We're Strictly Professionals {darkest_fate&Rave}

Emma Watson let out a low, throaty moan, the noise bubbling up from within her throat. The noise came out slightly guttural, almost wet, the sort that pulled from the groin or became wrenched out mid pleasure. The casual listener hearing the beautiful Brit making that noise would no doubt stop, would turn, would feel at twinge at the loins that made them stop and pause.

Unfortunately for Emma, she wasn't making said noise for the casual listener: "Yeah, sort of like that, but we need it to be realer. We're shooting for authenticity here: that in your face raw energy. Don't worry," a hand was raised in Emma's direction while she frowned at its owner, "your partner will be great at helping with that. It's just a dry-run-through."

Emma was tempted to say that, in fact, that wasn't the case: she'd had the script for a few days and ran through that line at least a dozen or so times. That guttural noise had taken hours of practice to pull out, and at least one embarrassing session with a particularly favorite "wand" of Emma's, to really perfect. To hear that all that practice simply hadn't worked... well, he did make it sound like her partner would...

Wait a moment: her partner? Emma frowned again. She knew she'd have to at least make the appropriate noises for the voice-over, but she'd been under the impression that there would be a body double for the actual... sessions. Yes, they'd had her dress appropriately for the scene: the frilled pink outfit emphasizing her pale complexion attested to that, but she hadn't thought she'd be doing much with a partner. Suddenly the frilled light fabric felt decidedly skimpy, and Emma could feel a flush rising to her cheeks. The pale English Rose complexion made it all too easy for the pink to show among the ivory, a realization that generally made the reddening deepen. Brown eyes already flashed with frustration and protest, even though Emma knew that she'd already signed on for this, already shot a few scenes, hell, she'd shot everything up until she got introduced to her partner for this. There had been mention of a "dry run" for the "real thing," but again...

"Call him in, would you?" asked the director, already moving. Several other crew members were already moving about, a makeup girl twittering close to Emma to finish up the last few details: blush up cheeks, smooth out lips. Said girl insisted in a breathy voice that Emma would be quite lucky, that she was super jealous of her, and not just because of her near perfect complexion. Just as she was finishing, she insisted that Emma not frown, which of course only made the uptight brunette frown deeper.

She should've doublechecked that contract. Now, at least, she had to just make it through this one scene... in frilled pink clothes... while being told she had to "moan more authentically..." with someone she'd never met...

"The challenges of acting," Emma mumbled wryly under her breath. At least the comment twisted her lips into a half-smile.

Andrew wasn't exactly the type to hold down one job for too long. Moving from location to location across the world tended to mean that he wasn't in anything long term. Sometimes, he was a surfing instructor when in coastal areas. Others, he was a mechanic-- Trucks and Bikes broke down often in the Mid-West United States. Still, the New York native enjoyed his life style. A nomad, by any number of meanings, from the day he was born. A college degree in linguistics and three languages of fluency pretty much allowed him the life style he had. English, Spanish, and French meant he usually went wherever he wanted to, without coming into much difficulty.

Yet a job offer in London was a rather tempting one. A modelling agent had sought him out a few days earlier for a rather...unconventional job he couldn't offer one of his regulars. It paid well, and it allowed him to work with one of the hottest actresses in Britain right now-- Emma Watson. She had grown from the child in Harry Potter, to more or less a world-wide sex symbol. He knew more men with Emma Watson posters than Megan Fox nowadays. Perhaps it was her innocence, her feminism that made men want to angry-fuck her, or simply the charm of growing up with her, most in their 20s agreed that she was a woman they'd love to be with.

All of this lead him here-- to this film set's green room, waiting for Emma to be ready. He'd already been briefed and told everything he needed to do. The multiple sex scenes. The realism. How it was his job to provoke a natural response from her that was authentic and pleasurable. He barely had to audition. The moment the man's cock was revealed to the casting director, judging by her blush, she'd made her mind up right then and there. So finally, when he was called out, he made his way out to set.

