Nuno R.F.C.R
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"Okay," Mateo whispered, voice suddenly stripped of its usual theatrics. "Okay, so, um. We have...we have a lot of people." Hudson sat on the edge of the bed. Liam stood by the door, bare feet silent on the floor, every muscle in his body awake. Mateo kept scanning. "I see TMZ," he said, counting off with the same hand that held the blind slat. "I see...ugh...Daily Mail. That one with the weird logo. There's...hold on... there's like...real news camera." Liam moved clo
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Liam carried Hudson down the narrow hallway. Hudson's legs stayed locked around Liam's waist, arms looped behind his neck, mouth still warm from the kiss that had saved them both from themselves. Every step Liam took felt deliberate, as if he were walking a stolen miracle into shelter. Hudson's bedroom waited at the end of the corridor, small and imperfect in the way real rooms were. A laundry basket half-hidden beside a dresser. A thrifted lamp with a shade that threw soft, honeyed l
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"I Know You're In There"
Nuno R.F.C.R commented on Nuno R.F.C.R's story chapter in "I Know You're In There"
And the award for best comment goes to..!- 13 comments
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The restaurant moved like a living thing, snapping at its own tail, and lunch rush had bled into late afternoon without anyone noticing. Hudson moved through it. He wove between tables with trays balanced on one hand, not because he wasn't tired, but because being busy kept him from thinking. If he stopped, even for a second, his mind did what minds did when they weren't being held down by work: it wandered straight toward a house on a hill and a man with chestnut eyes. So Hudson
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As in many of the cases with child actors, the younger the "abuse" starts (be it psychologically or worse) the harder it becomes for them to acknowledge it as such. By the time they reach adulthood, considerable damage has already been done. Luckily for Liam, a cute little angel with turquoise eyes and an apron, was sent down to help him out...
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I'd say that's a reasonable reaction 😉
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(Thirteen Years Earlier) The first time Liam learned what it meant to be kept was not in a house with gates. It was in a studio cafeteria that smelled like burnt coffee and industrial fries, where the light was always too bright, and the clocks always seemed to run faster than they should. He was twelve then. His feet didn't reach the floor from the plastic chair, so he sat with his legs tucked back, sneakers hooked around the metal rung. The table was too big for one person,
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Hudson woke slowly, not jolted but pulled from sleep like a tide receding. His body felt heavy in that good, used way, warm, loose, satisfied. A silk sheet lay across his hips and thigh, cool against his skin. He blinked, stared at the ceiling, then turned his head. Liam wasn't in the bed. Hudson sat up slightly, the sheet sliding down, and scanned the room. Then he saw him. Liam sat in an armchair near the window, facing out toward the view, and he looked like he'd been
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Hudson prowled across the mattress, muscles coiling beneath water-slicked skin. His palm slammed Liam's chest flat against the sheets, forcing a raspy gasp from his plush lips as Hudson straddled Liam's sculpted thighs. Liam's body was a masterpiece. Sun-kissed skin stretched over corded muscle, that thick 9-inch cock already weeping pearly precum onto his abdomen. The vein-throbbing shaft curved upward, foreskin peeled back to reveal a glistening plum-colored head that pulsed with eve
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"Quit Playing Around, Arizona"
Nuno R.F.C.R commented on Nuno R.F.C.R's story chapter in "Quit Playing Around, Arizona"
“No shirt” = literally topless, bare torso. “Chest open” = In writing, it can often be used as a mood or figure of speech: unguarded, bold, intimate. -
"Quit Playing Around, Arizona"
Nuno R.F.C.R commented on Nuno R.F.C.R's story chapter in "Quit Playing Around, Arizona"
This'll definitely be a growing experience (no pun intended). For both boys! -
"Quit Playing Around, Arizona"
Nuno R.F.C.R commented on Nuno R.F.C.R's story chapter in "Quit Playing Around, Arizona"
Hudson needs media training. For sure. -
Let's be greedy and aim for both.
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Thank you for reading!
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A week later, Hudson had learned two new facts about himself. One: he could carry three plates, dodge two drunk tourists, and refill a water glass without spilling a drop. Two: none of that required as much concentration as pretending his phone didn't exist. It sat in his back pocket, warm from his body, buzzing at the worst possible times. He'd be balancing a tray of cocktails, and suddenly his entire brain would go "It's him", and he'd have to bite the inside of his cheek to kee
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This got a laugh out of me.
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Thank you for commenting!
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Can't think of a better review...thank you!
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Thank you for reading!
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Do you charge for your services? 😉 (Thank you for spotting it.)
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Hudson's mouth opened before his brain could negotiate with it. "I'm not letting you fuck me." The sentence fell onto the table like a dropped fork, loud in the silence, absurdly blunt, impossible to pretend it hadn't happened. For a heartbeat, Liam stared at him. Then he laughed. It wasn't the polished, public laugh Hudson imagined actors perfected. Rather something warm and surprised and a little helpless. Hudson felt his ears burn. "What?" "Nothing," Liam ma
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“Hey.” Hudson didn’t mean for the word to come out too fast. It just slipped out, half greeting, half apology, as his tray struck the edge of the booth and the world lurched into that awful slow-motion reserved for gravity’s mischief. The lemon wedge skidded, the glass teetered, and ice scattered like frantic diamonds. Hudson lunged, caught the glass by the neck, and pinned it upright with his palm. The drink sloshed but didn’t spill. A miracle. His heart, however, did spill
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In a quiet West Hollywood restaurant, a broke waiter and a reclusive world-famous actor unexpectedly connect. Their guardedness and loneliness meet, launching a story not just of falling in love, but of a connection tested by time.
