For the first time, our set is not a construction scene, but a rather sparsely decorated living room. It’s our last scene, and the moment I’d been looking forward to for so long now has my stomach all tied up in knots. What will happen to us once this is over, once Rebel gives us the green light to break up? A sadness invades me at the thought.

Tank hasn’t said anything about wanting to stay together...or about what he feels for me. There have been moments when I was sure Brayden had been right, that Tank loves me, too, but then other moments he seemed distant. I don’t know what to do, but I do know that I can’t risk telling him and getting rejected. I’m not that strong.

I try to shake off that insecure feeling as I walk from the locker room to the set, where Rebel and Tank are already waiting for me. I swallow when I spot him, dressed in tight, bright blue boxers that highlight his dick and balls and an even tighter darker blue shirt with a deep V.

His chest hair curls over the neck of his shirt, and I can’t wait to let my hands run through it. I love that he’s hairy everywhere. He’s so fucking masculine, the epitome of sexy, at least to me.

I don’t know when that changed. I don’t know when he transformed from irritating as fuck into...yeah, into what, exactly? I don’t know what he is, but he’s so much more than my enemy, my coworker, and even my pretend-boyfriend. And I want him to be even more. I want him to be everything, but how do I tell him that?

When I meet his eyes, I see some of my own confusion reflected, and it settles me. I don’t need to have all the answers right now. He doesn’t have them, either. But at least we’re in this together, whatever this is and wherever it will lead us.

“Hi,” I say gamely and do an awkward attempt at a wave.

“Hi,” he says back, sending me a careful smile.

Rebel sighs. “So many weeks of hanging out and pretending to be boyfriends and this is how far you’ve gotten? Hi? Wow, you two are eloquent.”

He doesn’t realize it, how much emotion is in that simple word. It used to be because Tank and I had nothing more to say to each other, but now it’s because we have so much to say, but we don’t know where to start. Maybe Ronan Keating was right with that incredibly sappy love song. Maybe we do say it best when we say nothing at all. Maybe I can show him?

As if reading my mind, Tank holds out his hand to me, and I take it, allowing him to pull me close to him. Heat is radiating from him, and when he does that thing where he tickles my ear with his beard, I sigh a little.

Rebel’s mouth drops slightly, because he obviously wasn’t expecting this.

“Tell us what you want, Rebel, other than the script you sent us,” Tank says, his voice friendly, his hand strongly around mine.

“Right. Yes, okay. Well, as should have been obvious from the script, we’ve moved the storyline toward love between you two. Brewer, you’ve been thinking about that last encounter, and you can’t get it out of your head, so you unexpectedly drop by to get some answers on how Tank feels about you. We don’t want you guys declaring eternal love, but we do want to see it in the sex scene. We’re aiming for slow here, guys. Make it look natural and real, and above all, romantic.”

Tank nods with a serious expression. “You asked us both to prep and the script said nothing specific about the sex, so any notes for us there?”

“Make it last. That’s it. I honestly don’t care who does what but make it last.”

There’s that hint of a smile again on Tank’s lips, that expression I’ve come to love so much. “You know I can last for hours,” he says.

“Not with me,” I pipe up.

His smile widens. “True. Not with you.”

Rebel clears his throat. “Okay, all set then?”

We nod and take our places. I’m still dressed, but I’m sure Tank will remedy that soon enough. They’ve created the appearance of a front door, so on cue, I pretend-ring the bell. They’ll edit in sound later.

Tank opens the door, and for a second or two my mind goes blank. Words, I need words.

“I need to talk to you,” I manage and step inside.

“About what?” he says, stern as ever.

And then the words fall of my lips by themselves, because I don’t have to act at all. “About us. About whether there is an us. About that last time you fucked me, and you held me afterward, and it didn’t feel like the sex we’d had before.”

“How did it feel?” His voice is hoarse now.

“Like more. Like it wasn’t just sex.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he reaches for my hand, pulls me ever so slowly toward him. And I go, because I always go when he pulls me in, like a magnet drawn to iron. He doesn’t let go until our noses are an inch apart, and even then, he holds on to my hand, laces our fingers together.

“I don’t think it was ever just sex, fuckboy.”

And then he kisses me. Not the raw, demanding kisses from before, but a softer kind, a kiss that melts my insides until I’m liquid fire and want to crawl inside him. It’s a kiss that sinks its tender claws in me until I’m hooked and don’t ever want to leave his arms.

We kiss for what feels like half an hour, and when he finally releases me, his lips are swollen from mine. He puts our foreheads together, and I love that we’re almost on equal height.

“What do you want, baby?”

The term of endearment makes my heart stop for a second. He’s never called me that, ever. And I can’t do anything else but surrender. No more fighting. He’s won. But I won, too.

“You. I want you. All of you.”

He smiles. “Baby, you already have me.”

“Then show me.”

I see understanding dawning in his eyes. I don’t want to battle for supremacy anymore. I want him to lead. Right here, right now, I want him to show me everything he feels for me...and I will show him my heart.

