Secret Things

by Andrews, Nazarea

  Dimitri: Tonight. I want you to come on my tongue and my fingers, untouched.

  I can almost hear him whispering that in my ear, all hot promises and dirty filth and I want it. I look up at him, and the challenge in his eyes.

  And against all logic and sense, I nod.

  Chapter 12

  Posted on EndersHollow Message Boards

  @DetAshleyJ: Dimitri says that being brave is half courage to keep doing things that scare you and half being too damn stubborn to quit. #EndersConDet

  @AngieHallowsGirl: I saw Camden and Cari in the merch room you guys there was never a couple cuter than those two fucking lovebirds #EndersConDet #bless

  @FandomNeverEnds: Did you see Dimitri and Camden in autographs? They kept staring at each other. Dimitri was flirting with fans and Cam kept staring. #what?? #EndersConDet

  @Victri4Ever: Dimitri has been discouraging Camden's interest for months. It's fucking ridiculous that you are still talking about it. He's happy with Vic. #letitgo #EndersConDet

  @Victri4Ever: Quit shoving your damn ships at him. Fiction is one thing, but this is real people, and whatever Cam might want, Victri are happy together. #fuckingstop #EndersConDET

  @DetAshleyJ: chill the fuck out, Victri4Ever. No one thinks anything has happened to your precious Victri. Fuck, girl. #EndersConDet

  ---

  "You sure you know what you're doing?" Cari asks, as I sit next to her. Cam is being steered away by his handler, to a meet-and-greet or some other shit. We're almost through the day and I'm exhausted enough that I don't give a fuck where he's going. All I care about is that they bring him back, quickly.

  I still can't shake the heat in his eyes when he nodded.

  And I know. I know we need to talk. We need to work out the shit that is still between us, and I need to explain that Vic is gone.

  He moved out. By the time I get back home, he'll be gone completely. Jace is boxing up my shit and driving it up from the L.A. apartment.

  That quick. That easy. A ten-year relationship, the one I built my life around, would be over.

  I would be sad, if I didn't know that this was for the best.

  Are you with her?

  I had shaken my head. No. Cari is just a friend. A very good friend. But you aren't in love with me anymore, and I love someone else.

  He hadn't denied it. I think we both wanted him to, but he hadn't.

  "How'd we get here?" he asked, as we sat next to each other. It was over, and we both knew it. We'd figured everything out, except for this.

  "I think we just grew up. Not a bad thing, Vic. You and I just...we grew up and grew apart. It happens."

  "I didn't want it to," he said, and his voice was so damn earnest and sincere it hurt to hear. I smiled at him, a little sad.

  "I know."

  And the thing was. It would have happened. Even if I wasn't in love with Camden, it would have happened. We were headed here for a long time. Maybe since that first afternoon together in high school.

  But right now? I don't want to think about my sad-as-fuck break up.

  Right now, I want to focus on the future.

  By the time the day is over and the handlers drop us off at the elevators with the admonition to stay out of trouble and call if we need anything--I'm pretty sure that's our indirect cue to stay in our damn rooms and away from fangirls--I'm exhausted and horny and a little drunk.

  Camden took my cue and started sexting during the middle of his panel, blowing up my phone with demand after demand, until it's all I can do to sit on stage and answer the questions and not squirm in place with anticipation.

  So when she does drop me off, there's no hesitation or thought.

  I knock hard on Camden's door.

  He pulls it open, jerks me inside, and slams it shut.

  I'm expecting furious kisses and hard touches, I'm expecting him to shove into my space and push me around.

  I'm expecting a storm of sensation.

  But as the sound of the door slamming echoes around us, and drowns out the noise of the cast, I'm left almost in limbo. There is silence and stillness here, and he's moving behind me, but he isn't touching me.

  "You hurt me," he murmurs, close enough that I can feel his breath brushing against my skin.

  "I know," I whisper. Because I do. And I hate myself for it.

  "Where is Vic?" he asks.

  I shiver as his lips brush wet open kisses over the nape of my neck.

  "Gone," I whisper.

