Backstage Romance Ch. 09

"Did you have a bad Thanksgiving?" I asked. "We didn't even take time to catch up, did we? I should have stuck around until you woke up this morning. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I was just focused on everything I had to take care of before I got to work, and figured I'd let you get your rest."

His head dropped against mine. "No, I'm sorry. I don't know why I freaked out like that. I'm not usually so paranoid."

"I think you're more stressed about this show than you let on."

He shook his head. But I could still feel the muscles clenching in his back, arms and shoulders. What else could I possibly do to help him calm down?

Oh. Well, that was an idea. One I'd never have considered if a certain director hadn't brought it up first.

Damn Scott for a pimp. Was this really what it was going to take? If someone walked in on us I was sure as hell going to make sure everyone knew it was his idea. My groin was already stirring at the thought. Great. Apparently the thought of public and professional humiliation did nothing to faze my body. Oh, the hell with it.

I coaxed Jeff back until he was leaning against the built-in dressing table. "Relax, baby," I urged him. "It'll be okay." Before he could react, I flicked open his belt buckle and reached for the fly button beneath it. He started to protest; I covered his mouth with my hand. "Trust me," I whispered. I replaced my hand with my lips, and got his pants open while he was distracted by the kiss. "You need to relax," I told him again. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Something was certainly fine; he was already tenting his shorts, with a speck of pre-cum oozing through the fabric. I allowed myself a smile at the sight. We'd probably both been fantasizing about a scenario like this ever since we laid eyes on each other. I bent down and nuzzled his dick through the heather gray cotton. He inhaled. "That's right, breathe. Let me take care of you." Jeff's head was thrown back, his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell erratically.

I peeled the waistband of his boxer briefs out and down, letting the head of his penis emerge into the air. I took it into my mouth, nursing it gently but thoroughly with my lips and tongue. Jeff let out a half-laugh, half-groan. Taking that as permission to proceed, I pulled his hips toward me, sliding his pants and underwear down his legs. The muscles in his legs and ass were flexed and taut beneath my hands.

Bit by bit, I took the length of him, letting my jaw stretch to accommodate his girth, relishing the slightly salty tang of his pre-cum on my palate. I reached the base of his dick and nuzzled my nose into his bush, listening to the hitch in this breathing that told me how much he was enjoying this. I withdrew deliberately, massaging the underside of his cock with my tongue, until once again I had just the head between my lips.

"Daniel, sweetheart," he rasped. "That feels so goddamn good, but we shouldn't..."

I let his penis fall from my mouth just long enough to state my defense: "Director's orders. I'm supposed to deliver you relaxed and ready for rehearsal by any means necessary. So just lean back and let me do my job." I was startled to hear the undercurrent of glee in my voice. Was I really that depraved? But by then, I was already attacking him again, this time sliding quickly and smoothly down on his shaft. Jeff's hips bucked, involuntarily trying to seat himself more deeply inside me. I used my body weight to restrain him, while with my left hand I began caressing his balls.

How much time did we have? An hour? Less? I would have loved to make this last indefinitely, but we both had a job to do, and we would need time to eat. I added firm, twisting strokes with my right hand each time I pulled off his dick, increasing my speed and intensity.

Jeff was whispering my name over and over. One of his hands rested on my head, my gentle man, not trying to guide or force me, just one more way of maintaining the connection between us. We were becoming extensions of one another, his cock nearly as much a part of me as my own aching and neglected member. I might have to attend to that before I left this room. Or else it was going to be baggy shirt time.

At last I felt Jeff stiffen as he tried to stifle a shout. Burst after burst of his sperm filled my mouth and slid down my waiting throat, hot sticky essence of my lover. I coaxed him through the last twitching spasms of his climax, not releasing him until I felt his body sag, relieved of its tension. That's my boy. Let it all go.

"Feel any better?"

His eyes closed, still breathing heavily, he nodded. One hand flailed toward me; I caught it and kissed the palm.

I was going to ASM hell.

After waiting to make sure Jeff was decent again, I opened the door to find a white paper bag sitting on the floor of the hallway outside the dressing room. I laughed out loud when I opened it. Inside were sandwiches, chips, fruit, and drinks. Apparently Scott had anticipated that we would be taking a long time and ordered lunch in for us. He wasn't taking any chances with his star.

