Eternian Nights with Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin

[TheLW]

Eternian Nights
With Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin
Written by TheLW
Codes: MFF, Blowjob, Oral
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

The soundstage lights had finally dimmed to a low, eerie blue glow, the kind that made Castle Grayskull look like it was breathing. It was past midnight on a Thursday, and the Masters of the Universe set at Pinewood felt abandoned except for the faint hum of dying fluorescents and the distant clank of someone, me, coiling the last of the overhead rigging cables.

I'd been on this production for four months, hauling truss, focusing Fresnels, dodging PAs who thought "grip" meant "go-fer." The crew called me "Sparks" because I handled the electricity, but mostly I just kept my head down. Until tonight.

Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin had wrapped their big mother-daughter scene an hour earlier, Teela confronting the Sorceress in the throne room. Camila, 31, played Teela with that fierce, compact energy, 5'2" of toned muscle from fight training, dark hair still in half-braids, sweat making her olive skin shine under the practicals. Her Teela costume, leather corset laced tight over a cropped top, armored skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, clung to her like it was painted on.

Morena, 46, was something else entirely. The Sorceress gown flowed white and ethereal, but the fabric was thin enough that every shift revealed the outline of full breasts, hips that swayed with decades of confidence, long legs carrying her 5'7½" frame like she owned the gravity in the room. Brazilian to the core, both of them, Camila with that fiery, youthful edge from her Riverdale days, Morena with the sultry maturity that had made her unforgettable in everything from Firefly to Deadpool.

They'd lingered after "cut," laughing in Portuguese while the director gave notes. I'd caught Camila's eye once, a quick, teasing look toward me as I adjusted a key light. Morena had smiled slower, almost appraising. I told myself it was nothing. Famous people being polite to the crew.

Then the stage cleared. Director Travis Knight left with his entourage. PAs vanished. Even the crafty table was deserted. I stayed to finish derigging the overheads, safety first, always. That's when I heard the sounds of heels on concrete.

Camila emerged from behind the throne prop first. She'd shed the armored pauldrons but kept the corset and skirt, the leather creaking softly as she walked. "Still here, Sparks?" Her voice carried that slight lilt, Brazilian roots mixed with American polish.

Morena followed, the Sorceress gown now open at the front like a robe, revealing a black lace bralette and matching thong beneath. The white fabric framed her like moonlight on skin. "We were hoping you'd stick around," she said, accent thicker, warmer. "The set feels... empty without someone strong to hold things up.”

My heart slammed against my chest. "Ladies, if this is about extra lighting for reshoots...”

Camila laughed, low and throaty. She closed the distance in three strides, a small hand pressing flat against my chest. "No reshoots tonight." Her fingers curled into my shirt. "Just us. Unwinding.”

Morena stepped in from the side. She traced a nail down my arm. "We've seen you watching us all week. She leaned close, lips brushing my ear. "Brasileiras like a man who can keep up.”

I swallowed hard. "This is insane. Security...”

"Security left at eleven," Camila cut in. She tugged me backward toward the massive padded throne prop, built oversized for dramatic shots, easily big enough for three. "We told them we'd lock up ourselves.”

Morena's hand slid lower, palming me through my jeans. I was already half-hard from the proximity. "Relax," she said. "Let us show you how we celebrate a good day's work.”

They pushed me down onto the throne. The velvet upholstery was still warm from earlier lights. Camila straddled my lap immediately, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of my hips. Her weight was perfect, light but solid, thighs flexing as she ground down once. The leather of her skirt rode up, exposing smooth, toned skin. She wore nothing underneath, I felt the heat of her bare against the rough denim.

She kissed like she’d been waiting her whole life to taste me, lips soft but consuming, tongue plunging in with practiced arrogance. I opened up out of shock, then hunger, heat spiking as her body ground hard against mine. My hands shot to her waist, sliding up to where her ribs flared under the leather, thumbs tracing the rim of her breasts. Camila moaned into my mouth, tilting her hips to make sure I felt just how wet she was, and for a second I almost came in my jeans from the surprise, her, in control, but also on fire.

Morena knelt between my spread legs. Her fingers worked my belt open with practiced ease, zipper coming down. "Olha isso," she whispered to Camila in Portuguese, voice husky. "Look at this. Already so ready for us."

She freed me, cool air hitting hot skin. Her hand wrapped around the base, firm, confident, stroking once, twice, thumb circling the head to spread the bead of pre-cum. Then her mouth descended. Warm, wet velvet. Tongue flat against the underside as she took me deep, cheeks hollowing. No teasing; she sucked with purpose, head bobbing in a slow, rhythmic glide that matched the samba sway of her shoulders.

Camila broke the kiss to watch. "Deus," she breathed. She reached down, fingers joining Morena's, stroking what Morena's mouth couldn't reach. Then she leaned forward, kissing Morena around me, their tongues meeting in a slick, obscene slide over the head of my cock. I groaned, hips jerking up involuntarily.

Camila pulled back, her gaze intense. "Your turn to taste." She shifted upward, guiding my hands to her costume's intricate fastenings. I yanked them loose, the leather parted, revealing her firm breasts. She arched forward, offering herself. I sucked greedily, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. Her hips rolled faster against my thigh now, leaving evidence of her arousal on the denim of my work pants.

