body going stiff for a split second before you—fuck—spill,” he moaned. “Your—Your cute little cock twitching before you let go, covering us both—fuck, come on, baby, come with me.”

Cameron whined at River’s slight degradation, following River over the edge, their shared breaths panting over the line as Cameron’s cock did twitch, and then spilled over his fist, his body tensing with it, just like River remembered.

He pictured River doing the same, his back arched and body flexed as it worked through him. Cameron’s cheeks heated as he recalled River’s words.

“My cock is not little,” he grumbled, eyes still closed in the bliss of the aftershocks.

“No, it’s not,” River agreed. “But it got you off, didn’t it?”

River’s chuckle was all wind chimes and sunshine as Cameron muttered.

Now he was sleepy, eyes gluing shut.

“If only you were here for an afterglow cuddle,” he murmured.

“I know, baby. I miss you, too,” River said.

“Just a few more weeks, then maybe I can find a weekend to fly home for a bit,” Cameron promised to himself just as much as to River.

“That sounds perfect. See you soon, then,” River said.

After their goodbyes, Cameron couldn’t find it in him to drop off that ledge into a deep sleep.

Fuck.

He got out of bed, cleaned himself up, and returned only to pout up at the generic painting across the room. It was of a stupid fucking river, of course, with pink blooms on the trees and bright green grass.

Cameron missed his stupid boyfriend.

What a fucking sap I am.

There was nothing hotter than a good frotting session, except maybe waking up next to the motherfucker.

“God dammit,” he snapped, and turned over, curling around a pillow. Once it had held the remnants of River’s scent, but now it was worn out and bare all but for Cameron’s own muted sweet scent.

He knew he sounded a bit whiny even inside his own head, but he’d allow it for the moment. Tomorrow he’d be back to normal and kicking Ashley’s ass on the mat.

He snorted.

Yeah, right.

Ashley had been practically throwing him around the room.

Turns out kickboxing was a lot harder than it seemed.

But he’d get it together. He was already leagues ahead of where he’d started, and it had only been a week. Despite Dylan’s gloomy mood and the tension that filled a room whenever he and Ashley shared one, he’d been learning a lot from the alpha.

She kicked ass.

Sometimes he just wished it wasn’t his own.

Maybe she should kick Dylan’s ass. They could work out their issues on the mat.

That’s… not a bad idea, Cameron decided, eyes popping open.

They were going to be working together for months, and Cameron couldn’t handle the tension between them for that long. They needed to work out whatever the hell was between them, and they needed to do it fast.

What better way than knocking Dylan down a peg or two, and giving Ashley a chance to make him regret whatever he’d done to her?

Cameron eventually fell asleep, visions of Ashley pummeling Dylan into the gym floor dancing through his head.