The walk back to the stage for the afternoon rehearsal filled me with an indescribable blend of triumph, arousal, and shame. Although the conversation among the cast and crew was carefully casual, I felt like every eye in the room was fixed on me, speculating—no doubt with a fair amount of accuracy—as to what had just taken place between us.

I caught Scott's eye, and answered his inquiring arched eyebrow with as carefully blank a face as I could muster. Then, deliberately, with the thumb of one hand, I swiped the corner of my mouth.

Scott had to leave the room for a full five minutes, he was laughing so hard.

But Jeff was magnificent the remainder of the day.

—————

* Jeff *

This may sound unbelievable, but I had never before gotten it on with someone inside a theater. Even before Timothy, I had maintained a careful distinction between my personal and professional lives. And though I already knew Daniel hid a tiger behind his meek demeanor, I would never have dreamed of him doing something as sexually aggressive and audacious as that blowjob. All through Scott's thoughtfully provided lunch, I caught myself staring at my boy in wonder. Even more impressive was his complete composure afterward, in the face of everyone's curiosity, amusement, or, in the case of Mark, glowering irritation.

It turned me on like nobody's business.

That evening we laughed about it as we sat on my sofa and took turns feeding each other forkfuls of Mom's delicious pumpkin pie. Even though Daniel assured me that Kelly and Josh were outstanding cooks, neither of them baked, so his Thanksgiving had lacked what I considered the crowning glory of the traditional meal. I had therefore insisted on treating him to the leftover portion I had brought home with me. In between bites, I teased him with kisses on his nose, cheek, hair and neck.

Finally the pie was gone, and we settled back contentedly, Daniel lying on his back between my spread legs, with his head resting on my chest.

"I can hear your heart beating," he commented.

"It always beats a little harder when you're close to it," I responded. Shameless. Outrageously flirtatious. One hundred percent true. I tousled his hair, gave him a peck on the ear. Do you have any idea what you do to me, Danny Boy?

Daniel was quiet for a while. Then he said, "I had a bad dream while you were away."

"You mentioned that. Do you want to talk about it?"

I could already feel his body tensing up. "No, not really. But I think I should."

I sat up, easing him forward and away from me so that we could look at each other. He picked up a throw pillow and held it in his lap, wrapping his arms around it. My relaxed affection changed to concern as his posture registered. Daniel was seeking protection and comfort—and not from me. I had never experienced jealousy toward a pillow before.

When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled, and carefully unemotional. I'm an actor, I understand the way people speak. This was Daniel's way of keeping some powerful feeling at bay. I was as impressed with his control as I was dismayed by the need for it.

"My dream started out with us up on the roof at the university theater, you remember?"

How could I forget? I nodded encouragingly.

"We were up there enjoying the view and... talking, and then, suddenly, you weren't there anymore and... Brian was."

"Brian?"

"My ex-boyfriend."

I had to consciously remind myself what Kelly had hinted to me, that Daniel's last relationship had ended badly, to keep my immediate sense of betrayal in check.

Daniel had to take a couple of breaths before he resumed his story. "He... attacked me. In the dream. He was yelling at me for cheating on him. I woke up just as he started hitting me."

I heard myself make a soft, incoherent noise of protest.

"Thing is, that's pretty much exactly what he would have done if he were there in real life, too."

Silence. My hands were balled into fists, but I kept my eyes fixed sympathetically and encouragingly on Daniel. There was more to this story. Let it out, babe. Tell me everything.

"My last few boyfriends before you were pretty much a string of disasters," Daniel continued. "Kelly and I used to joke that I had a fatal attraction to users, flakes, and losers, as long as they were charming enough.

"Brian was the most charismatic of them all, and he turned out to bea major user. Like, in every sense of the word. Not only was he a selfish lover, he had substance abuse problems. I figured out the alcohol pretty quickly, but I didn't know about the other drugs... not until it was too late.

"He was a lot like you, superficially. Tall, blond, good looking, talented. He was a singer in a local band; we met at the karaoke bar." I had never been less happy to hear those adjectives applied to me. Why couldn't I have been short, dark, tone-deaf, anything that didn't remind Daniel of this drug addict?

