Page 65 of Best Supporting Actor

Oh fuck.“Tag…”

“I want to make you feel good,” Tag murmured, leaning down and brushing his lips over Jay’s mouth again. “Do you trust me?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? Jay’s heart began an anxious thump in counterpoint to his racing desire.Didhe trust Tag?

With some surprise, Jay realised that, yes, he did—at least, he trusted him in rehearsal. He trusted Tag’s performance, his talent. Trusted him as a generous and creative performance partner who wanted their play to succeed as much as Jay did.

But did he trust him with this, too? Last time he got involved with a co-star…

No,fuckthat! Tag wasn’t Sebastian Talbot. He couldn’t be more different from Seb.

Smothering his misgivings, Jay plastered on a smile that was neither wholly genuine nor wholly fake, his heart hammering now with nervy excitement. “Okay, but this time, it’s your turn.”

Tag’s eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

Reaching forward, Jay tugged on the drawstring of Tag’s joggers with shaking fingers. The soft fabric was doing a nice job of outlining his sizeable erection. “Come here and find out,” he suggested hoarsely.

That sounded like a line Skye Jäger might have used. It probably was; he had a tendency to fall back on learned lines with his hook-ups. It was all part of the performance, the familiar, comfortable mask. It was part of how he took control, how he managed his nerves.

Maybe that was why it felt so wrong now. Sooff. Because he didn’twantto wear a mask with Tag, but he wasn’t sure how to do this any other way.

“Hey,” Tag said softly, drawing Jay’s attention back to the moment, to him. His expression was curious, and Jay wondered how transparent he was. “Did I lose you there for a sec?”

“Sorry,” Jay muttered, mortified.Focus, for God’s sake.

“It’s okay,” Tag said gently. “And for what it’s worth, the way I see it, sex isn’t about taking turns or returning favours.” He grinned. “I’m not keeping score.” Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to Jay’s.

It was a deep, slow kiss that knocked all thought out of Jay’s head for several long, blissful moments and brought his distracted cock back to pulsing, achingly hard life.

When Tag pulled back, his smile was satisfied. He levered himself up and clambered off the couch, almost tripping over the discarded wine bottle. Laughing, he caught his balance. He made quite a sight with his gorgeous bare torso, lewdly bulging joggers, and with his hair all sexily ruffled. Utterly fuckable. Helplessly, Jay’s hand went to his own aching prick, still trapped in his jeans, and then, embarrassed, he pulled it away.

Tag’s smile only deepened. He held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to bed before we break this fucking sofa.”

Laughing, Jay took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and towed to the bed. When they got there, Tag gripped the waistband of his joggers and, in one flamboyant move, shoved them down and kicked them off, along with his briefs. And then he simply stood there in all his naked, uninhibited glory, arms outstretched and smiling his phenomenal smile. “Ta-da!”

Playing the audience for laughs, and still sexy as hell.

Jay was suddenly certain he’d never wanted anyone, or anything, in his life more than he wanted Tag in that moment. The raw force of his desire left him breathless.

Maybe Tag saw that—Jay knew, now, how intuitive he was—because his amused grin gentled into something more serious, and he stepped forward, reaching for Jay. Kissing him sweetly on the mouth as he began to undress him, his nimble fingers working Jay’s jeans open, then closing around his painfully hard prick, startling a needy sound from Jay’s throat. Christ, had he ever been this turned on before?

“Mmm,” Tag murmured, nuzzling Jay’s neck, “you’re so hard. Is that all for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” Jay gasped thrusting with embarrassing eagerness into Tag’s hand. “All for you.”

Tag gave a little breathless sound of pleasure, which only made Jay’s cock stiffer still. “Let’s get these off,” Tag said, tugging at Jay’s jeans. “I want to see you.”

After a few moments of ungainly struggle—fuck, why was he even wearing socks?—Jay had kicked away his tangled clothes. Tag’s appreciative gaze felt warm as it roved across his body, like sunlight against his skin, something to bask in, something to relish.

A roguish smile tilted the corner of Tag’s mouth. “Yeah,” he said, prowling closer, “look at you. Fucking breathtaking.”

Tag’s hand landed warm on Jay’s hip, sliding up over his ribs to his back, then running down his spine and stroking his backside, little golden shocks rippling across Jay’s skin in the wake of his touch. Then Tag leaned in, pressing against Jay, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, prick to eager prick.

Sliding his arms around Tag, navigating the beautiful contours of his body, Jay couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward with embarrassing neediness as their lips met again.

“Jesus,” Tag gasped after a while, pulling back and grinning, “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard tonight.” He tumbled them both onto the bed, still kissing, and they began rutting together in a happy frenzy, led only by what felt good, what felt right. It felt fucking incredible to just let go like that, to simply act on instinct. Jay had rarely—make that never—felt so abandoned, so liberated.

He began to kiss his way down Tag’s gorgeous body—all ivory skin and black hair, neatly groomed around his straining prick and tight balls. His cock was a nice size, in proportion with his trim, muscular body.