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I’ve always been a believer that you never know if someone’s good looking until they speak. It’s expressions, those momentary flashes of thought and emotion, that truly shape a face. Despite being identical, I never thought Sully and Reese looked alike because Reese looks friendly and easygoing, while Sully looks like he’s up to no good.
But Roman Reese is a whole different beast. He doesn’t look easygoing at all. He’s intense and determined. Ruthless, even. With that iron jaw and burning gaze, he’s never more closely resembled his twin.
It’s a little eerie, actually. I stare up at the screen, transfixed.
Reese’s character is part of some raiding party that captures a village. The onslaught is bloody and brutal, much worse than what I usually watch. I can’t handle horror movies, and even the John Wick films make my stomach turn.
I don’t want to offend Reese, however, so I try to look pleasantly interested through the onslaught of broadswords splitting skulls and arms lopped off with axes.
Sully, seeming to notice my hands twisting in my lap, or perhaps the faint sheen of sweat on my upper lip, lays his hand across the back of my neck once more and gently rubs.
It’s like he’s pressing a button that releases all the tension in my body. I close my eyes partway, letting the on-screen blood and screaming blur while waves of pleasure roll down my back.
Now Reese’s character has captured some sort of barbarian priestess. This is better because it means the murdering has stopped. I wouldn’t say it’s all the way to kosher, however, because there’s a definite dub-con vibe in Roman Reese’s tent while he orders the priestess-girl to give him a bath. The bath is imperative; he looks like Carrie after prom night, but I’m guessing he has ulterior motives…
I sneak a glance at Sully, wondering if I’m supposed to be turned on. A bunch of people were getting killed a second ago, but now there’s sexy torchlight, and this is HBO.
Roman Reese looks pretty hot in his loincloth. More hot than I want to admit in this moment.
I am not attracted to Sullivan’s brother. I know that sounds crazy because they’re identical, but trust me…it’s sugar and salt. They’re not the same.
I happen to like salt.
With that intense, hungry look on his face as the priestess strips off her clothes, the man on-screen looks pretty fucking salty. His body is lean, tanned, and muscular…exactly like Sully’s.
The firelight flickers across his chest. His dark eyes watch the priestess. She’s pale, raven haired, freckled…from the right angle, she looks a little bit like me.
I sneak another glance at Sullivan.
He shifts in his seat. There’s something very uncomfortable in the set of his shoulders.
“This is the good part…,” Reese murmurs.
The priestess is sponging down the Centurion, water rolling down the divots between his abdominal muscles. Reese’s abs are ten feet tall right in front of my face. Only they don’t look like Reese’s abs—they look like Sully when he comes out of the gym and goes straight to the kitchen to refill his water bottle, towel around his neck, sweat running down his chest…
Now it’s me shifting in my seat, trying to get comfortable. This theater is hot. Someone should turn on a fan.
I don’t know how much the priestess liked her old job in the pagan temple, but she seems highly invested in her new position. She’s sponging down every last inch of Roman Reese, and she is not hurrying. She runs her cloth down the thick slabs of muscle on his back, pausing at his loincloth.
She gestures, asking if she should remove it.
Yes, yes, get that thing out of here…
Sully clears his throat.
The priestess unties the loincloth and pulls it away, revealing the two round, full, gloriously bronzed globes of Reese’s ass. The crowd hoots and cheers.
I’m taking slow, shallow breaths, trying not to react, trying not to stare, trying not to move a millimeter in my seat.
I can feel Sully next to me, rigid, his hands gripping the seat rests. His breath comes out in short bursts through his nose.
The camera pans down Reese’s body, making a landscape of every swell, every bulge. Reese was working hard in the jungle, and hard work pays off…he looks spectacular.
My brain is having a fiesta. It won’t stop connecting things that shouldn’t be connected.
Reese is an even better actor than I thought, his expressions, his voice, his mannerisms completely altered. He’s notexactlylike Sully but similar enough that when he seizes the priestess and crushes her in a kiss, my heart swoops with the strangest mix of excitement, arousal, and even jealousy…
I know it’s Reese, but I can’t stop seeing Sully. And as he pulls off the girl’s dress, baring a pair of milk-white breasts with pale pink nipples, I can’t help seeing myself. This is exactly how our bodies would look together, naked, entwined…
