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My face is burning, there’s no way I can hide it. I don’t want to look at Sully and make things worse, so that means I have to keep staring at the screen.
Roman Reese throws the girl down on a pile of furs, revealing a full-frontal shot of his erect “war hammer.” The theater erupts in deafening cheers. Reese is grinning. Sully says, low and furious, “I’m going to kill you.”
I’m staring with all my might, storing away every millisecond.
I don’t care if it’s wrong.
In fact, it’s definitely wrong, but I don’t give a damn. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m not missing a moment of it.
Roman Reese ravages the priestess to the sound of pounding drums. It’s the most gloriously graphic sex scene I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing, as if HBO and the director made a deal for the benefit of all heterosexual womankind.
The director must have had a crush on Reese or a vendetta against Sully because I’ve never seen so many lingering shots of sweat-drenched pecs and thrusting buttocks. It seems to go on for an hour, and yet, I never want it to stop.
Even the noises the priestess makes sound perversely like my own. It’s brain-bending, the jumbled shots of dark hair, pale thighs, hungry lips, and clutching hands. All uncannily familiar, as if the fever dreams that grip me each night have been plucked from my head and broadcast across the movie screen.
Sully sits in painful discomfort next to me. I can only imagine what he’s feeling as an entire theater of people ogle what is essentiallyhisnaked body on-screen.
I feel awful for him, but apparently that’s not enough to stop me from also being extremely turned on.
And I don’t mean just a little bit.
I am red-faced, squirming, knees together, hoping I don’t soak the seat in a theater full of people with my fake boyfriend and his brother sitting on either side of me.
So yeah, it’s bad. And it’s not getting better.
Roman Reese is putting on a clinic. He’s having sex in ways I didn’t even know people could have sex.
Sully has settled into a kind of sullen endurance where he stares expressionlessly at the screen as if time has no meaning.
I’m indulging a fantasy where, eventually, Sully forgets that any of this ever happened and dresses up like a Roman for Halloween. Or maybe just borrows that loincloth from Reese…
Finally, it’s over. The scene cuts to the Roman leader, and presumably the priestess is allowed to get some sleep.
Reese turns to us, grinning.
“Pretty cool, huh? That actress’ name is Maddy. She’s thinking of opening a smoothie shop.”
“That’s great,” Sully says through gritted teeth. “You’ll have something to eat through a straw after I break your jaw.”
“You look mad,” Reese observes. “You kind of sound mad, too.”
“Bingo,” Sully hisses. “Two for two.”
It’s very lucky for Reese that there are about four hundred witnesses in the theater, and he’s safe on the other side of me. He shrinks back in his seat, looking distinctly nervous.
“I told you it was for HBO?—”
“You didn’t tell me you were going to showour dickto the western hemisphere?—”
“Shh!” someone says.
Sully throws a glare over his shoulder that kills the possibility of any furthershushes.Or, probably, of that person pooping for the next three days.
I feel bad for him, I really do.
But also, when this episode is up for streaming…
I’m going to watch that scene a hundred times.