“Gladly,” he whispers before kissing me again.

He kisses me until we both run out of breath, and then he slips his hands underneath my jeans and deftly unbuttons me. I whip my shirt over my head as he kneels to take off my shoes, then my socks and jeans.

He drags his index finger from my ankle to the edge of my boxers when he rises, and I shiver. “Are you gonna make me beg again?” I say.

He shakes his head. “No. No begging tonight.”

Our mouths find each other in another deep, slow kiss. My hands find a spot under his shirt, caressing that strong back, those powerful muscles. He growls softly when my hands move to his ass and knead both his cheeks.

He puts his hands on my hips and lifts me, surprising me. I let out a surprised little squeak and wrap my legs around his waist. He nuzzles my neck with his lips, then his beard as he carries me to the bed, where he gently lowers me before taking off his shirt.

He gestures me to crawl back on the bed, and I position myself on my back, opening my arms wide when he climbs on top of me. I love that we’re both still wearing underwear. I’m not used to taking it slow, but there’s something wonderfully erotic about being almost naked, rather than completely naked.

After some more languid kissing, he starts moving down my body. First, he peppers my throat with little kisses and smiles when I moan. “You’re so sensitive there,” he says.

His mouth makes a hot, wet path downward, toward my right nipple. He flicks it with his thumb first, until it’s hard and ready for his mouth, and then he alternates sucking with gentle scraping with his teeth.

I restlessly move my hands, searching for something to anchor to, and he grabs both my hands with his right hand and pins them above my head, while starting that same slow torture on my other nipple.

He licks his way toward my belly button, letting go of my hands when he can’t reach them anymore, and crawling down on the bed for better access. He teases my belly button with his tongue until my hands find his head, grabbing a hold of his short hair.

This time, he doesn’t move them away but allows me to sort of hold on to him as he continues his assault on my senses. It’s like I need to touch him to stay steady, because the things he’s doing to me elicit such a storm of sensations in me that I don’t know what to do with myself. My body is on fire, and he’s both the cause and the solution.

He’s reached my boxers, which are showing a stain where my cock is leaking through the cotton. First, he nuzzles my cock with his nose, gently bumping it until the head peeks out from under the waistband. Then he opens his mouth and ever so softly bites my cock through the fabric, and dammit, I moan so loud I almost startle myself.

“Please, oh, fuck, please,” I beg.

“Oh, I love it when you beg,” he whispers. “You get this desperation in your voice, and it makes me so fucking hard.”

He drags down my boxers, and I sigh with relief. I need more. I need him.

Tank is not inclined to speed things up, however. I don’t know if it’s because he has Rebel’s instructions firm in mind, or if he has different reasons, but the man is determined to take his fucking time.

He licks and nibbles on my cock, which shoots tendrils of fire down to my balls and into the rest of my body. He scrapes my balls with his teeth, rasps against them with his beard, which drives me absolutely nuts.

When he pushes against my legs so I pull them up, I don’t even realize what he’s planning, until he moves that tongue downward. Then his beard scratches my ass as he tongues my hole, first with tentative licks, and then bolder, with deep thrusts that make me fist his hair all over again. I’m babbling, moaning, pleading with him to please, please, fuck me, but he’s undeterred.

His tongue is replaced by a slick finger, then two, and three. Even in my daze, I realize that what he’s doing is extraordinary, because we don’t usually show prep, but he’s fucking me with his fingers, and it feels so good, and it’s so fucking hot, and can he please, please, please put his cock in me?

By the time he drags down his own boxers and rolls on a condom, I’m a whimpering mess, rolling around the bed with my eyes pinched shut. There’s little left of the experienced porn star that I’m supposed to be. Right now, all I am is a cock-starved man, an empty, quivering hole desperately wanting to be filled.

And when he fills me, when he slides that fat cock into me, all I can say is, “Thank you, thank you. Oh god, finally.”

And he smiles and kisses me to shut me up. Oh, god, he works that cock, first gently thrusting in me, then increasing in speed and depth. He hits my prostate full on, and I’m so on the edge that I barely have time to give the signal that I’m about to come.

My balls detonate, there’s no other word for it, and I come all over his chest and my own, even hitting myself in the face with a thick rope. He waits till I’m done shaking and moaning, and smiles, a soft, loving smile, and licks the cum off my face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he says.

I expect him to change positions, because that’s what we usually do, but he stays right where he is. “I want to look at you when I come,” he whispers. “I want to see the pride on your face that you do this to me, baby. You’re so perfect around my cock, and so fucking gorgeous, and I never want to stop looking at you.”

His eyes drill into mine as he starts fucking me for real, and I realize he held back before to make me come first. I widen my legs, open my ass for him, and take him as deep in as I can.

My hands find their favorite spot on his ass cheeks, and I hold on to him as he fucks me with deep, powerful strokes. I can tell when he’s about to come, and he yanks his cock out, stripping himself of the condom. Both our hands curl around him and together, we bring him to an explosive orgasm.