  He stills, his lips still pressed against me, and then his teeth dig in, and he groans a sound that mixes with mine, because Jesus fuck. I thrust my hips up and against nothing, and whine at the emptiness as he jerks me by my belt back against him. I almost groan and he whispers in my ear. "Don't let it happen again, Dimitri. Don't hurt me like that again,"

  I twist and kiss him. Finally. Deeply. Almost frantic, desperate for him to feel me, to taste my apology, to understand that no. No. Never again. There's only us and this, and I am so fucking sorry.

  I'm whispering it in between our kisses, pressing it with my lips and tongue to his skin, trying to write my apology into him, and he hums soft and sweet against me. "Shh, Dee. It's okay. I know. I know."

  I think he does.

  I think he gets me enough that he does understand just how sorry I am.

  But it doesn't make it any easier to have hurt him.

  "Dimitri?" he asks, softly.

  "Yeah?"

  "I know you want to...." he trails off and I pull back to find him flushed and staring at the ground, the tips of his ears a bright red.

  Camden is fucking adorable.

  "I want to lick you open and tongue fuck you until you come riding two fingers?" I ask, my voice light, and he flushes almost violently.

  "Yeah," he says, softly. "That."

  "What of it? You should take more clothes off," I murmur, nosing at the collar of his shirt as I bite down lightly on his pec.

  "I wanna fuck you," he blurts out and I freeze.

  Because Jesus, yes. "Yes," I say simply. "Yes, I think I'd like that."

  Camden gives me a nervous, little smile, and bites his lip and I kiss him, yanking him down the short distance to my lips and walking us backwards until I hit the edge of the bed, and then I fall and bring him with me.

  Fucking hell, I've missed this. His huff of laughter and the way his weight is too heavy and smothering and perfect. I missed how he breathes in my scent before he rolls his hips, like he has all fucking night, and then I realize--we do. We're here and we don't need to be anywhere else.

  "You're wearing a lot of clothes," I whisper against his lips and he shrugs, and kisses me again. Deep and hungry, the first thrum of want slipping from him to me and I groan into it. Tug his hair a little and he rolls his hips, his dick rubbing against mine in the most delightful way.

  "Babe," he gasps. "Pants. Off."

  I laugh and he scowls at me before he scrambles up and strips down to his boxers before wrestling with my shoes as I shove my jeans down, and yank off my shirt.

  I've seen him naked before. We had a month of blow jobs and lazy kisses, wet hand jobs and long showers. Seeing him naked isn't new. It isn't a revelation.

  But it feels different, as he stands there. Staring at me with nervous intent, and I am free. I am his. There is nothing hanging over us.

  We're in a hotel with a thousand fangirls and half our coworkers and all of them are reasons why this shouldn't happen.

  But here, in the darkness of his room, there is only us. Only his weight bearing me down into the bed and his hands brushing along my skin, setting my nerves on fire and stringing want in my belly.

  There’s only his lips, moving down my chest and my gasps as he bites down on my nipple. His dark chuckle and my whine when he sinks lower.

  He takes his time, sucking me slow and easy as he flicks open the bottle of lube.

  I shiver when he trails two wet fingers down my cock and over my balls, rubbing over me before he circle
s my rim with a light touch. I whimper and his mouth, still working my cock, goes still, as he slides his fingers into me. Deep.

  I groan as he fucks me, working me open while he sucks my cock. It's too much and I don't know if I want to fuck up into his fucking sinful mouth or down on those perfect fingers. A third slides in and I gasp, the stretch just the right side of painful and that decides me. I tug on his hair, pulling him off my dick and to my panting lips as I rock down on his fingers, searching for that perfect spot, the brush I know will send me over the edge. He kisses me and pulls away, laughing when I curse.

  “Don't fucking tease,” I snarl and he laughs again. Dips to kiss me, sucking a mark into the top of my shoulder and that's when he pushes into me.

  This slow.

  Relentless.

  Push.

  I scramble to clutch him as he slides deep, and catch the shocked noise he makes as he bottoms out. The weight of him on me. The tight full feeling of him inside me.

