Moonstruck

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “Of course it is.” Leanne gestured at Anthony. “Consider the source.”

  “Hey!”

  “Oh, don’t play innocent with me. I know you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And don’t you forget it. Okay, so Anthony. Just to confirm from our conversation the other day, you’ve got a solid direction for book nine if the deal with Axis Mundi is confirmed?”

  Anthony nodded. “Definitely. As long as we go with the story line Samir came up with, we’re golden.”

  “Good.” Leanne pursed her lips. She turned to Samir. “Just as a heads-up, I’m thinking the editor may want you to tweak the first portal scene just slightly so we aren’t absolutely certain what happens to Justin Strong. I mean, I’d be thrilled knowing the portal actually opened up and tore him into a million pieces, or that he got sucked into it and sent to a universe made of razor blades and lemon juice, but he is a popular character. If I’m understanding the portal, sending him into it without knowing where he went leaves the possibility for him to come back, yes?”

  Samir nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Good, good.” She touched his arm. “Don’t worry, honey. The edits will be intense from both me and the publisher, but it’ll be worth it.”

  “Especially since my old editor is gone.” Anthony rolled his eyes. “That idiot couldn’t find his own ass without an anatomy chart and a flashlight.”

  “You’re telling me,” Leanne muttered. “Anyhow, we need an eighth book, and assuming the planets align properly and the publisher really did fire that shit-bag in their marketing department, we have one.”

  Exhaling, Samir sat back. “This is all so fucking surreal.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Leanne smiled and extended her hand. “But from the way things look right now, welcome aboard.”

  Looking both starstruck and dumbstruck, Samir shook her hand.

  The three of them talked for a little longer about the book, as well as some nerdy tangents like how much they all loved—and hated—some of the casting choices for the Star Trek reboot films.

  After a while, Leanne finished her coffee and sat straighter. “Well, I think that’s all we needed to discuss for now. I’ll head back tomorrow morning, and with any luck, I’ll have some more information for you soon.” She glanced at Anthony. “I assume I don’t have to tell either of you that this is not to be discussed with anyone. Not even your closest friends, family, anyone.”

  They both nodded.

  “Good. Though MoonCon is coming up soon. You’ll need to keep the new book under wraps, but it might be a good idea for Samir to come along and see what goes on at these things.”

  Samir frowned. “Except MoonCon sold out three months ago. I tried to get a ticket, but they were all sold out.”

  “I can take you with me,” Anthony said. “You’ll get a VIP pass. You’re an administrator for the Rawson’s Moonatics forum, so if anyone asks, you’re just there as part of a promotion for the site.”

  Samir’s eyes flicked back and forth from Anthony to Leanne. “An editor in New York is considering putting my book into the Triple Moon series, and I get to go to MoonCon as a VIP with Anthony Rawson?” He whistled. “Down the rabbit hole we go.”

  She grinned. “But that’s not all. I have the raw version of the next few episodes that Anthony needs to approve.” She pulled a DVD from her slim leather briefcase and waved it in Anthony’s face.

  “Would you possibly be interested in watching them with us, hon?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Anthony nodded at Samir. “Those should be the first episodes with Lyle. Leanne, you know your way around. Just set everything up. I’ll get munchies.”

  Chapter 10

  Under normal circumstances, watching raw versions of the next few episodes of Triple Moon would have blissed Samir out, but even as he sat on the couch in the corner near Anthony, the only things that really registered were what Leanne had said about the editor and Axis Mundi and holy shit, he was going from fan to part of the franchise, which was more terrifying and exhilarating than a bungee jump (and nothing on the planet would make him do one of those).

  Lyle Phelan was amazing as Dima Sobakin. How could any actor incorporate that sullen menace and underlying vulnerable humanity in the same moment?

  And sparks were flying with Chip. The scene where Lyle and Chip were facing each other down was so tense and laden that it seemed like the most erotic thing Samir had ever seen on screen. Like they couldn’t decide whether to fuck or kill each other, or both, or even in what order.

  What made it even more intense was knowing this was the scene where Lyle had famously broken character to confess he was in love with Chip. Not that Samir had watched that viral video three thousand times after it was leaked.