He had nothing but a towel wrapped around him, and quickly he was swarmed by two make-up crew ladies, who brushed on whatever they needed to for complexion and such. Perhaps they just wanted to get their hands on him, he didn't know-- nor cared. He simply saw Emma, and a small smirk slipped across his lips. She was dressed in that sultry, frilly little pink thing and he knew it wouldn't be hard at all for his cock to get a rise out of things. In fact, its outline down his leg would be rather obvious beneath a flimsy towel, and if she looked at him closely enough, she might have even caught it twitching from eagerness.

"Emma." He called out her name, offering a charming smile while extending a hand half-way between them. "My name's Andrew. I believe I'll be your partner and coach today." His smile remained, before he looked over to the director for further instruction. "Are we ready to start?"

Well, Emma could certainly see what had the makeup girl cooing. Her brown eyes locked on Andrew as he approached, quickly scanning the bared chest. Despite herself, Emma found her gaze lingering on those impressive muscles. The refined Brit wasn't generally one to coo over boys, though it did happen. This particular specimen certainly looked, well, tempting. Hell, he looked about ready to pose shirtless for a magazine.

"Pleasure to meet you, Andrew," Emma replied. Her eyes had already flicked up to meet his, a hand extending to meet his own. She lightly shook his hand, giving him just enough contact to be polite before releasing. A smile again twisted her lips. "Shame that we didn't get a chance to get comfortable before--"

"I believe we're ready," the director interrupted. Emma sighed, fighting back some of the frustration said director arose within her. She'd dealt with temperamental directors before, and she knew full well that this world often drew the mercurial. Still, this "artist" seemed to thrive off a caustic personality, and Emma had to retain all her composure. "Now, remember the script and your motivations. Emma, you're an innocent away in the new town, and you found yourself swept up by Andrew's roguish charms. Desperate to break away, you're now finding yourself letting him draw the pleasures of the world out of your trembling frame."

Emma's eyes flicked to the director, finding that description a tad too erotic. She'd read the script, obviously. Still, she had to smile and nod, before taking a step closer to Andrew. Her hands rose up to lace around his neck, the smile taking on a nervous edge that wasn't entirely acting. At least Emma's role was mostly to react, at least for this scene. She braced herself for that telling word:

"Action!"

She was...incredibly cute. He knew it, but seeing her in person was something else. Especially since she was in the right make-up, wearing what she was wearing. Everything about her was displaying the innocent, lustful perfection. Despite her nervousness, he didn't seem bothered at all, like he was used to these kinds of circumstances. The director had interrupted her, only allowing Andrew to let a laugh escape before shifting away to allow her to get ready. While she looked at the director and criticized him with her gaze, he spun to loosen his towel and hand it over to one of the assistants on set.

When he'd turn, he'd draw a few gasps from those who weren't at his audtion. Between his legs hung a monstrous thing, a 13 inch cock danging down as far as they very ends of his thighs. It was thick, girthy-- enough that you could see the outline of some veins along its length. Though he, probably used to this kind of reaction, brushed it off and walked up to Emma, letting her drape her arms around his neck as the scene required. Before the director yelled for action, Andrew already knew what to do to ease her into this. A single finger slid down, beneath the frills of her dress. It brushed past any stubbles of hair, and let itself roll and press at Emma's click to draw a gasp and wetten her unexpectedly.

"Just relax. I will take good care of you."

He whispered against her lips, and just as quickly, the director yelled for action. He had no lines-- he was a stand in, after all, but he was encouraged to grunt and act naturally. And so he did. Without much warning after that, he'd proceed as he was told. She'd be pressed up against the wall of the set-- his character's mansion that she was drawn into. The wall, a pillar inside his home. He'd lower himself just a little bit. His free hand grabbed his cock, and a stroke or two hardened it for her. Only then would he slowly begin to part her cunt's lips with his cock, instructed to draw out those first gasps of pleasure a woman releases when she's entered for the first time. The grip of his shaft was strong, and he inched upwards on bare feet, to slowly start pushing the head of his cock into her little by little until he'd hear the satisfying 'plop' that signaled entry.

The smile turned into an expression of shock as the towel dropped. Emma's mouth fell open as her brown eyes locked on the thing rising up from between Andrew's legs. She'd never seen something like that: only a few toys even came close, and she'd always thought those to be jokes. The few boys she'd taken to her bed certainly hadn't been as well endowed as her toys, and this... this was just ridiculous.

