by Bey Deckard
Tim White… a huge fan of my work.
“Thank you,” I said, humbled by the praise; I didn’t know what else to say. Then I smiled in surprise and pulled out a boxset of DVDs in a dark-red plastic case. It was a miniseries about a carnival that travelled through Russia in the twenties. I’d only had a minor part in the later episodes, but Maksim was one of the best characters I’d ever played.
“I didn’t know that this came out in North America. From what I understood… There was no interest.” I looked at Tim.
Tim was watching me with a sheepish grin.
“Yeah, that’s an import. It was hard to find, actually.”
I put it back carefully and returned to the kitchen island, feeling shy again.
“I know the movies have been shitty lately. I just don’t know what to do,” I said. I honestly had no clue how to put my career back on track.
“You can’t possibly need the money that badly,” Tim replied. “Why not go back to what you did before. Accept roles that you find worthy instead of any old shit they throw at you like you’re a two-bit whore with your legs in the air.”
The words brought heat to my face, and I picked up the dishes and put them in the sink to cover my discomfort.
“Sorry.”
I turned around. Tim had risen and stood a few paces away. The air felt strangely dense between us, like it was charged with electricity.
“I sometimes say hurtful things without thinking. I didn’t mean it… Forgive me.” Tim’s voice was so low I barely registered it. I realized three things in that moment:
The first was that, despite the fact that Tim was also a celebrity of sorts, I was the bigger star and being alone with me had to be downright surreal, especially to someone who followed my career with such dedication. Tim’s words came back to me: my favourite actor.
The second thing I realized was that, with the increased proximity, it was immediately obvious to me that Tim was attracted to me and had been trying hard to hide it.
The last, and by far the most startling of the three, was that the attraction wasn’t one-sided. Life decided to throw me for another loop, and I was completely and absurdly confused.
Tim was a few inches shorter, and when she… he looked up at me, his beautiful brown eyes were cautious.
I remembered the drunken, groping kiss of the night before and clenched my jaw.
I’m the arse, I wanted to say, but I stood there as discomfited as eleven-year-old me had been the day Penny Abraham had said she would kiss me if I asked her nicely.
I thought over some of the things Tim had said that morning—about never having company and not socializing. The neat and tidy flat with a single, very private individual who was “complicated”. Tim was alone… But I was just as alone, even surrounded as I was by people day in and day out. Beneath Tim’s cautious restraint, I saw a desperate longing for contact, and I surprised myself by how much I wanted it too.
“Give me your hand,” I said softly, taking the leap.
The look in Tim’s eyes became even more guarded, but he gave me his hand. Slowly, I pulled it towards me until his cool palm rested against my chest.
Tim’s harsh exhale startled me, but I kept hold of his wrist. He wouldn’t look at me for a moment, and I thought I saw the shimmer of tears through his lashes. Gently, I moved his hand over my pec and tentatively his fingers followed the ridge of my collarbone. I thought my heart was going to burst it was going so fast, and I couldn’t recall the last time something had affected me so powerfully that my throat clenched and choked off my breath. Even as hungover as I was, it was pure elation I felt when Tim lifted the other hand to put it softly on my shoulder. Then I dropped my hands to my sides and just let him touch me.
At first his fingers were so gentle they were barely felt, but when he stroked down my chest tracing the shape of the cross tattooed there and continued down, following the thatch of dark hair to my belly and then slowly back up again, his touch became more confident. One hand crept up the side of my neck so he could slide his fingers along my jaw, and the other grazed my left nipple. When he pinched it gently, I let out a soft groan. The borrowed sweatpants did nothing to hide the fact that I was getting wildly excited by Tim’s almost leisurely exploration of my skin, and when he pulled away a moment later, I thought that my growing erection had unnerved him. I frowned in dismay, not knowing what to do.