  “I love you,” I whisper and I know. I fucking know it makes me a fucking cliché and I don't care.

  I've been choking on those words for too long and the feel of this is too much. Too perfect.

  He groans and kisses me and I rock my hips up, wordlessly begging for more, for him to fuck me and he whispers my name like a prayer as he does, his hips rolling in these maddeningly slow waves, cresting deep and retreating like the tide and it's so fucking perfect and, Camden, that I could come like this, just this.

  I groan once, this filthy version of his name and his hips stutter. And it's like a dam breaking, all finesse and control ripped away as he yanks my leg up, leans down to kiss me and fucks me hard, his hips snapping and driving as he bites at my lip and I dig my nails into his shoulders as his hand finds my cock.

  Two quick strokes and I scream silently, pressing it to his shoulder as I shudder and come across my belly and his in hot wet streaks. Camden makes this noise I'll hear until the day I die, somewhere between a sob and a moan, his whole body shaking above me as he comes.

  He collapses next to me, and I curl against him as he draws me closer, tangling our legs together, ignoring the mess of sweat and come that sticks us together.

  For a long time, there is only the sound of his breathing and the fan in the corner.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, eventually. Quiet and earnest. He kind of stiffens in my arms, but he doesn’t respond, and I can’t expect him to.

  What is there to say?

  I fucked up. Us fucking doesn’t change that I messed up and he was hurt.

  “I want to be with you, Dimitri. It drives me crazy that I had to share you with Victor, even for a week.”

  “He—we didn’t.”

  Some of the tension drains out of him, and I peer up at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, his face almost painfully beautiful and remote.

  “Camden,” I breathe.

  “I just. I can’t be out, not yet. But I can’t handle you with him.”

  I press a kiss to his shoulder and try to not let it sting. “I know, babe. I know.”

  He tugs me closer, and I let him.

  Because everything that says this won’t work? Is on the other side of the hotel door, and right now, I want to stay in his bed.

  Chapter 13.

  Posted by SILENCE OF SCREAMS on EndersHollow.

  Some things don’t last. But they leave us with bittersweet beauty and the best damn memories we can ask for.

  I have loved being your friend and partner. As we both move forward, I’m glad we can keep the friendship. You’re still the best songbird I know, Dee.

  ---

  We hear the rumors before we get to set. The con heard them, if I’m honest. It was soft whispers in the hotel halls, murmurs in the autograph lines. Sidelong looks at the photo ops, and Jeb’s sharp stare when questions verged on inappropriate.

  But no one came out and asked.

  The fans are demanding, but they do respect some boundaries. There’s an unspoken line, that most are hesitant to cross—they take what we share, and they analyze the fuck out of it. A hug between me and Cari, a too long look between Cari and Dimitri, a weekend spent together without her, anything at all to do with Victor.

  They nitpick us apart and I don’t mind, because they don’t get to see what matters. They see the surface, and what matters is the depth of the relationships.

  So they whisper. They talk. But no one asks.

  And Monday, we wake up to rumors and a statement on Silence of Screams EndersHollow and their page.

  “Looks like we’re done with privacy,” he says and I glance at him. Dimitri isn’t looking at me, he’s staring at his phone.

  “Jesus. We have to call KP,” he mutters.

  “Why?”

  “And I need to call Alyssa. Give me your phone.” I hold it out without really bothering to question it and he grabs it, texting quickly before he tosses it back and hops up. “Get dressed, babe, we’re gonna be late.”

  If the fans believe in privacy, and only going as far as we’re willing to share—the cast and crew of Fractal Ends does not.

  “You know they’re going to have questions,” Cari murmurs, sipping her coffee. Jeb makes a low noise of assent and I frown. “It’s not their business.”

  “Yes, it is,” Dimitri says, distracted. He’s stolen my phone again, and is texting rapidly. “My image is tied to Silence and to the show. So yeah, they have a vested interest in what the hell I’m doing or who I’m dating.

  I pause for a second, processing that. “How much trouble are we in?”

