Backstage Romance Ch. 01

"Be right back." I needed the excuse to get my head back together. Kelly had caught me blatantly checking our lead actor out, and we both knew it. What's worse, he had caught me out, too. Careless, I was getting way too careless.

As I barreled through the stage door, head down, I ran smack into someone. Coke spilled everywhere, all down my front, puddling around my shoes. I heard his sudden exclamation, felt his warm breath on my cheek, and found his arms around me as we both swayed and tried to catch our balance. I looked up, but I hadn't really needed to. It was Williams, of course, and I found myself exactly where I'd been trying desperately not to imagine myself the entire past week.

He recovered first; I was too panic-stricken that he'd notice my raging hard-on. "God, Daniel, I'm so sorry! I was headed for the dressing room and wasn't looking where I was going. Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He reached out and turned my face toward him. I'd gotten into the habit of keeping my eyes averted when he was looking at me. I was too afraid he would be able to see the blatant lust in them. "Please tell me you're all right. You're so quiet it scares me sometimes."

My heart pounded in my chest. Did he have a clue what the sight and smell and feel of him so close was doing to me? I stared into those blazing blue eyes, so full of sincerity and concern for a moment, for an eternity. Then I caught my breath and stepped back, ducking my head again. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. It's my fault, really, I wasn't paying attention either. Thanks for catching me," I mumbled, and fled.

I brought Kelly her drink, and hissed, "Stupid accident backstage. I've gotta go home and shower and change. Meet me there in an hour?" She nodded, obviously suppressing laughter at my sodden appearance.

As I left the theater, I heard the unmistakable opening chords of "Thriller" starting up. Under any other circumstances, nothing would have torn me away from seeing what kind of tribute Scott had worked up for the King of Pop. As it was, I beat a hasty and humiliated retreat, hard as a rock inside my damp, sticky khakis.

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* Jeff *

It was the first real look I'd gotten into Daniel's hazel eyes since the first rehearsal, and it took my breath away. Why the hell did he insist on keep them hidden behind that hair? There was a burning intensity there that looked nothing like the meek, responsible, self-effacing Daniel I had seen each day for the last week. There was need there, and anger, and misery. I felt the sudden desire to hold him close, to soothe away all that turbulent emotion, to let him know it was all right, that he wasn't alone.

He pulled his head away from my hand and looked away. I hadn't even realized what I was doing when I reached out to him. No wonder he was upset. That was an unpardonably intimate thing to do. This was someone I barely knew, someone who clearly had issues about privacy and personal space. Well, that and being trampled by a stampeding actor. I cleared my throat to apologize, but he was already gone.

I couldn't even remember what I had said to him. Had I made things even worse by saying something boneheadedly insensitive? Wouldn't be the first time, Williams.

I could still imagine the feel of his chin in my hand, the soft skin and light stubble cupped in my palm. I entertained a brief fantasy of kissing those full lips, running my fingers through his hair. And either I'm a complete idiot or way better at self-deception than I ever thought, because I swear it wasn't until that exact moment that I realized I was completely smitten with Daniel Lewis. In hindsight, I guess the boner trying to sneak its way out of those stupid tennis shorts of mine was kind of a giveaway too. Oh, God, had he seen that? Felt it?

I needed a drink. Six years of self-sufficiency, neither wanting nor feeling the need for a relationship or even casual sex, and I just got weak in the knees from simply bumping into a stagehand. One who now probably thought I was trying to molest him. Shit. I was going to have to be extra careful around Daniel Lewis. Trouble was, after holding him in my arms just those few seconds, careful was the last thing I wanted to be.

I went out with the rest of the cast as planned, and managed to enjoy myself, but my mind kept skittering away to focus on my sudden backstage revelation. After I had dragged myself back from a pleasantly erotic fantasy and apologized to the company for drifting off—for the third or fourth time—I could feel Scott's eyes on me. As we were saying our good-nights, he pulled me aside. "Hey, everything okay, Jeff?"

I lied through my teeth. "Fine, Scott, no problem. Just a little tired, I guess. Or maybe I had one too many drinks at the bar. I just keep spacing out tonight. Sorry if I haven't been the best company."

"You're sure?" He looked at me uncertainly, half smiling. That smile boded ill; there was mischief behind it, but he didn't pursue the matter. "Well, be careful driving home. We don't want to lose our leading man to a car accident!" I assured him I would stay five miles per hour below the speed limit all the way, and wished him a good night and a happy Halloween. Knowing him, he was probably going out trick-or-treating and toilet papering houses with the rest of the kiddies.

That night in bed I lay idly stroking my cock and imagining Daniel's face, his eyes beneath their long lashes, the sweep of his hair across his forehead. Then I imagined him going down on me, and started stroking in earnest. Those lips of his were as ripe for giving a blowjob as they were for kissing. I felt ashamed using him as a wank fantasy, he deserved so much better, but I was already too far into this to stop. How long had I been hiding my interest from myself? Dream-Daniel was straddling me now, his chestnut hair falling across his face as he rode me harder, faster. My balls tightened painfully and I cried out his name, sending shot after shot of cum across my stomach and chest.

When I managed to get my eyes uncrossed, and my breathing back to normal, I groaned. It had been a good fantasy, and the best orgasm I'd experienced in a long time, but in the end, where was I? Alone in my bed, just like every other night, with semen cooling on my belly. Daniel was somewhere halfway across the city, probably laughing with Kelly right now about what a clumsy oaf I was, and clueless to the sudden passion I felt for him. My king-size bed had never felt so large and so empty before, not even in the dark days after things ended with Timothy.

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* Daniel *

I couldn't think of anything but Williams all the way home. I kept reliving that moment when he held me in his arms, when he took my face in his hands and we looked into each other's eyes. The image was corn personified, but to me it was hot as hell. I burst into my apartment, stripped off my Coke-sticky clothes, grabbed the lube from the bedside table, and stumbled to the shower. I had to get off now, or I was going to head right back to the theater and jump the guy.

As I fisted my cock, new visions flashed across my mind. Visions of kissing Jeff, of feeling his skin next to mine, seeing his blue eyes lose focus from lust, like the lust that had me panting right now. I imagined taking the length of him into my mouth, into my ass.

I lubed up my left forefinger and started teasing my crack. I hadn't done this in months, but right now I was so horned up there was almost no resistance as it slipped inside me. My strokes sped up. More, I needed more. Another finger. I was hunched down on the shower floor, moaning with the need to get off. I pushed at my sphincter muscle, straining my wrist trying to tap that one spot that would give me the release I needed more than anything else. I was like an animal in heat. I thought of Williams pounding into me, filling me. My searching fingers finally found my trigger, and everything disappeared in a blaze of light as I shot all over both the shower wall and myself.

I lay sobbing there in the dark for a long time before I could climb to my knees under the shower's spray and clean myself up.