"But he was nothing like you inside. You're kind and genuine with people—with everybody, not just me." He glanced up at me with a small but genuine smile that melted my heart.

"There was no kindness in Brian," he concluded. "Just a whole lot of charm and manipulation. I fell for it. I was an idiot. He had me right where he wanted me."

"You're not an idiot, Daniel," I reassured him. I knew a few things about relationships with charming manipulators.

"I never really thought of myself as..." he paused to swallow. "...abused." I tensed at the word, leaning forward. No, not you, Daniel, please no. "I mean, he wasn't beating me. It was all subtle stuff like shoves or 'love pats' that hurt just a little bit more than they should have. I would wind up with bruises from being pushed into door frames and table edges and such. But it was all stuff that could be laughed off as accidents or roughhousing that got out of hand.

"About three or four months into the relationship Brian started to get really possessive, almost paranoid. I'm guessing the drugs were part of the reason for that, but he hid his habit so well I didn't suspect at the time. All I knew was, when I was around, he stopped showing much interest in me—except when he wanted his dick or his ego stroked—but when I was away from him, when he thought I was spending too much time with other people, he got crazy jealous.

"One night I'd invited him to attend a cast party after a performance. He saw me talking to one of the actors, very nice guy, a friend of Professor Ryan's. Somehow he'd found out I was one of the Professor's students and wanted to chat. Brian saw us and got it into his head that we were flirting with each other. He dragged me out of the party and back to my apartment.

"Once we were back, he laid into me. Told me I was a slut, that I was running around behind his back and looking for sugar daddies. I tried to calm him down and explain that he was imagining things, and he hit me. Hard. I fell over backwards and hit my head on the kitchen counter. I blacked out. That was the last I ever saw of him.

"Mark and Kelly came by the apartment to drop off some stuff I'd left at the theater. They found me lying on the floor, and called an ambulance. I hadn't been out for long; Brian must have left as soon as I got knocked out. He may have kicked me in the side once I was down, or it might have just been the fall, either way, my ribs were badly bruised. Otherwise I was lucky. No broken bones, just a concussion. I was up and functioning again in less than a month."

I lurched off the sofa and stormed around the room, inflated with rage. Never had I felt such absolute hatred for anyone. "Where is he? I'll kill the bastard! With my bare hands!"

"No need. He's already dead." That stopped me cold. I choked on whatever I had been about to say next. Daniel's voice was flat and abnormally calm.

"The police found his car wrapped around a tree. They said tests showed his system was full of booze and cocaine. There's no way to know for sure what really happened, but their best guess was he panicked when he saw I was unconscious and tried to skip town. He probably thought he had killed me. For a while I wished he'd succeeded."

Daniel's mouth snapped shut and he started to hunch further in on himself. "I didn't mean to tell you that," he muttered, rocking back and forth.

I was next to him in a heartbeat, trying to soothe him with my body and voice. "Why would you feel bad about it, Daniel? Why would you possibly feel you needed to be ashamed? You survived an attack that could have killed you, from someone you were close to. Anyone would struggle with depression after something like that. I'm amazed you've managed to recover as quickly as you have. You're amazing, Daniel. Don't you know that?"

He didn't say anything, but leaned into my arms. I pulled him in closer, pressing my cheek against his bowed head. "Did you believe I would think less of you for being that asshole's victim? That I would be disappointed or disgusted? I am disgusted, but with him, Daniel. Not you. Never with you.

"I'll never forgive him for what he did to you. What he could have done. He could have stolen you from me. He could have taken you away from me before I even had a chance to meet you." I could feel tears trickling from my eyes and into his hair. I let them fall.

"He left me," Daniel whispered.

"He'd damn well better have," I growled. "I wish he'd never met you."

"No," Daniel explained. "That night. When I was hurt. I needed help. But he left."

"Shhh," I tried to comfort him. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you, Daniel. I won't. I promise."

We didn't have sex that night. I slept with Daniel held close to me, his head pillowed against my chest, my arms around him, our legs intertwined. I woke the next morning suffused with gratitude to find him still beside me, and determined to do whatever was necessary to keep him there. Always.