That wasn't even considering the fact that he was full frontal nude. Emma had to put aside her shock, remember her professionalism, her insistence on making it through this scene. Put the arms up, let it lace around his neck and... and his finger touched against her. Emma gasped, arching up on her toes, letting a shiver shoot through her at nearly rapid speed. The comment hit her just as the shiver finished, and she let out a nervous laugh. "I guess we'll see about---"

Action, and Emma gasped. Her body went up, pressed against a wall, nearly slammed. Breath drew from the startled actress, her spinning head not letting her fully understand what was happening. She could hear movement, fleshy sounds. Something poked at her sex, still thankfully covered by frilly pink, albeit a pink growing decidedly darker. Emma could feel the domed head pressing against her, no doubt attempting entrance. She still had enough control to roll her hips back, letting the massive thing slide in front of her. She still felt it pressing hard against her abdomen, jutting against her.

"careful," she whispered, keeping her voice low, her words breathy. She shifted. "You very nearly slid in," she rolled her hips again, feeling the cock running against the thin fabric. Her eyes flicked, and Emma seriously considered suggesting some sort of condom at the least. What the hell were they thinking? She was already dazed, but there was no way she was going to let some random stranger just slide his cock inside her. Something that big would hurt without at least some preparation. "Ravish me," she breathed, hoping to get Andrew more in line. After all, the goal was to pleasure Emma's character, not simply to fuck her against a wall.

She was delicate, and he had to teat her as such. the way she moved about against him was careful, to avoid herself getting hurt by the sheer size of him. He could tell just then-- that this all took her off guard. She wasn't as prepared as he was, and so a new approach would have to be taken. This was a sensual scene, and so he'd approach things as such, to lead her little by little into the desired effect. "I need you to trust me, Emma." He whispered against her ear, his lips trailing from brushing against her own to her lobe so his words could be spoken without the camera catching them.

Only then did his cock pop out from between her thighs, grinding upwards against the flat of her stomach and abdomen. She'd engineered it that way, and he'd work with it. Suddenly his hands would grip her by her thighs, and raise her legs to wrap tightly about his waist. His hips would arch upwards and continue arching forward, grinding the underneath surface of his cock along her pussy's lips and against the clit, the head stopping just beneath the cusps of her breasts every time, before he'd lower and repeat the process.

It turned into a pattern, of him grinding forward and slowly pushing away that thin lace that covered her bare cunt from him. A hand would lower once more then, slipping beneath said lace to toy with her clit once more. The attention to the little nub, in addition to the friction against the dark pussy lips would simulate how she would play with one of her wants. Except his hands were firmed. His breath was warmed. And his lips would kiss at her jawline to ease her tensions, and send her relaxed body succumbing to his own.

Only when he'd feel her do so, would the grinds lower further and further, so that each time, the domed head threatened entry with a lustful and pleasurable push up into a wet cunt, only to slide up again and torture her with the tease of -almost-. "You need to let me." He'd whisper again into her ear, as the scene would dictate realism. This, is what he had to do. They couldn't just beat around the bush the whole time, as extremely enjoyable as grinding against her was. "Take it, Emma. Grip my cock and slide it in." An order-- given at the heights of lust, for the sake of professionalism and the film, of course.

Trust him? Emma frowned slightly: he hadn't exactly done a lot to make him all that trustworthy. Beyond his looks and his impressive member, he hadn't done a great deal to show that he could actually fulfill all the claims of being some sort of sex titan either. Thus far, Emma was most definitely unimpressed.

Hot breath did melt her distaste a little, as it puffed against an ear. Lips occasionally took her own, and Emma's moved in kind. Years of practice, not to mention dedication to her craft, drove Emma to at least respond to that. The kissing felt natural, the lips giving and taking one another in equal turn. Emma felt her resistance, at least to this, crumbling ever so slightly. That throbbing pillar of meat pressed against her bared abdomen, the molten heat of it seeping into her flesh. She felt her hips move slightly, canting ever so minutely in time with his own. The movements touched flesh to flesh, and Emma could feel that massive tool angling. It brushed a little button, one that she herself rarely found on her own, and she felt the burst of pleasure shooting up from within her at that touch. It made her gasp, a natural one that no doubt won some approval from the director and the crew. Hot breath followed, Emma's barely clad chest rising and falling quicker and quicker.