Morena released me from her mouth, a glistening thread momentarily bridging the gap between us. "Switch," she said simply.

They traded places fluidly. Morena straddled me now, gown falling open completely. Naked beneath except for the lace thong, which she pushed aside. Her figure was magnificent, more generous, more commanding than her co-star's, with dusky aureoles contrasting against her sun-blessed complexion. She sank down slowly, inch by inch, until I was buried to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. She was soaked, the slide was effortless, but the grip was vise-like.

"Caralho," she hissed, head falling back. "So full."

Morena started riding, tentative at first, her body hips finding a mesmerizing cadence Brazilian rhythm, ass rising and falling like waves. Each downward thrust slapped skin on skin, echoing in the empty stage. Her hands braced on my shoulders, nails digging in. I matched her movements from below, feeling her respond with an intimate tightening each time we fully connected.

Camila positioned herself at the nexus of our bodies. She kissed Morena deeply, open-mouthed, tongues tangling. One hand traced delicate circles between Morena's thighs while the other reached lower, cupping my balls, rolling them gently as Morena rode. As Morena continued her rhythm above, Camila's attention drifted downward, her tongue exploring the place where our bodies connected, alternating between teasing Morena's sensitive flesh and tracing the length of me as I pistoned in and out.

The sensation was overwhelming, caught between Morena's embrace and Camila's fervent attention, their pleasure becoming mine as we moved together. Morena spoke in rapid Portuguese between gasps, "Mais forte... assim... porra, que delícia", urging harder, faster.

I gripped Morena's hips, slamming up into her. She moaned out in pleasure, body shuddering as her first orgasm hit, her inner walls fluttering, milking me. She ground down hard, riding through it, juices coating us both.

Camila drew away, a hungry smile playing on her wet mouth. "I need you now," she whispered.

Morena eased herself up, our bodies parting with a soft, slick sound. Camila moved into position, this time looking down at me as she lowered herself. Being smaller-framed, she tensed as she took me in. "Fuck," she gasped, eyes fluttering closed. "I can feel every inch of you."

She rode differently, sharper, more athletic. Hips snapping forward and back, grinding herself against me with each downstroke. As her chest swayed with her movements, I leaned up to taste her skin, my fingers finding where our bodies met to intensify her pleasure with gentle, focused attention.

Morena moved behind Camila, her body flush against Camila's spine. Her hands found their way forward, pinching Camila's nipples, twisting them. Then lower, one hand joining mine at Camila's clit, the other sliding between us to tease where I entered her. Morena kissed Camila's neck, biting softly, whispering encouragement in Portuguese.

The release claimed Camila suddenly, her muscles tensing, legs quivering against my sides, her voice breaking into a sound that filled the space above us. The intensity of her pleasure nearly undid me as she tightened around me, but I steadied my breath and maintained control.

They weren't done.

Morena guided Camila off me, then pushed her gently onto all fours on the throne cushion. "On your knees, querida," Morena said. Camila obeyed, ass up, back arched. Morena knelt behind her, spreading her cheeks, tongue diving in, lapping at her from behind while Camila moaned into the velvet material.

I stood, cock aching, slick with both of them. Morena looked back over her shoulder. "Come here. Take me while I taste her."

I positioned myself behind Morena. She was on her knees too now, ass presented, gown pooled around her waist. I slid in deep, one long thrust that made her moan into Camila's pussy. The sight was obscene, Morena's tongue between Camila's thighs, giving and receiving in the same moment; and myself, moving with a pace that connected us all, feeling the echo of each thrust ripple forward through Morena's body into Camila's.

We found a rhythm, hard, relentless. Every thrust into Morena pushed her tongue deeper into Camila. Camila reached back, fingers tangling in Morena's hair, holding her there. "Não para... assim... sim!"

I gripped Morena's hips, pounding harder. Her ass jiggled with each impact, skin flushing. She came again, sudden, violent, body spasming, her vaginal walls pulsing around me. The squeeze was too much, I felt the build, unstoppable.

"Where?" I gritted out.

"Inside," Morena gasped. "Fill me up."

Camila twisted to watch, eyes blazing. "Do it. Come in her."

With one final surge forward, I found my limit. Pleasure crashed over me in waves, my entire body tensing as I poured myself into Morena. Her muscles clenched around me rhythmically, drawing out every sensation. Between shuddering breaths, she continued her attentions to Camila, whose second climax arrived like a whisper, intense but quieter than before, leaving her collapsing forward with a sob.

We remained entangled for what felt like forever, our breathing gradually slowing, skin cooling where we touched. Eventually Morena shifted her weight, first leaning to press her lips against Camila's, then turning back to me with the same gentle attention. The evidence of our passion glistened on her inner thighs, Camila traced her fingertips through the wetness, then brought them to her lips with a mischievous glint in her eyes that said everything words couldn't.

"Best wrap party I've ever had," Camila murmured against my neck.

Morena chuckled, tracing patterns on my chest. "And we have night shoots all next week. Plenty more chances to... rehearse."

I laughed, dazed, already stirring again at the thought. The set lights flickered once, like Eternia itself was winking.

By dawn, we'd cleaned up, costumes straightened, the throne wiped down. No one would know. But I carried the memory like a secret power surge, two Brazilian goddesses turning a fantasy set into something far more primal.

And yeah, I volunteered for every late-night call after that.

The End