Page 22 of Need to Know

“Christ, you make me sound like a virgin! I’m not; I just haven’t had many lovers. I’m not made that way,” Nate explained.

“No, no, it’s great…wonderful,” I placated. “But babe, what I’m saying is that you have needs too. What do you need, Nate? I’m here for you. Anything,” I purred.

Nate’s breaths stuttered and he gazed at me, his eyes full of lust and uncertainty. I was surprised that he was struggling with my offer. His confidence about sex while we were on set must have been pretence, because in reality it appeared that Nate wasn’t sexually confident. The turmoil of his desire was all-too-real. How could a hot-as-fuck man like Nate not feel confident about sex? Did he not think himself worthy of love, of pleasure?

“Are you still in love with Erik?” I asked. I had to make sure that I wasn’t coercing Nate into something he wasn’t into.

“Oh no, no that ship sailed. But the fact I’m not in love with him…it’s…a recent realization,” he admitted. “I didn’t understand how far apart we’d drifted…we both work so hard…I just thought it was normal for relationships to go through dry spells, y’know. I, uh…guess I’m still processing.”

“Okay, I get it. But…we trust one another and we’re attracted to one another, right?”

“Right.”

“So, what’s the worst that could happen? What’s stopping you from sliding your hand into your sweats and taking out that delicious fat cock and then stroking it while we talk? Watch me, use your words. You like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?” I said in a slow sultry tone.

Nate’s breaths were ragged now, “Uhhh…nothing stopping me, I guess.” He gave me that lopsided, shy, boyish grin that made my dick ache.

“Let yourself go, Nate. Give yourself permission to be free and have some fun. Trust me, it’s time.”

Nate’s eyes blazed with pure unadulterated longing. And in that moment, it was like all of the intimacy we’d acted out for our movie was foreplay, leading to this real-life desire.

“Gah. Let’s fuckin’ do this!” he cursed.

Oh my god! We were really doing this! I could already see the defined outline of his chub. The sight of it delighted me, especially as I recalled how Nate had drunkenly revealed impotence issues and that he couldn’t get hard for Erik…but oh yes, I preened inside, Nate got hard for me!

I’m a trained dancer and know exactly how to use my body to excite a man and get him begging to touch me. I stood up, rested my phone on a pillow and, keeping direct eye contact with Nate on the screen, I began a sinfully slow striptease. I drew my t-shirt up, and over my head, and tossed it aside. Observing Nate watching me was heady. I let my hand drift slowly over my smooth hairless chest, and down to the ridges of abs showing him the shape of me. He gave a throaty groan.

“Tell me what you like,” I prompted.

“What, like in general?” he asked innocently.

I burst out laughing and was put off my sexy groove. “About me, what you see?”

“Oh, ohhh! I like your eyes, you, um…have soulful, kind eyes. When you look at me sometimes it feels like I’m the only man on earth.”

I was expecting him to talk dirty, about my abs, my ass, my dick. “Oh!” I sobered for a moment. That was so sweet. I hadn’t expected him to be so…emotionally candid. I recalled that Nate told me about his demi-sexuality–that he needs a deep emotional bond with a partner before he feels sexual attraction for them. We’d developed a bond of friendship over the past year, and this thing happening between us now was a minor miracle. I’d had an unrealistic vision of Nate when he was just my celebrity crush, and I suppose I’d told myself a story about his ‘gay relationship goals’ marriage to stop myself from falling for him when we were working together. Nate and Erik were out, proud, in-love, and highly successful in their careers. I’d believed that Nate was sexually confident, that he was happy—and nothing could top what he had with Erik. But, boy was I glad to be wrong! Nate seemed to have hidden himself inside the relationship. He’d devoted himself completely to Erik while secretly unhappy, sexually unfulfilled, and dealing with crushing self-doubt. I wanted to watch Nate find his pleasure. I wanted to be the man to get him there.

“So much about you turns me on, Nate. Your eyes are mesmerizing, but your mouth—I remember how you kissed me, your taste, how hungry you were for me.” Nate’s camera image was trembling. “Are you touching yourself, handsome? Are you hard for me?” I heard his breathy moan of “Jack!” and saw the evidence, yes, he’d slid his hand into his sweats, and he was hard! I continued, “I love the way you smell, woodsy and musky…and your smile…when you smile at me, I feel it in my balls.”

Nate’s hand kept a steady pumping rhythm as he stroked himself. “Fuhhhk, Jack!” He groaned like a wounded animal. “I could listen to you talking all day…your accents so sexy, you speak to me and my dick aches.”

“Let me see you. Take out that beautiful piece of meat and show me!” At hearing me say those words Nate groaned again and threw his head back to rest on the couch.

“You’re killin’ me, man!” He angled the camera down to show me the fat cut plum head peeking out over the waistband of his sweats. There was already a pearl glistening on the tip. “Damn,” I breathed out as my hand travelled down and gripped myself through the fabric of my jeans. The anticipation was so delicious that I didn’t want to pull myself out quite yet. “I wish I was there with you; I’d lick that salty jewel from your tip,” I admitted.

“Yeah, Jack, tell me what you’d do if you were here with me now.”

“See, I knew you were a natural,” I praised. Nate let out a chuckle before I revealed, “I’d take you apart, kiss by kiss, strip you, and get on my knees. I’d suck you to the back of my throat, and let you fuck my face. You’d hold my head in place, control every thrust.” Nate groaned, gripped his balls, and squeezed, appearing desperate to slow things down. The pride I felt at being able to do this to him with my voice was epic.

“Take off your sweats, babe. I wanna see all of you.”

“Wait, wait,” Nate said desperately, “Gonna take this into the spare room, I need some lube,” he said. The camera was shaky as Nate strode down a hallway.

“Why are you sleeping in the spare room?”

“Honestly, I wanna throw our mattress out of the window, but it would cause a traffic accident. So, I took another room. This place has six bedrooms. I’m spoiled for choice.” Nate turned on the bedroom light and directed the phone to show me his surroundings. The bedroom was large with more floor-to-ceiling windows that looked down on Manhattan, reminding me just how high up his penthouse was. The building opposite wasn’t as tall so he wasn’t overlooked. I’d never been a fan of skyscrapers; they gave me anxiety. I was more of a house or cottage kind of guy. I needed a garden to feel grounded; I needed the smell of soil, the grass beneath my feet. I needed to be close to nature, and fresh air. I could never live sky-high like Nate did. His bed was made up with crisp white linens; the walls were white; the floor was white marble. It was all quite clinical in a way, as if no one lived there. Where was the colour, the art, the personality? Nate loved theatre, music, the sea, and nothing I’d seen in the multi-million-dollar penthouse spoke of the real him, as if he’d muted himself for his husband’s more dominant personality to shine.

I removed my jeans and shorts and attached my phone to a tripod arm I kept beside the nightstand for occasions like this where I needed both hands. I was laid out, naked, one hand roaming over my chest, the other teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.