Page 22

Xander

As much as I didn't want to leave Tristan's house, I knew that if I didn't we would spend the rest of the day actively fucking and getting each other off, and I hadn't been lying when I had told him that I was sore.

Not enough that I wouldn't have gone for another round - or seven - but I didn't want to walk into our next shoot already sore, especially after the scenario that Dorian had written for us last time.

I didn't know what I was walking into, so as much as it killed me, I went back home and spent the rest of the day picking up and cleaning, and steadfastly not thinking about Tristan.

When I walked into the Studio Black building the next day, though, I could already feel anticipation building inside of me for the shoot ahead of us.

I might not know what Dorian was going to ask us to do, but every time we were together, Tristan made me feel safe and sexy and wanted, so I had no doubt that this time was going to be exactly the same.

I nodded at Dorian and Emmett when I made my way through the set - another college dorm looking set, this time - and smiled when Dorian flashed me a quick smile before returning his attention to his husband.

Emmett had his hand wrapped around the back of Dorian's neck, and the way that they looked at each other was so full of love and mischief that it almost made me ache.

They were so fucking cute.

And a tiny, traitorous voice in the back of my mind whispered, wondering if Tristan and I were going to look at each other like that five, ten, fifteen years down the road.

Assuming that we made it that far.

I had a good feeling.

That good feeling carried me into my dressing room and let me float through hair and makeup, and then the quick process of getting myself prepped for the scene.

The script for the day was sitting on the vanity in front of me by the time I was finished, and I tucked my bare feet underneath me - my "costume" for the day was a pair of loose sweats and nothing else - before picking it up to look at the scenario that Tristan and I were going to be portraying today.

Before I could read more than a few lines - and snort at the blatant cheesiness of them - there was a sharp rap on my dressing room door, drawing my attention.

The door opened before I could call for the intruder to come in, though, and I was surprised to see Brandon slip into my dressing room, dressed in a graphic t-shirt and a baggy pair of jeans that made him look even smaller than he already was.

The ensemble was topped off with boots that I was fairly certain were steel-toed and looked way too fucking big for him, if not for the ease that he walked in them with.

His dark hair was mussed, and his tongue toyed with his lip piercing as he looked at me, offering a quick smile.

"Hey," I said, a little confused.

I set down the script and turned my full attention to Brandon, cocking my head to the side.

"What's up? You're not scheduled for this shoot?"

I couldn't help the way my voice tipped up at the end of the sentence in confusion, and Brandon chuckled, approaching and leaning against the vanity of my dressing room.

"No, I'm not here to fuck you, baby star, don't you worry about that," he teased.

"Tristan's the only one who gets that honor."

I couldn't help the way that my shoulders relaxed a little, and then my eyes widened at the amusement that flickered over his face.

"Not that...I mean.

I'm sure...you're very attractive, Bran, and..."

He snickered, waving off my excuses with one hand.

"God, you really are so fucking cute.

I understand why he's smitten with you."

My stomach erupted into butterflies, and I desperately tried to keep my voice casual as I asked, "Smitten?"

Brandon's dark eyes flashed, and his tongue came out to toy with his piercing again as he looked at me.

The flash of a piercing through the center of his tongue made my cock jerk unwittingly, and after a moment, he shook his head, chuckling softly.

"Well, I was going to be asking how your date went ahead of your shoot today, but that look on your face tells me everything that I need to know." His expression softened a little, and the smile that curved on his lips was genuine.

"I'm happy for the two of you.

I was worried that Tristan's emotionally constipated ass would never find someone he wanted to let in."

"Funny, because he said that you're the emotionally constipated one," I shot back, relaxing into my chair as my body realizing that the terrifying twink wasn't here to intimidate me.

Not that he would be able to, but...oh, hell.

Brandon was terrifying, and I was almost certain that he could put those shit-kicking boots of his on any man's throat and make him beg for mercy, regardless of his size.

Brandon tossed back his head and laughed, looking back at me with a glint in his eyes.

"I'm sure he did," he said easily.

"A partner isn't in the cards for some of us, though.

I'm really happy for you and Tris, Xander."

With that mildly cryptic - and sweet - statement, he winked at me one more time before he turned on his heel and slipped out of my dressing room as easily as he had come into it.

I blinked for a moment, looking after him, and then shook my head.

Maybe Tristan would be able to pick apart that interaction.

Then I turned my attention back to the script that I had in hand, and I couldn't stop myself from snorting aloud as I finished reading.

Oh, God, this was going to be ridiculous.