Cherry stood in front of them with a clipboard and a giant grin.
"All right, lovers. Scene 5: **'Slow Morning Heat.'** You're playing yourselves. No characters. No roles. Just… wake up together. Naked. Natural. Nuanced."
Noa blinked. "Wait, we're playing *ourselves*?"
Cherry nodded. "Audiences are obsessed with you two. They don't want porn—they want truth. So give it to them. Sensually. Honestly. And yes, still with nipples."
Ren raised a hand. "What's the safe word?"
Cherry winked. "There isn't one. There's only eye contact and sweat."
---
The set was a fake bedroom, but somehow it felt real.
White sheets. Sunlight filter. One bed. One camera. No director on set—just remote control.
Wardrobe: None.
Ren lay under the blanket, shirtless, fingers clenching the edge.
Noa stood beside the bed in a silk robe, frozen.
Their eyes met.
"You okay?" Ren asked.
She nodded. "You?"
"I'm scared I'll get hard just from the *tension*."
She smirked. "You already are."
He looked down. "...Goddammit."
---
She slid under the blanket beside him, heart thudding.
The camera light turned red.
Recording.
They didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just stared.
Then slowly… she reached out, touching his cheek. Warm. Real.
He leaned in. Touched her hip. She gasped.
No dialogue. Only breath.
Their mouths met—soft. Then deeper.
It was supposed to be a scene.
But nothing about it felt scripted.
---
Ren rolled slightly on top of her, kissing down her neck, hands trailing down her thigh.
Noa's robe slipped open.
She didn't pull it closed.
He saw everything. And didn't flinch.
He whispered, "Tell me if I should stop."
She whispered back, "Tell me if you mean any of this."
He paused.
Looked in her eyes.
"I mean *every second.*"
And that was it.
She pulled him in.
---
Camera still rolling.
Blanket rustling.
Skin on skin.
Every moan real. Every gasp unplanned.
They moved like they'd been doing this for years—but were still learning each other's hearts.
No fake dirty talk.
Just stupid, soft honesty.
Like:
"You're breathing so loud."
"You're squeezing my ass."
"I think I love your nose."
"Shut up."
---
Afterward, they lay tangled, sheets around their legs, hair a mess.
Neither spoke.
The red recording light finally clicked off.
And silence filled the room.
Until Noa whispered, "I think we just made love in a porno set."
Ren stared at the ceiling. "We might have invented *art porn*."
She turned to him, serious. "Do you regret it?"
He turned back. "Only that we didn't do it sooner."
She smiled.
But then her phone vibrated.
A text from Cherry:
> **"Scene 5 raw footage: editors crying. Viewers calling it 'soul sex.' Congrats. You're now trending on six adult forums and one poetry subreddit."**
Noa turned the screen to Ren.
They both screamed into the pillow.
---
That night, Noa sat on the balcony in a robe, staring at the neon lights of Vegas.
Ren joined her, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.
"I still can't tell if we're dating," he said.
She took a sip. "We did just cuddle-naked on film."
"Yeah, but you didn't fart. So it wasn't *real* real."
She nudged him. "You're a disaster."
"You love it."
Pause.
"I think I might," she said.
He froze.
Then smiled.
"Wanna test that theory? Off-camera?"
She stood up, took his hand, and said,
"No script this time."
They disappeared back inside.
And this time, the cameras stayed off.