He tilts his head, lying back on the couch with his knees opening and closing. “What do you mean?”
“What would he do if they asked him to show them that side of him no one else gets to see? Something that would bring them closer to him?”
His brows push together. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“I’m not really him.”
“Yes, but I’m asking you to be him for this movie, and we’re going to pretend it is you. Right now you’re him, and he is you.”
He swallows so hard his throat bobs. “He’s a killer.”
“He is,” I agree.
“He would have liked what he did with that machete,” he adds, voice cracking.
“Yes. He likes making people bleed,” I say, stepping closer and handing him a clean nail file. “And so do you.”
“Am I . . . I’m still pretending, right?” With hesitant movements he takes the object from my hand and looks down at it, heat stirring in his eyes.
“If you want to be.”
“You also said that . . . that.” He chews on his bottom lip, his eyes moving from side to side.
“What did I say?”
“That I like making you bleed,” he stutters.
“Ah. That’s right. I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” His face scrunches up. “That doesn’t mean I’m like him, though.”
“Of course not. You’re acting, remember?”
“I . . . yeah.” He twirls the nail file between his fingers, confusion furrowing his brow. He doesn’t know what’s what anymore. If he needs to use the character, Ben, as a crutch for now, then I’ll let him. Whatever helps him find himself more. “I liked making you bleed, but Ben likes making others bleed too.”
“And what else?”
“He . . . he likes the sounds skin makes when it’s breaking.”
“Show me. Show the camera.”
His nose flares. “You want me to pretend?”
“Sure, and if there’s an accident, then there is. That nail file is very slippery, and I tend to move a lot when I’m close to coming,” I say, shoving my cock in his face.
Licking his lips, his face moves closer, darting in and out of his mouth. “Accidents are known to happen.”
“Yeah. They are. Accidents happen all the time, baby. You can’t always prevent them. Sometimes they need to happen.”
His eyes lift to me and to my leaking tip. His tongue swipes over my slit and I shiver, running my fingers through his hair while squeezing my other hand around the camera.
“I . . . I should put this down to lessen our chances.”
“You should, but maybe you forget to, Maybe I distract you and come up to you while you’re filing your nails, grabbing your face.” I hook my fingers around his chin, squeezing it tightly, and he winces. “And part your lips with my cock before you realize what I’m doing. Before you have a chance to stop it.”
He looks down at his nails and waves his hand around. “I do need to do some upkeep. I’d hate to look a mess for the camera.”