  He glanced at Anthony, then Leanne, then back at the TV. Even with Chip Schwartz and Lyle Phelan sizzling on the screen, Samir couldn’t concentrate. Everything Leanne had told him was messing with his head. He should’ve danced or run or screamed or all of those, really. He wanted to. He didn’t want to look like a total freak in front of his future agent (ohmygod), but it took everything he had. He just wished Anthony would keep that copy of the DVD and they could watch it together again, maybe in bed, after they’d fucked away this nervous tension.

  Anthony wasn’t being exactly helpful. In the interrogation scene that they both had written slash about, the tension between Chip and Lyle was so high it made Samir hard. Seriously hard, despite his nerves. Which didn’t get any better when Anthony rubbed Samir’s foot under the coffee table with his own. Samir glanced at him, and noticed Anthony’s jeans also sat more snugly than they had before. He was undoubtedly thinking the same. Wanting the same.

  When the last episode was over, Leanne stood. “What do you think?”

  “I’ll look at it again tomorrow,” Anthony said. “Just to be sure they aren’t fucking with the character arcs.”

  Leanne nodded. “Also give Chas my greetings. I didn’t see her on the way in.”

  “It’s her day off. But I’ll hook you ladies up.” Anthony stood and rolled his shoulders. “You leaving early tomorrow?”

  “Relatively. I’ll be on the case and should have news for you by Monday evening. We’re pushing hard for this and so far people are keen, so it should all wrap up quickly.”

  “Great. I’ll show you to your room. Same place as usual. Are you staying for breakfast?”

  “As long as you’re not cooking, love.” She extended a hand to Samir. “Best thing in this situation? Don’t wait for any outcome, just put your head down and write more. Authors waiting for contracts go insane. Also, I want another book from you.”

  Samir swallowed, numbly shaking her hand. “I’ll try. Not right now, but I’ll really try, I promise.”

  “I know, hon.” She and Anthony left and walked down the hall, and Samir stood there. He was so wide awake there was no way he’d sleep now. But at least he got to spend the night in Anthony’s bed again, and he could think of a few activities in there to distract both of them. Not sleeping had never seemed so attractive.

  He headed upstairs.

  By the time Anthony came up, Samir was naked under the covers.

  Anthony toed the door shut behind him, never once looking away from him. “Didn’t think you’d be ready to go to sleep anytime soon.”

  “Who said anything about sleeping?”

  Anthony just grinned and pulled off his shirt.

  Samir’s heart beat wildly as he watched Anthony undress. The man didn’t make a big production out of it. No striptease or anything. Still, it seemed to take forever, as if the world had suddenly gone into slow motion, and entire glaciers crossed continents in the time it took Anthony’s shirt to tumble to the floor. Stars were born and died out before Anthony finally slid into bed beside Samir.

  But now he was here, and there was nothing glacial about this. Anthony’s warm body tangled up with Samir’s, and their kiss left no room for doubt about where
this was going tonight. Funny how the source of all this nervous energy was also its cure—Anthony was the core of this live-wire anxiety, but his touch calmed Samir down. And aroused him. And relaxed him. And excited him so much he couldn’t breathe.

  He started to push Anthony onto his back, but for the first time since they’d started fooling around, met resistance.

  Anthony broke the kiss. “Didn’t you say something to Leanne earlier this evening about being under me?”

  Samir tried to laugh, but all that came out was a tiny gasp.

  Anthony ran a hand down Samir’s abs. “I think I like the idea of you under me.” He trailed his fingers alongside—but not touching—Samir’s dick. “On your hands and knees.”

  Oh.

  Dear.

  God.

  Samir pressed his hips against Anthony’s hand, trying to redirect it to his erection, but Anthony kept his fingers just far enough away to drive him crazy.

  “I’m not hearing a no,” Anthony said with equal parts playfulness and caution. “Do you want me to fuck you, Samir?”

  “I don’t know if I can hold myself up.” It sounded stupid, but now that he’d said it, it was pretty accurate.