Kisses kept flowing. Emma felt her head lolling, the waves of light brown hair falling gently over her fine featured face. Heat blossomed among her, and her body clenched. Legs pulled slightly, body rolled, and Emma felt the hard body pressing just against her own, its sheer girth surpassing hers.

Another push, and Emma felt him going lower. Irritation blossomed, and she pulled back again. Once more she shifted, "Not yet," she insisted, a little more curtness coming into her voice, the tone clipped. "You are quite mad if you think I'm going to--"

"Come on!" the director insisted, again showing the knack for interrupting Emma. "This is supposed to be a seduction, not two teenagers grinding against each other! Andrew: don't you know how to treat a lady or do we need to get someone else in here? We got Emma fucking Watson here: you can try not acting like you're a teenager who just saw boobs."

Everything was progressing smoothly, but he knew what Emma didn't. This director didn't just want bare touches. He didn't want this. They'd already wasted too much time toying and easing away her reluctance, and as if on queue, the director let out a yell of disapproval. Perhaps if they were private and the situation was different, he'd have more time to slide all her barriers down. To coerce her out of every protest and demand. But right now, they needed to film.

"I'm sorry! But Miss Wats--" He paused mid words in reply to the impatient man. No, he wasn't going to throw her under the bus here. He simply silenced himself, and offered a smile. "Sorry, Director. I'll get on it." He knew that footage would simply be cut, so he just turned to Emma. Without much warning, he gripped her even tighter. A hand escaped from toying with her clit, and instead he raised one of her legs all the way up over his shoulders.

"Forgive me for this, It's my job." He'd offer her final words of warning for what he was about to do, before waiting for the director to yell 'Action' once more, and the moment he would, Andrew would take matters into his own hands. The grip on her thigh would be used as leverage. The one on her hip would keep her still and angled just right, before his cock's next push thrust home. No longer did he wait for her protests or wait for her to give the go ahead. That very cock she was dismissing was pushing into her, and she'd suddenly feel why people were in awe of him. Why people claimed him to be a sex titan, as opposed to himself calling him that.

There was no waiting-- or teasing. She was wet enough from the grinds already, and so his cock had minimal problems sliding inch by inch into the likely silently protesting Emma. Yet any words of disapproval would likely be halted, as the first of the thrusts came, sliding in his cock deep enough that his balls slapped up against her ass, and let Andrew let out a groan of pleasure from the incredible tightness. She was wet-- and warm, almost virgin-like but not quite, and it goaded him into making that thrust a series of many, to finally draw out the reactions the director was looking for.

If it was any consolation to her, his bites and brushes of lips at her jawline would return, to allow the scene a more sensual and heightened feel of pleasure than simply a rough taking of a woman against a wall.

The grip tightened, and Emma stiffened. What was Andrew planning? Was he going to... a hand lifted her up, and Emma had to grab onto Andrew for balance, feeling her body stretch. She'd some practice dancing and stretching, leaving her body more than flexible. Lifting her leg nearly to her head still stretched her already lean body taut, not to mention leaving her balance decidedly lacking. The starlet squirmed to try and get free, or let him slide against her again.

Instead she felt him slamming home.

Emma let out a loud gasp as the largest thing she'd ever felt entered her sex. The tight walls gripped like a velvet vice, clamping hard upon the invader and squeezing it. Emma could feel that incoming cock, feel every inch of the hard flesh as it slammed into her body. Flesh parted, contorting, pulling tight along the massive girth. Earlier moisture let the cock glide, but it could not stretch out an underused sex. The stretching sensation pushed hard up into Emma. She hissed through clenched teeth, gripping tight against him, shivering with the fullness, with the sensation, with everything.