However, Tim just grabbed the shirt he was wearing between the shoulders and hauled the loose, long-sleeved tee forward over his head to drop it to the floor—I stared mutely at him, amazed by the transformation that had taken place. There was no trace of the woman I had assumed Tim to be. Before me stood a finely muscled young man with an almost mischievous grin. Colourful tattoos covered him from smooth, flat pecs to defined abs and crept down his powerful-looking arms. Dragons, flowers, abstract shapes… the Millennium Falcon. I grinned; my own tattoos seemed paltry in comparison.
Surprisingly, instead of wilting my cock, Tim’s shirtless masculinity added to my excitement. Almost without thinking, I grabbed him by the waist and pulled him tight against me. Tim froze for an instant, but when I started kissing the side of his neck to test the waters, he curled a hand over my backside and squeezed.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, you know that?” he said with a breathless laugh. “I keep thinking that I’m going to jerk awake, and this whole thing has been a stupid dream to drive me crazy.”
I skimmed my lips up along the rim of his ear and gave it a tiny nip, careful not to catch the multitude of rings that pierced it through. I wasn’t acting like myself but I didn’t care. I had someone here in my arms who was interesting and sexy, and that made my heart race and my dick hard. Someone who I wanted to get to know better in mind and—more immediately pressing—in body.
But then I hit a sudden patch of uncertainty when my fingers came into contact with the small ridge of scar on his chest; my confidence tucked its head between its legs when I realized what it was, and I tensed, pulling my hand away.
Tim drew back, a comma of worry between his dark brows.
“What is it?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly a few times, willing away my distress. I was going to fuck everything up with my ignorance. I’d always considered myself an open-minded guy, but maybe I just… wasn’t.
“Stuart, look at me,” said Tim, stroking the side of my face. I opened my eyes, and when I saw the subtle fear in his, I felt the corners of my mouth turn down. “What is it?” he asked again, softer this time.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I confessed.
“Do what? Make out with me?” Tim’s look of concern lessened a touch, and I ventured a tiny smile—but how could I explain I was out of my element without making it sound like I thought there was something wrong with him?
Tim grabbed my hand and placed my fingertips along the scar under his right pec and then touched the mirrored scar on the left.
“This is part of who I am, Stuart. These scars here. As much as I would like them to vanish, they won’t, not ever. And they’re part of the ‘journey’ I’ve taken to get where I am, as corny as that sounds.” He curled his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck and gave a gentle tug. “What’s going through your mind?” He covered my hand with his, and I could feel the quick but steady beat of his heart.
I laughed a little, feeling completely daft. “You’re a lot less shy than you were just a few minutes ago.”
“Well… You got my motor running, buddy. That tends to loosen me up a bit.” Tim leaned into me and ran the tip of his nose along the side of my neck, and I let out a slow breath. “It’s been a good long while for me,” he murmured, “and I never thought in a million years that… well… you…” He pulled back and smiled up at me; I liked the way his cheeks dimpled. “Honest to god, I nearly died back there when you didn’t disappear into a puff of smoke when I touched you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t b
e sorry. I was rather enjoying what was happening.”
“I was enjoying it too,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Oh, it was kind of hard to miss.” The impish gleam had come back into Tim’s eyes.
I daresay that my face got warm, and I laughed again, but he’d sort of hit the crux of the matter. When I didn’t say anything for a second, he frowned.
“What is it? C’mon. Spit it out… or else I’ll write something incredibly cruel about your acting talents in my next review.”
“That’s not funny,” I said, but I couldn’t help my grin. It fell a second later. “It’s just… Did you have the full operation?”
A shadow of something passed over Tim’s eyes, but he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and squeezed it in a way that felt reassuring.
“You want to know if I have a penis?”
“Yeah,” I confessed, a little embarrassed.
“I do!” said Tim, but when he saw the look on my face, he just tugged on my hair again with a playful smirk. “I was, however, unfortunately born without it, and seeing as what science can offer really, and I mean really, doesn’t appeal to me, I’m forced to keep it in the top drawer of the bedside table. Why? Do you want to see it?”
