Page 40 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
Well, Jonah knew enough about “family stuff” to last him a lifetime, which meant he knew he didn’t have any right to pry. “Oh. Well. I hope everything’s okay.”
“Thanks.”
Jonah closed his eyes and swallowed down the lump he didn’t realize had formed in his throat. “But. You could have sent me a message, right?Like, I know that sounds super needy or whatever, but you just left me hanging. Again. Which is fine, but I’m not just waiting around for you to pick up whenever you feel like it.”
Dexter gave a small, understanding nod. “I guess that’s fair.” He looked around the room before leaning slightly closer, close enough Jonah could feel his breath on his cheeks. “I kind of like you sounding needy.”
Jonah blinked. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He delivered his signature Dexter Ellis shit-eating grin. “Shows how much you want me.”
“I don’t want anyone who wears one of these.” Jonah reached for the elastic band keeping back Dexter’s hair and pinged it against his scalp. “You’re not David Beckham circa 2003.”
“Did you... did you just make a sports reference?”
“No. I made a fashion reference.”
Dexter laughed then and adjusted the band on his head. “Whatever.” He deliberately made a show of looking Jonah up and down. “I’m hardly going to take fashion advice from someone so passé.”
“You need to shut your face, because I’m not the one who goes to a fucking club wearing an embroidered Labrador on my jumper.”
Dexter’s face fell. “Shit. I forgot I lost that, thanks for reminding me, you twat. And, I’ll have you know, that jumper has got me a lot of attention.”
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.” Jonah brushed past him and made his way over to the other side of the studio, where Peter stood talking with a couple of members of the ensemble. Jonah didn’t need to look to know Dexter still had his eyes on him.
Dexter squirmed beneath him, hands clasped around Jonah’s wrists as he tried to stop the dagger from coming down to deal the final blow. The rest of the cast stood round in rapt attention, the tension Dexter added to the scene enthralling, a completely desperate and believable side of Hector no one had seen before. It worked. The struggle. The last-ditch attempt to save his life. And when Jonah finally plunged the dagger to the side of his neck, some of the cast gasped and covered their mouths in shock. They knew the scene, of course, but seeing it played out so close and withthe added hope from Hector meant the experience hit them differently. Jonah had to give it to Dexter; he played the part brilliantly. He wondered what Dexter was like as Achilles. If he put as much of his soul into the role as he clearly was doing with Hector, then he must have been spectacular.
“Amazing,” Colbie said from the corner, unlit cigarette between her lips as she clapped, spurring the others on to do the same. “I bloody love it!”
“So, the stage will rotate here as the orchestra start the beginning notes of the next song, and when it gets to the back you guys will be in darkness ready to exit stage left,” a stage technician said, gesturing with his hands how the rotation would work as Jonah watched him from his position straddling Dexter’s lap.
As the cast for the next scene made their way onto the stage marked out on the flooring, Jonah looked down at Dexter as he felt him shift beneath him. He knew he needed to get up to make way for the others, he didn’t want to be the one responsible for holding up a rehearsal, but the look on Dexter’s face told him to stay still. Jonah became aware of two important things at the exact same time. Firstly, Dexter looked fucking insatiable with a deep red flush over his cheeks. Secondly, he could feel from where his legs were positioned on either side of the other man, right where his arse was, that Dexter was undeniably hard.
“Oh my God, are you—”
“Shut up,” Dexter whispered, his tone as sharp as knives. “You need to get off me and make sure no one looks at us.”
Jonah glanced at the bodies congregating along the white line on the floor, all with their backs to them, apart from the people sitting at the front of the room watching. “You’ve got to move, or we are going to be stuck right in the middle of the scene.”
“Just hang on.” Dexter placed his hands on Jonah’s waist and eased him from his lap, then not so elegantly rolled onto his side to face the back of the studio then shuffled on his bum to the edge and out of the way of the others. Jonah watched him, his own cheeks burning, and stood awkwardly; he’d already taken too long to exit the space, and he could feel Colbie’s eyes drilling into the back of his head as he took a seat on the floor beside Dexter.
“That will teach you not to wear such tight joggers,” Jonah whispered.
“Shut up.”
“Wait, oh my God—” Jonah gawped at Dexter as realization dawned on him. This happened before. Dexter also didn’t get up from the floor the first time they did their combat rehearsals. “You got turned on the first time we did this.” He was hard then and hard now. All from having Jonah on his lap, riding him like a cowboy. Yee fucking haw.
“Will you keep your voice down?” Dexter cupped a hand over Jonah’s mouth. Jonah licked his palm in retaliation, and Dexter scowled at him, dropping his hand. “Seriously, I’m bloody embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.”
“Easy for you to say.” He adjusted the crotch of his joggers and pulled his legs up to his chest protectively. “I swear it won’t happen onstage.”
“I should hope not. Can’t have Hector all aroused while being stabbed to death.” He nudged his shoulder against Dexter’s and leaned in to whisper to him, his breath tickling the skin on the blond’s neck. “If you took me for that drink, you might get me on your lap without all these people watching.”
Jonah didn’t think it was possible for Dexter’s face to turn a deeper shade of red, but somehow he managed it. He swallowed thickly and turned his head to look at Jonah, their faces close, close enough for their lips to meet with very little effort if one of them made the move.
“What if,” Dexter whispered, “I would rather be on top of you like that?”