"Ssss--" Emma hissed, breath driven out of her by incoming cock. Inch upon inch slid into her, unyielding in its path. Her head lowered, teeth nearly sinking into his shoulder. Perhaps he would slow, let her adjust, let her...

Thrust!

Emma's head whipped back as she cried out. Her knees shook, her body sliding down, spearing itself onto the massive rod of flesh. Emma could feel him hammering deep inside her: surely he couldn't sink all his massive cock into her quivering flesh. There couldn't be enough room in her... he'd have to fuck her womb or--god, the thrusts. Emma felt the friction sawing against her, making her gasp, her head lolling freely, lips moving like a fish desperate for air. Hands clawed desperately against him, attempting to find some purchase, some grounding point. Her sharp mind screamed at her to regain some control.

But her lips found themselves smothered in kisses, stealing more breath. Panting, flushed, Emma felt her body reacting to the primal pummeling it received at Andrew's hands.

She struggled against him with her cunt, yet not the rest of her body. It was too tight to take him in full, not right away, and seldom did he find a woman who could. She threw herself at him, desperate to find some hold on the man as he fought against the vice grip of her cunt to push more and more each time. Grunts escaped him against her lips, the desired ones for the Director's ears yet not fabricated. They were real, brought on by the sudden surrounding of warm and tight flesh that squeezed his cock so expertly he could barely slide back and ram her back up again.

And yet he did, with every thrust opening her up just a little more, spreading those cunt's lips a little further each time. She hissed, and he contained whatever grunts and groans of pleasure in his lips with each kiss until she built up to the ones desired by the director. Those big, gurgly ones of utter euphoria that they'd wanted for the shot-- but to achieve it, a little more work had to go into her.

She was right-- he could not fit his full cock into her unless he stretched her out, and those moans would not be withdrawn until he did. So suddenly, her hair would be grabbed instead and her head hoisted back, freeing her lips for moans. She dug down onto his shoulders with her nails, and to pay back, his teeth bit down against her neckline to send a sting of pleasure along with a new grip on her. His free hand used its powerful grip on her leg and hip to yank her down suddenly along with her whipping her own body down to spear herself onto him from instinctive pleasure, instantly causing the cock to push and ram through the cervix and his hips to pummel in a few more of his inches into her.

Had he not bit down on her, a rough and vicious growl of pleasure would escape him and ruin the shot-- but he left her lips open for this very moment. For the moment she'd feel herself more fulfilled by his cock than she'd ever felt in her life. When she'd feel that very thrust that took the head of his cock into her womb. When she'd feel his groin slap against the curves of her ass, as he raped Emma against the set's wall, and made it all look like the most sensual and intimate of fucks.

Emma Watson, beautiful, intelligent, had never really been fucked. Several previous paramours had made love to her. Taken her trembling body and laid her down on sheets, gently coaxing passingly pleasurable sensations from her quivering pale form. Soft, gentle motions had become sex to her, with the raw sensuality more reserved as a preamble, or something she did to herself in the dark.

Andrew fucked her.

A sharp pain signaled to Emma that he'd pulled. Her head jerked, her brown eyes flying open in pain and shock. Delicate fingers spread, only to close, digging exquisitely manicured nails into the man's hard torso. Just as her nails hit flesh, Emma felt a new sharp pain: the hot bite upon her neck. The girl screamed out, knowing her too pale flesh would easily show the pink of his marking for some time. The raw sensation, along with the realization shot into her. It blasted heat into her core, melting more resistance, sending muscles quivering and shaking. Emma's central tunnel shook and trembled, and as it did, something thrust upward.

Emma let out a choked noise as she felt the cock pushing hard. it pummeled, it shot, and Emma felt so much filling her. The cock had to be fucking into her womb now, piercing into her central womanhood. A guttural noise rumbled from her as she felt herself bobbing. The continued motions almost twisted it into a chant, her eyes beginning to roll with the pleasure and the pressure. "Ahaa," Emma managed, flailing slightly, hands waving only to grasp against him again. She felt her body tightening, pulled by the lifted leg, filled by the throbbing cock. A regular moaning, almost whiny groan left her for several seconds, until, that is, that she seemed to realize it. Her lip curled inward, perfect white teeth biting it, attempting to swallow the noise. The girl knew there would be a closeup of this, but she didn't care: she was already humiliated, and she would at least try to retain some small shred of dignity.