I smiled a little nervously, not knowing what to say, and wrinkles appeared on Tim’s forehead as he stared at me for a beat. I had the strangest impression that he could tell exactly what was going through my mind and that comforted me.
He slowly, carefully wrapped his arms around my shoulders and brought his pelvis flush against mine.
“See? Don’t worry.” He shifted his hips a bit, and it was enough to give my cock the nudge it needed to wake from its momentary slump. Despite the fact that he was smiling, his tone was serious. “You’re safe. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
When I’d invited Tim to touch me, I had assumed that I would be leading whatever happened between us. He was smaller than me, almost dainty in comparison to my post-movie bulk—we had just wrapped up shooting a film where I played a gladiator—and it didn’t occur to me to think otherwise. I’d always been the dominant partner when it came to Claire, back before our sex life had dwindled away to nothing. However, the way Tim stroked down my back and grabbed my ass before drawing me down for a real kiss left me no doubt that he liked being in charge… and I realized that I was actually fine with that. I’d never trusted anyone so quickly before, but the dynamic felt good, and that’s all that really mattered.
I kissed him, savouring the softness of his full bottom lip until he nudged my mouth open to kiss me deeper, his tongue seeking out mine, unhurried and gentle. Soon the combination of his slow hip roll against my hardened length and his thorough and confident command of my mouth had me moaning quietly with desire. One of his hands slid up my chest and found my nipple again, and he began to tug and pinch softly at it, sending almost startling little pulses of pleasure straight to my groin. Normally, I wasn’t a big fan of having my nipples played with. They were oddly sensitive, but the attention that Tim was paying them was nothing short of amazing. I groaned as his mouth left mine to begin a slow descent down the side of my neck. When he wrapped his lips around my other nipple and sucked at it with a little swirling flick of his tongue, I was nearly beside myself. My dick throbbed hard, trapped as it was between us and greedy for more attention. However, Tim only bit down hard enough to make me wince when I started rutting against him.
Yeah, he was definitely the one in control of the situation.
“Come,” he said, pulling away with another coy grin. His face was flushed and his eyes dark. “I want you naked in my bed.”
I didn’t need any more coaxing.
My borrowed sweatpants were soon discarded on the floor as we moved against each other on the rumpled white sheets. The hand he had wrapped around my cock was slippery with nothing more than the constant leak caused by my heightened arousal, and as he stroked me, I couldn’t contain my pathetic, needy noises.
“Fuck, Stuart… I’m going to cum just listening to you,” Tim murmured against my cheek, and I let out another soft, panting moan as his thumb slid over my cockhead. However, when he began to kiss down my chest, I stopped him.
I had to swallow before I could make my mouth form words.
“You said it’s been a while for you. Well, it’s been a bloody long while for me too. I’m not going to be able to last.”
“So?” Tim’s lips were curved in a wicked smile.
I laughed and rubbed at my face, and then I nearly arched off the mattress when Tim’s hot mouth took me in almost to the root in one swift motion. He stayed perfectly still for a moment, as if waiting for me to settle, and then pulled back slowly, his lips tight and tongue swirling against the sensitive nerve cluster before my cock popped completely out of his mouth. I panted a few times to catch my breath, but before I had quite recovered, Tim repeated the quick plunge and slow release.
“Fuck,” I gasped, the back of one hand over my eyes, the other buried in Tim’s hair. True to my word, the next time Tim took me to the root and I felt myself bump the back of his throat, I couldn’t hold back—I came hard, pumping the contents of my sore balls into Tim’s softly sucking mouth. As I grunted quietly with the last throb of my orgasm, I heard Tim moan, and I lifted my head in surprise. Eyes closed tight, he had one hand down the front of his jeans, and his face and neck were flushed, mottled red. Knowing that he had made himself climax with my cock in his mouth, the taste of my cum fresh on his tongue… It just did something to me. I moved further down the bed, curling him into my arms to press fervid kisses to his closed eyelids and soft, parted lips.