  “You don’t have to.” Anthony leaned forward and kissed Samir’s throat. The second his lips made contact, his fingertips ran along the underside of Samir’s cock. Samir arched against him, tilting his head back and pressing himself into Anthony’s hand.

  “Yes or no?” Anthony murmured. “Are you—”

  “Condoms. Now.”

  Anthony released a warm huff of laughter across Samir’s neck, and his fingers closed around Samir’s dick. As he stroked slowly, he whispered, “You sound awfully eager tonight.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not.”

  “Of course I am.” Anthony bit Samir’s earlobe just hard enough to make him gasp. “Doesn’t mean I won’t draw it out.”

  Samir groaned. “You fucking tease.”

  “You’ve known me long enough, this shouldn’t surprise you.”

  Oh, wasn’t that the truth?

  “Did you ever imagine—” Anthony kissed his way down toward Samir’s shoulder “—you’d be in bed with Ulfhedinn?”

  Samir shivered as he draped an arm over Anthony. “Would you think less of me if I said I fantasized about it?” And fantasized about Anthony Rawson?

  “No. No, I wouldn’t.” He lifted his head and kissed Samir on the mouth. “I’ve certainly done my share of fantasizing about SirMarrok.”

  “I hope he ...” Samir gasped. When the hell had Anthony put him on his back? “I hope he wasn’t a disappointment.”

  “Oh, no.” Anthony pressed his hard cock against Samir’s hip. “Not even a little.”

  “What ... were you expecting?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be so cute. Or gorgeous. I’d been prepared to be friends with whoever SirMarrok turned out to be, but I was hoping we’d be compatible like this, considering your downright filthy mind.”

  “That makes me glad I sent those stories.”

  “Me too.” Anthony grinned—again, the word wolfish came to mind. “Because trust me, I’m happy to use those as inspiration and put you through your paces.”

  Oh. God.

  Anthony grabbed a condom and some lube, then gestured for him to turn around. Samir couldn’t resist—he really, really wanted this, and he definitely wanted to know what Anthony would feel like. He got on his hands and knees and opened his legs. It always felt a bit weird, exposing himself like that, though with Anthony it was anticipation and nothing else. No reluctance.

  The first time with some guys, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t be selfish assholes that rammed him for all they were worth and didn’t give a shit whether he got his fair share. With Anthony, though, he was sure. He didn’t seem like a guy who’d use somebody like a hole. Maybe it was the age difference, or maybe Anthony was just that type of mellow, but he didn’t give off that vibe at all.

  Anthony moved between Samir’s legs and placed his cock against his cheeks, rubbing along there a few times, which would have looked fucking amazing if Samir had been in any position to enjoy the view. He’d really love to see them in a mirror—just the contrast of their body types was hot, definitely the age difference, but also their coloring. They couldn’t have been more different, but the same characters lived in both their brains, and how strange was it that the synapses and chemistry and molecules inside their heads communicated on a level that seemed effortless and instinctive.

  Behind him, the lube bottle closed. One of Anthony’s hands was on Samir’s ass. Thumb. Pushing in. Samir jolted when the digit breached him and gasped when Anthony nailed his prostate immediately. Almost too much and too intense, and still it stoked that fierce hunger for more. Samir rocked into Anthony’s hand.

  “That’s fucking hot.” Anthony’s voice was nothing more than a husky growl. Another finger pressed in, the thumb on the other hand, and Anthony rubbed those against each other, making Samir shudder with pleasure. Anthony was strong, and that included his hands and wrists, and there was something about their motions that drove Samir crazy. Stretching him, but also clearly already fucking, in a way. Definitely fucking with his head.

  “Can you just ...”

  “Can or would?”

  “Don’t do auxiliary verbs with me. You’re ... not my beta.”

  Anthony laughed. “Just making sure you can take all of it because I’m going to fuck you mercilessly.”

  That was the kind of word that really didn’t belong in bed, and yet it made Samir’s head spin, because he knew, knew from everything, from Anthony’s books to his persona online to every meeting so far, that Anthony didn’t have one merciless bone in his body.

