My cock twitches under the compliment and it's all I can do not to whimper.
It's too much to hope that he won't notice, especially when I'm still standing and my crotch is basically at his eye level. Dmitri's lips quirk again. "So, you enjoy praise, then." It's not a question.
I nod anyway. "Yes, Sir." It’s not my favorite title for a Dom, but it’s more universal than the ‘Daddy’ that I prefer to use.
I guess I made a good choice, seeing as his eyes gleam. "Oh,good boy."
This time I do whimper, and I reach for my dick, hoping to dosomethingto calm it down. I can't get cum —or even precum— all over this costume before we start filming.
"Tsk-tsk," Dmitri reaches out with one of his drool-worthy tattooed arms and gently curls his fingers around my wrist. "No touching, darling boy. Save it for the scene."
Ohhhhhh my god.
I find myself squirming and whining. "I...I...I..." My cheeks are on fire, the embarrassment of being so insanely hard under the bright lights of the studio, surrounded by people going about their daily jobs, is doing strange things to my nerve endings.
"Take a breath for me," Dmitri instructs, but his tone is patient and gentle. "Good. Now, what were you saying?"
"I'm" —I swallow roughly— "I'mreallyclose to coming already."
It's humiliating to admit, especially to him. To my club crush. My experienced porn partner to be. But that just seems to make me more excited. I put that down to being a weird nerve thing.
"Can you tell me why that is?" he asks calmly and without judgment.
"Um," the part of me that thrives on praise wants to give in and be honest. But being honest means confessing my crush, and I don't think I can do that...although my stomach gets that pleasant twisty-coiling sensation at the renewed burst of embarrassment at the idea of it.
Dmitri arches an eyebrow and opens his mouth, then frowns. "I didn't get your name."
It's such a non-sequitur that I'm thrown out of my hazy, hyper-excited state almost instantly. "What?"
"Your name, sweetness. I didn't get it."
"Oh." I blink. In all the whirlwind of knowing who he was, I guess I didn't think it was important to introduce myself. "Um, it's Miles.I'mMiles."
"Miles," he repeats, as though he's testing the weight of my name on his tongue...and,oh God, why am I now thinking about his tongue? Thankfully, he distracts me by asking, “What’s your screen name?”
“Oh. Uh,” I start to blush and squirm again, “Miles Deep.”
He snorts. “Well, it’s better than Rod Steele. That’s mine, by the way.” I file that away as he tilts his head again and presses, “Is Miles your actual first name?”
“Yeah, it is. But, uh, the assistant who was helping me fill in my contract…they suggested Miles Deep. I can’t take credit for it.”
He chuckles and glances around the room. “That sounds like a Jamie idea.”
“Is Jamie the assistant with the blue hair?” He nods and I grin. “Then, yeah. It was a Jamie idea.”
After a beat, Dmitri asks, “Have you calmed down now, Miles?”
I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something in the way he says my name so directly that has heat pooling in my belly again. Clearing my throat, I bob my head. “Y-yeah.”
And there goes the eyebrow again. “Miles.”
Fuck.
“I…Iam. I just…”
He sits up straighter, arms still folded, the jacket straining against his biceps. That realization isn’t helping my case as he waits in silence.
I sigh. “It’s been a while for me,” I finally admit, “and you…” I lick my lips, flames of embarrassment licking up the back of my neck and making the tips of my ears burn. “You’reyou.”