“Mm,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes in a daze. He raked his fingers through my hair and then gave me a crooked smile. “I just sucked Stuart Leandro’s cock.”
I let out a bark of a laugh and leaned down to kiss him again.
“I only need about… fifteen minutes to recuperate,” I said, reaching for the button of his jeans. I undid them easily, only fumbling for a second, but paused before pulling them open. “Is this all right?” He shut his eyes again and nodded, but I understood from the tiny wrinkle on his forehead that this was the difficult part for him. Slowly, I slid my hand into his boxers and came into contact with soft, damp hair. My fingers found their way between his lips, and when I slipped them inside him and felt how incredibly wet he was, I let out a shaky breath. “Okay, ten minutes, tops.”
Tim let out an amused huff of breath and then moaned and began to move his hips in time with my caresses. I began to draw my fingers out, intending on paying attention to his clit, but he grabbed my wrist.
“No. Keep going,” he gasped. “Don’t stop what you were doing.”
Surprised, I kept moving my fingers inside him, and mere seconds later he stiffened and let out a full-throated groan. I kissed his neck, murmuring my encouragement as he strained against me, climaxing around my fingers with a rhythmic squeeze that made them all the more slippery with every shuddering pulse. When he finally went limp and breathless, I grinned wide.
“Really?”
Tim cracked open one eye.
“Really, what?” His tone sounded guarded.
“That’s all it takes for you to cum?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “though like I said, it’s been a while. It’s not always so easy.”
My cock was waking up quickly, spurred by the thought of being enveloped in that hot slickness.
“How many times can you?”
“Uh. Well. Depends really…” he said with a smile that had a hint of shyness in it. “Eight? Ten?”
I laughed and pressed myself against his taut, gorgeous, complicated body.
“I’m jealous.”
Tim chuckled and nodded.
“Now you understand why I’m reticent to mess with what I figure is a pretty sweet deal,” he said. However, his expression was self-mocking again.
“I think it
’s brilliant,” I confessed. “I think you’re mad brilliant.” I kissed him hard, and when I pulled back and saw the heat in his eyes, I felt my cock thicken further in response. “And bloody sexy as all hell.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
WHEN I FINALLY PUSHED MY cock deep into him, snug and so very wet, I let out a shameless groan. What could have been strange, given this was my first experience with a man, was simply made more arousing by Tim’s uniqueness, and I had no thoughts of she or he in my head, consumed as I was by hunger for the amazing body that met every thrust with a fervour matching my own. Again, it took little time for me to get to the point of no return, but this time when I came it was with a shared cry of passion that left the both of us panting and laughing, limbs tangled and skin damp on the huge, soft bed.
Claiming exhaustion, Tim curled against my side—smile a bit sleepy and vague—and rested his head on my shoulder. I closed my eyes and trailed my fingers up his ribs, down along his spine, and over his hip. Tim sighed in contentment and I smiled. It occurred to me then that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to keep my mind from thinking she when it should stick to he—after all, I had surprised myself so far.
It’s all rubbish anyway, I thought. What point was there in getting caught up in tiny details that didn’t actually matter? All that mattered to me, right then and there, was that I felt like I was at the very beginning of something incredible.
Five
TIM WAS SPRAWLED OUT ON his stomach on the sheets, and I sat next to him cross-legged. In the post-coital glow, I didn’t feel as weird asking questions, so as I traced the shapes tattooed on his back, I tried to learn a little more about the interesting man who had shared his body with me.
“When did you know you were a guy?”
“I can’t recall a time where I thought I was a girl,” replied Tim after a second. His smile seemed mournful. “But I didn’t do anything about it until I was in my midthirties.”
My hand stilled.
“Wait, how old are you?” With his smooth skin and supple limbs, he looked like he was in his twenties. But, logically, that didn’t make any sense, considering how long Tim White had been writing movie reviews.