The scene was leading up to its finale, and he was going to play it to authenticity. The scene culminated with the rogue lover throwing passion to the wind and finishing within the innocent girl. Movies cared not for pregnancy or its potential risks. They focused on the heat-- the passion. Everything else was an afterthought. It was not like the real world, where such a thing-- a climax, could potentially lead to so much more. Yet such was the contract, and even without it, Andrew felt too fucking good in this woman to stop or pull out anyway.

It wasn't just because she was Emma Watson. Beautiful. Intelligent. It was because she was Emma Watson, tightest and warmest cunt he'd been in for a long, long time. Everything was carnal now. He almost forgot the script entirely and did exactly what the director had intended, simply fucking the woman against the wall the hardest and most intimate of ways he could. He could feel her canals stretch around him. He could feel her stomach constrict, her abdomen muscles faltering from all the squeezing. Her womb was a crevice unlike anything he'd felt-- a warm and fluid surround of pleasure that squeezed and stroked his cock so thoroughly that it began twitching inside her.

You could almost see the outline of his cock against her skin from outside, the behemoth of a shaft completely impaled inside the woman. His teeth released her skin suddenly. "Fuck! Agh.." Grunts of pleasure escaping the moment he did, before the hand in her hair suddenly lowered to grip her other leg and lift it off the ground too. Both of her legs were now hoisted up high against him, and she was utterly pinned between his chest, his cock, and the pillar behind her. Her dress was a shambled against the nakedness of him, its frills just slightly covering her bare cunt from showing on screen-- and if it had, the movie would never air. It was literal porn to watch. It'd be titled 'Emma Watson fucked by Mammoth Cock'. As long as things were barely hidden, it would fly.

Yet what he couldn't hide, is what all this was doing to him. Further grunts were escaping. His cock was visibly twitching inside her womb with every powerful thrust that slapped his groin into her ass. A sudden moan left him as precum began to shoot deep inside her, smearing her womb's walls with squirts of the appetizer before the meal.

He leaned back to look at her for just a second, before his lips smashed into her own once more for a heated kiss. All the indications were there-- if the director didn't yell cut, this man would be cumming inside Emma Watson.

Emma swore she could feel the cock stretching her very abdomen. The thick thing resized her insides, reshaping her tight channel as a sheath for its impressive girth. She could feel it hammering, working, plowing so deep inside her. How could anyone possibly think straight with this much cock thrusting so deep inside them?

A hand released hair. Emma felt the waves fall about her shoulders, sticking to her flesh. Teeth parted from skin, leaving a puckered mound of flesh. Gasping, Emma's brown eyes looked into Andrew's own. What was he...? A shift. Emma gasped again, finding her legs leaving ground entirely. They moved to wrap about him, not finding any other course of action. The splayed starlet's pale flesh dug against him, trying to hold onto his bucking body. She could feel the pink frills shifting, fluttering, the adornment making the whole scene that much more lewd.

Lewd. Emma felt the word sink into her brain, gripping onto the pleasure centers. She gasped as another burst of white hot pleasure lanced into her, tightening her body. Inner walls clamped, squeezed, milked the massive tool within her. She felt it responding, squirting something wet and warm deep inside her. The girl gasped, her body arched, her head shaking rapidly. the movements became stalled by a kiss, just as...

"And cut! That's perfect!" the director insisted, waving hands and calling the scene.

Dreaded words.

It almost pained him to hear them. In fact, it did, as it took every iota of strength he had in him to crush his cock into a halt. The squeeze and accepting warmth of her womb and its vice grip almost didn't let him go. She could read it on his face as his forehead pressed to her own with the pressure of him trying to stop. His nails dug into her thighs as he tried to force himself to quit thrusting, to not let wave after wave of cum suddenly pump and spill inside her. Surely, if he did that, they'd fire him.