  Anthony slowly withdrew one thumb. Then the other. Samir squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall forward, his pulse racing with anticipation. Foil tore behind him. The lube bottle clicked again. Samir kneaded the sheets, looking for some kind of purchase, something to hold on to.

  Then Anthony slid a hand over his hip, and holding on to anything wasn’t going to do Samir any good. He barely managed to remember to breathe, to keep himself relaxed, and when Anthony pressed against him, even that ability went out the window.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this,” Anthony whispered, sounding just a little out of breath, “since the minute I met you.”

  Samir’s brain told his mouth to say, “That makes two of us,” but Anthony pushed deeper, and the only sound Samir could make was a low groan.

  “You all right?” Anthony was definitely out of breath. His hand ran up and down Samir’s side, and he started to pull out. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  Samir shook his head. “Doesn’t hurt. It’s ... good.”

  “Just good?” Some of Anthony’s earlier playfulness had returned, but a note of caution remained. As he pushed in again, still moving slowly, he whispered, “Want more?”

  “Of course I, fuck ...” Samir leaned back against him. “Fuck me.”

  “I am.” Anthony steadied him, keeping Samir from pushing back. “And you’ll take whatever I decide to give you.”

  Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it?

  “Damn it, Anthony, just—”

  “I do like hearing you say my name in bed.” All playfulness now. No caution. He started to withdraw again, his strokes agonizingly slow. “Pity we have company in the house.” Anthony leaned down, pausing to kiss the back of Samir’s shoulder. “Bet I could make you do more than say it.”

  Samir shivered, trying to rock as Anthony slowly slid into him again.

  Anthony kissed his shoulder, his voice vibrating against Samir’s skin as he murmured, “Bet I could make you—”

  Samir shoved himself back, and they both froze. Neither of them even breathed. Anthony was all the way inside him now, buried to the hilt, and while it didn’t hurt, it was intense. Overwhelming. Amazing.

  Anthony shuddered. He wrapped an arm around Samir, and Samir could
n’t tell whether he was being restrained or being held. Anthony released a warm, ragged breath against Samir’s shoulder, and his hips began to move again, not as slowly as before but definitely in no hurry.

  “God.” Anthony kissed the base of Samir’s neck. “You feel amazing.”

  “So do you.” Samir pressed the heels of his hands into the mattress and rocked back again, matching Anthony’s speed but also trying to encourage him to move faster. Faster. God, please, faster.

  Anthony’s arm loosened, and then he sat up. One hand on Samir’s hip. Then the other. He held tight, and Samir gritted his teeth—he didn’t want to go slow, or be teased, he wanted to be fucked. Hard.

  And although Anthony held Samir’s hips absolutely still, there was nothing slow or teasing about this now. Each stroke was faster and deeper than the last until he was thrusting hard enough to nearly knock Samir’s arms out from under him.

  Samir lifted one hand and braced against the headboard. He still couldn’t move his hips—fuck, Anthony had a strong grip—but it didn’t matter because Anthony was doing just fine, hitting that sweet spot and sending Samir into the stratosphere. And now that Samir was bracing himself, it was even better—he was perfectly still, and Anthony was slamming into him, and even though he knew it was impossible, he wanted this—everything about this—to last all fucking night. Dizzy with pleasure as he was, there was really nothing he could do, or even wanted to do, because this was perfect. Giving up, surrendering, was the only option, less to Anthony than to his own body, completely going under in the waves of pleasure and sheer lust.

  Anthony’s thrusts became more erratic. Samir was close himself. When Anthony loosened his grip and took hold of Samir’s cock, the first touch was almost too intense and too much, and Samir was about to warn him off, but then he was suddenly coming, after only a stroke or two, and the next thing Samir knew, they were coming. Together, Anthony deep inside him, and Samir all over the sheets. They both panted, bodies locked rigid as orgasm hit them, then slowly becoming softer and more pliable again, and then Anthony was kissing him deeply, face glowing, eyes alight. Bliss. Samir still broke away because he needed to breathe, but when Anthony pulled out and their racing hearts slowed somewhat, he reached for Anthony’s neck and drew him into another kiss, this time longer and with less gasping for air.