Bacstage Tensions

The hot dressing room lights beat against my skin, and sweat begins to run down my forehead, making its way past my blue eyes and heading for my chest. I look in the mirror, between the blinding lights, and see that the top button of my costume has come undone. Sighing, I re-button my shirt before exiting the dressing room and heading for the stage.

The hallways are busier than usual. Tomorrow the audience will be just as busy as backstage, with hundreds of patents waiting excitedly to see our production of Cinderella. For now, however, the only sounds I can hear are the screams of actors and techies alike, making sure everyone is where they need to be for the big Act One Finale.

As the Prince, it's my job to make sure that the audience can see exactly why Cinderella falls in love with me. So, as I make my way to the stage for the ballroom number, I amp up the charisma and flash smiles to the stage hands that I pass in the wings.

I stroll onstage, taking my Cinderella in my arms. As I begin to sing the first lines, I notice that the piano in the orchestra is a few measures ahead of me. The orchestra tries to compensate for his misplaced chords, but it throws the entire number off. I do my best to keep up with the jumping around in the score, but ultimately I give up. I huff offstage, nearly in tears. It's my big number, and somehow our pianist has managed to fuck it all up.

***

Sarah, our Cinderella, finds me in the hallway where I'm leaning against a wall. She leans up next to me and puts her head on my shoulder before sighing. "You know what they say. The worse the dress run, the better the opening night."

"I know," I respond wearily. Then, slightly more agitatedly, "I just don't understand how Peter can nail every single number in the show, but somehow mine is the one he screws up."

"You're right. It's shitty, and I'm sorry. Maybe have a word with him?" She suggests sweetly, the melodic tones in her voice doing all they can to put me at ease.

"I don't know. It's not my place, I guess. The director should do it," I retort, the bitterness now clearly discernible in my voice.

"C'mon," Sarah pleads. "You're Hayden fucking Robinson! You're like the biggest name in Johnson County community theatre, and he should know better."

"You're right," I concede, now determined. "I'll be back before the top of Act Two," I add, as I make my way down to the orchestra pit.

***

I find Peter alone in the orchestra pit, eating his lunch at the piano. "Where's everyone else?" I ask, confused as to why they would have left him there alone.

"Josh got mad that I screwed up your number, so they all went to get burgers without me. Glad I brought this salad I guess," he shoots back.

"Well he's not the only one who's upset you fucked up my number," I say snarkily. "What the hell was that about anyways?"

"I'm sorry, Hayden, I was just really distracted," he says, suddenly losing the edge that had been present in his voice only moments before.

"What could possibly be so distracting that you literally forgot how to do your job properly?" I demand, getting angrier by the minute. I don't want to hear his excuses; I want to hear him apologize.

He offers nothing but an under-the-breath murmur in response, glancing at his shoes and kicking the piano just hard enough so that it's audible.

"What was that?" I ask, now fuming? My question is met with silence. "What the fuck happened during my number, Peter?" I'm practically shouting now, thinking of how humiliated I felt when the number went south.

"You!" He shouts all of a sudden, taking me half by surprise. "You happened, okay! You waltzed onstage and you looked so handsome in your costume and I didn't know what to do and I kind of just froze up and overestimated how much of the music I had spent staring at you and so when I tried to jump back in it just made everything worse! I'm sorry!" He's on the brink of tears now, and I can tell that he's genuinely embarrassed

"Shit, Peter," I say. "I had no idea you felt that way. I guess I never even considered it."

As I say that, I give him a glance-over, and it was hard to fathom how I hadn't. He was 6'1", fairly well-built, with jet black hair and chocolate brown puppy-dog eyes that could melt someone's heart in an instant. His arms and hands were nicely toned from years of stroking the piano keys, but he moved them with a grace and delicacy that bordered on ridiculous. And, looking at him now, I'm beginning to consider it.

I take a seat next to him on the piano bench and place my hand on his knee. "Hey, don't worry about it. I get it. We all get distracted and we all make mistakes. I'm sorry I came down so hard on you," I say, taking every precaution to dissipate the anger I had been feeling only moments ago. "Honestly, it's fine. It just means we'll have a brilliant opening tomorrow night," I chuckle.

"You're- you're not mad?" He asks, clearly taken aback by my sudden shift in attitude.

"No, I'm not. And anyways, I can think of some ways you can make it up to me," I say, dropping my voice into a slightly more sultry tone, as I begin to rub my thumb over his knee.

"Holy shit," is the only response I get. I take it as a positive sign, so I lift his head with the hand that isn't playing at his thigh. Looking deep into those chocolate brown eyes, I whisper, "tell me you want it."

"I want it," comes the slightly choked reply. At this, I take his face in both hands and pull his lips to mine, kissing him passionately. It starts off sweet, if a little forceful, but my tongue quickly finds his way into his mouth, and our tongues quickly find themselves wrapped around each other, like lovers between the sheets.

Slowly, my hand makes its way from Peter's face to the bottom of his grey t-shirt, stopping every few seconds to appreciate his form. When it reaches the end, I slip my hand under his shirt and place it gently on his stomach. "Is this okay?" I ask, breathing intensely into his ear.

"More than okay," he whispers back. Whatever timidness or apprehension was holding him back before seems to have disappeared, completely. And just then, as if he's read read my mind, his own hand finds itself slipping under the back of my costume and landing firmly on the small of my back. He lets his hand wander up and down my back under my shirt, sending shivers down my spine.