She saw the strain on his face, and she'd have to sit upon his cock a moment longer as its entirety pulsed and twitched in sexual frustration, and the man did everything he could to hold back the spill of his cum into her. Sweat had built up across his body and forehead, a light drip of it, nothing much. Yet finally, through strength of will that likely helped land him his job, he took a large gasp of air and calmed himself, his cock seizing its twitching without anything more than harmless precum having been spilled inside her.

He'd take a second to catch his breath then, a small smile escaping him in the process as a hand raised to brush one of her hairs behind her ear since it fell from the heat and movement. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Watson." The smiled made its full form visible now, before his hands would slowly begin to lower her legs simultaneously as he withdrew inch after inch of his cock from her. Slowly so it wouldn't hurt her. It would finally plop out with that very sound, and he'd turn to a woman waiting to attend him with a towel to cover him up once more as he waited for further instructions from the crew.

Emma didn't know whether to sigh in relief or whimper in frustration at the call to cease. Her throbbing sex ached, ached from fullness, ached from the pounding and stretching it had just received, ached for that true crest of pleasure. The starlet's head swam, her mind simply not quite believing that they'd actually done what they'd just done. She sucked in several more breaths, her still covered chest quivering. Andrew was not the only one who needed moments to gather himself.

Brown eyes settled on him once more, seeing the frustration there. Emma knew that it had to be quite uncomfortable for him, stopping like this. Still, she hadn't exactly wanted him to cum inside her. Then again, she hadn't really wanted that at all. Technically speaking, this man had just raped her. At the same time, Emma had signed up and agreed to act in this film, and she hadn't exactly been denying him.

A gulp, and Emma felt the fullness recede. she shivered, taking a sucking breath of her own. That had been... an experience. She saw his smile and gave him an awkward expression, somewhere between apologetic, pained, and disappointed. She felt him lower, then watched his massive cock withdraw. Emma stared at the shiny thing, realizing why it glistened. A towel came while the director spoke: obviously they'd need at least something of a break, people rushing to right things, to prepare other scenes. They weren't the only two in the film, after all.

People started milling, leaving Emma and Andrew mostly untended, save for handing towels. Emma glanced at the tent at Andrew's, and she had a sudden urge. She closed the distance, leaning up to whisper to him: "I believe that we're done for the day. If you'd like to head somewhere private, I'd be willing to finish you off," she gave his cock a fleeting pat, hoping to show him what she meant. It was just cruel to leave him like this, after all, and Emma couldn't help but feel some affection, at least enough to jerk his cock until it released.

This was bitter sweet. It was one of the most pleasurable things he'd ever experienced, ending with the most frustrating. It was nothing short of a man-made miracle that he managed to stop without cumming, and the effects showed. The tent beneath the towel was obvious, a pillar hiking up the fabric a few inches forward. The girls who did the make up had swarmed him almost instantly until they had to be called away. One giving him water, the other tightening the hold of the towel around him as an excuse to brush her arm with his cock. He couldn't blame them. They were all likely wet by what they saw.

Hell, half the cast and crew either had an erection or had gotten wet watching Emma Watson raped against a pillar, and loving it. What he didn't expect, was for Emma to approach him once more. The pat on his cock was a surprise too, but she'd leaned in to whisper her intents. She was a compassionate one, but to a man who technically just raped her? He must have hit the right buttons, if she found herself so drawn to him once more, aching to ease his...predicament.

He'd lean in to keep his words whispers all the same. The girls around him had gone now, to attend to other actors. "That's...thoughtful. Unexpected, but I will not be turning the offer down. You've caused me quite the problem down there." He smirked, before grabbing her by the hand and walking off and away from the set as others prepared to film. He knew she had a trailer here, but it was a little too far. What wasn't, was the employee bathroom in the hallway across from them.

Quickly, he opened the single stall all-gender bathroom's door and pulled them both in. It was slightly large to accommodate handicap, and locked behind them. So he did just that, before grabbing his towel and tossing it away without much regard for where it landed. His cock was still slick and wet from her-- and he knew he got her rather close to releasing all over him all the same, which is why he didn't waste much time before familiar fingers suddenly slid past her lace panties and into her cunt again, mimicking the thrust of his cock earlier on a smaller scale.

"And perhaps you'd like me to return the thoughtful favor?"