  Dimitri looks up, finally, and sees my frown. He leans over and kisses my cheek quickly. “We aren’t. I’m meeting with Alyssa and KP this evening, and it’ll be fine.”

  He thinks this is just him. But something I learned from him, and from Cari. Being together means it’s never just you. I’m with him, even in the hard times. Especially then.

  “I’m coming with you,” I say and he looks up from the phone, frowning slightly.

  Whatever he sees in my gaze shuts him up before he can argue, and he nods quickly.

  “We’re meeting them after filming in my trailer,” he says, instead.

  My hand finds his across the seat as we pull onto set. I can see reporters lining the parking lot, and I know that inside, there will be a thousand things pulling us apart. So I cling to this. To us. For just a few seconds longer.

  Filming shouldn’t be bliss.

  It’s the kind of episode I hate. Farley is up to shit, whispering nonsense to Annie and we’re fighting, which means Josef is in a shit mood. Today we’re filming a fight and then Josef gets drunk and wanders off to the fucking Seelie Court. Because dealing with those bastards sober is a bad idea, we’ll give it a go drunk off our ass and without Annie.

  I hate these episodes, because I hate fighting with Cari. After seven years, we’re damn good at wearing our characters, and it’s easy to let it bleed sometimes.

  It feels too real and I hate it, hate that when we go home, she’ll be moody and I’ll be a dick and we’ll snap at each other for days before she finally snarls and makes us both get our heads out of our asses.

  Farley smirking from the sidelines and egging us both on doesn’t help.

  But today it’s bliss. Because it’s me and the two people I love most, it’s the friends we’ve made and people we trust, and it’s quiet. There are no buzzing phones or demanding reporters, or anything but the familiar sound of the set and show.

  So it’s not what most people would want. It’s work and it’s an episode I hate.

  But it’s still bliss and I take it, ride it out as the noise outside increases and Jeb grows ever more worried.

  When we break for lunch, Cari follows me to my trailer. “Did you know he was going to publicize the breakup?”

  “He didn’t,” I point out. “That was Victor.”

  She studies me. “You trust he’s not lying to you.”

  I hold her gaze and she stares, assessing. And fi
nally, she nods. “Just be careful.”

  I flash a cocky smile and she rolls her eyes, but retreats in a wash of chaotic noise that roars into my trailer before it’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

  We film until almost ten PM and when Evans finally calls it for the day, Dimitri is done filming and has been for an hour or so. This last scene was just my dumb ass with James fumbling around the Seelie kingdom in search of...god, I don't even know. The details are blurring. Something to put a leash on Farley before he brought the fairy world and the real world tumbling down.

  God, I really don't know how to explain my job to a younger me.

  "You ready?" he murmurs, hip checking me as I wave wearily to James and Riddick Croft, this week’s director and head offset.

  "Where is Cari?"

  "Jeb took her to a hotel for the night. The reporters are camped out at both our places."

  I scowl. "Why the fuck are they at my house?"

  "Because rumors are already linking Cari to the breakup and because they know we're close. They're gambling I might go there." He keeps pace with me as I stalk through the dark lot and swear under my breath, and then, "Jeb went by to feed the dogs. They're fine."

  I nod and in a splash of light, I see the uncertainty written bright on his face.

  And it jerks me to a stop.

  "Dimitri, you know I'm pissed, but not at you. Right?"

  He looks away and my stomach drops. "Sweetheart," I whisper.

  "You have a right to be pissed, Camden. This is fucking with your life."

  "You're my life," I murmur. We're in some shadows, so I tug him deeper, where we won’t be seen and tug him into my arms. "You're my life, Dimitri. This shit is just a speed bump."

  He shivers in my embrace, and I know he was more worried than he wants to let on. "C'mon," I say softly.

  He doesn't protest, let's me lead him out of the shadows and the rest of the way to my trailer.

  Alyssa Grant and KP Simmon are sitting there, discussing a pair of shoes KP is wearing, of all fucking things. They both break off when we enter, and a big smile forms on KP's lips.