Eventually, he takes his hand back and repurposes it to slowly open my shirt, one button at a time. As he does this, he kisses my neck, biting and licking me sensually. I use one hand to steady myself by grasping at the piano bench, placing the other on Peter's head and tugging ever so lightly at his hair.

Finally, my shirt is completely open, and Peter begins kissing his way down my chest, moving off the piano bench and kneeling down between my legs. On the way, he stops to pay attention to each of my nipples, sucking and biting at them until they were hard between his lips and teeth. He reaches my navel and kisses it sweetly, before looking up at me. When he does, I can see those big brown eyes, and I feel my heart start thumping. Not necessarily a romantic thumping, but certainly a passionate, excited one.

"May I?" Is all he asks, but I know what he means. I swallow down the excitement and arousal that has housed itself in my throat, and nod. Peter carefully unzips my slacks, and his face lights up at the sight of my throbbing erection in my green and red American Eagle underwear. His right hand wraps around my dick, apparently sizing me up, and my heart skips another beat. Then, hooking his hands into the sides of my underwear, he pulls them down slowly, kissing the space between my cock and my thighs.

He takes my cock in his right hand once again, this time nothing separating the his touch from my skin. He moves my foreskin up and down a few times, pumping purposefully and assuredly. Before I can even moan his name, which I do, I feel his lips wrap around me, and his tongue starts darting up and down my shaft. He increases his pace, and I can see his head bobbing up and down between my legs. He lets out an audible moan as he takes my cock in its entirety, and holy hell does it feel good.

I can feel myself getting too close too fast, so I grab his face and pull it up to mine, kissing him deeply. I can taste my own dick, but it doesn't bother me. I'm too caught up in the moment. Too entranced. Satisfied that I've stopped myself from cumming too quickly, I push him back down, forcing him to take it all again without really warning him. I hear him choke just a little bit, and he lets out the hottest, most desperate moan I have ever heard in my life.

He keeps working my cock for a few more minutes, looking up at me occasionally while licking me up and down. Finally, it's more than I can take, and I shout out, "I'm gonna come!". I expect him to pull off and let me cum over my own chest, but instead he takes me as deep as he can, and I end up shooting my load all over the back of his throat.

Peter looks up at me with a hungry grin as he gulps down my warm seed. "You taste amazing," he says coyly, before licking up the rest of the cum that's dripping down my dick. He stands up, now towering over where I'm sitting on the piano bench, and kisses me deeply. Without a second thought, I push him onto the piano, causing a cacophonous combination of keys to play as his ass connects with it.

"My turn," I say, with palpable hunger in my voice. I drop to my knees, not even wasting time with his shirt. I unzip his jeans and pull his brown belt off of him as fast as I possibly can. Underneath, I find plain lilac underwear that's already showing a damp spot where Peter's precum has leaked out. I pull the them down, revealing a beautiful, seven and a half inch cock. Unlike me, he's cut, and I start drooling before I can even get my lips around it.

I eventually do manage to break my trance, and take his cock in my mouth, swirling the head around with my tongue. I feel his hands on my head, pushing me down, so I try to take it all at once, but it proves to be too much for me on my first go, and I end up gagging. "Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I've never taken one this big before."

"Take your time," he responds. "It feels amazing either way." With those words of encouragement ringing in my ear, I take a second shot and deep throating his beautiful cock. This time I make it, and I can feel the head in the back of my mouth. Peter lets out a heavenly moan, and I begin to bob up and down on his cock with all the enthusiasm of a performer on opening night.

As I keep sucking and playing with his cock, he begins to scratch my back. I know that his fingernails will leave red marks, and that my costars will see them in the dressing room later, but I don't care. In that moment, all I wanted was to taste his cum in my mouth, consequences be damned.

Just then, we hear voices in the theatre above. It's Josh and the other pit players, back from lunch. We both freeze, and I look up at Peter with a combination of fear and excitement sparkling in my eyes.

"Well hurry up, then," is all he says, but it's all I need to hear. I take him as far as I can, working my mouth around that beautiful cock once again. I feel it tense in my mouth, and before I can prepare myself, I feel his warm cum in my mouth, shooting to the back of my throat and catching on the root of my tongue. It's salty, and not the best I've ever tasted, but we don't exactly have any time to spare for cleanup, so I swallow it faithfully.

"Good boy," I hear above me. I look up, and Peter is looking down at me expectantly. He pulls me to my feet and tosses me my shirt. "Get dressed before they get here."

I throw my costume back on as quickly as I can, and I'm finishing the last button when Josh and the pit players walk in. Peter and I are simply sitting on the piano bench, chatting as Peter munches away on his salad.

"Anyways," I say, "thanks for explaining. I'm not worried about the number; I'm sure it will be brilliant at opening night tomorrow!"

Peter looks at me for a second, then smiles. "Me, too, Hayden. Break a leg in the second act!"

We hug, and I whisper an inaudible dirty comment in his ear. He chuckles. I stand up and turn to Josh, extending my hand. "Wonderful work tonight! I'm sure the second act will be even better."

Josh shakes my hand, clearly not knowing that only minutes before it was helping me bring his star pianist to a climax. "Thank you, Hayden. Brilliant performance yourself. I apologize for Peter's mistake earlier. I take full responsibility."

"Don't worry," I shoot back, only slightly too quickly. "We, uh, worked it out," I chuckle. And with that, I head for the door. I stop briefly with my hand on the handle to turn and throw Peter a quick wink, but he's buried himself in his sheet music. I can still see his bright red face, and I leave wondering what expressions that face would make lying down underneath me.

Maybe next rehearsal.