The Final Act

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The Final Act Page 7

by Dee, Bonnie


  Tom traced his tongue along the trail of hair that led to the waistband of his jeans. Denny moaned and shifted. He ran a hand through Tom’s curly, black hair, and tugged on it lightly, stopping him from going farther.

  “You don’t have to go down on me. You’re not feeling well. Let me take care of you, instead.”

  He finished stripping Tom quickly, tearing his clothes off like a kid eagerly ripping the wrapping from a present.

  Pulling his lover’s naked body into his arms, he kissed him hard and deep, while they shuffled backward toward the bed. They fell on it together in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Denny pushed Tom flat and nudged his legs apart. Kneeling between them, he slid his hands up his inner thighs slowly until Tom was twitching in anticipation. At last he took his cock in hand.

  “Missed you, buddy.” Denny sucked the swollen red head into his mouth, savoring the salty, musky taste and the feel of satiny skin against his palm. He pumped his fist forcefully the way Tom liked and his lover groaned.

  Wetting his fingers, he slid them up the sensitive skin between balls and anus, scratching lightly. He probed the puckered opening with one finger then two, stretching the tight ring of muscle and delving inside. Tom pressed down onto his fingers, moaning and clutching the bedspread.

  Denny’s erection grew even harder at the yearning sound. His cock ached and pushed against his fly as if trying to burst free. But there was satisfaction in denying his body’s needs while he brought Tom off. He enjoyed his man’s pleasure as much as if it was his own.

  He kept up a steady pace while Tom thrust rhythmically into his mouth. Denny worked his fingers even deeper, reaching for the hot spot and finding it. With a cry, Tom froze and shuddered. His cock pulsed and warm jets of come hit the back of Denny’s tongue.

  Swallowing, he released the depleted cock from his mouth and pulled his fingers from Tom’s ass. He rested his head against his lover’s thigh and looked up at his face, appreciating the blissful expression he’d put there. Tom gasped and his eyes were squeezed closed.

  “Oh, man, that didn’t take long.” He opened them and smiled at Denny. “I think I really needed that.”

  “You were wound a little tight.” Denny crawled up to lay beside him. “Here you’ve been under all this stress and I wasn’t there for you. I feel terrible.”

  “Which is exactly why I didn’t mention anything. I know how worked up you get over things you can’t do anything about. I wanted you to enjoy your show and not worry about me and my shit.” He ruffled Denny’s hair.

  “Well, at least this explains why you’ve been so quiet. It takes a load off my mind.”

  “Why, what did you think was wrong?”

  “I wasn’t sure.” Denny rested his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

  Tom stroked a hand up and down his back. “Don’t tell me you thought I was messing around with someone. God, Denny, don’t you have any faith in me?”

  Denny hugged him tighter, burying his face into his chest because he was ashamed to meet his eyes. “I know. I’m stupid. There’s too much time to think and wonder about shit like that living here in a strange city. When we’re not working, we have a lot of time on our hands. You sounded distant on the phone and I started imagining things.”

  “Work problems. That’s all it is. I swear.” Tom’s voice was calm. His even temper was one of the things Denny loved most about him. More dramatic lovers he’d had in the past would’ve blown his lack of trust into a huge drama, but Tom was unruffled. Finding steady, reliable, lovable Tom had been like finding gold.

  “How are you feeling? Stomach still upset?” Denny asked, rubbing his hand in circles on Tom’s hairy belly.

  “A little, but I’m feeling better being here with you.” Tom’s hand slipped between their bodies, unfastened his fly and slipped inside to cup his erection. “As a matter of fact, I’m feeling good enough to repay the favor.”

  “Oh really?” Denny rolled onto his back. Tom stripped him naked and crouched between his legs, hands moving slowly up his thighs. Denny’s cock throbbed in anticipation of his touch. His skin felt as sensitive as if he had a fever, and his breath caught as, at long last, Tom took him in hand.

  Folding his arms behind his head, Denny watched his boyfriend’s lips stretch around his girth, the sight nearly as arousing as the feeling of his hot, wet mouth. Denny’s eyes half-closed in pleasure, but he continued to observe Tom’s hand steadily stroking him and the partial profile of his face. Dark hair curled on his forehead. His eyelashes made two perfect arcs against his cheeks, hollowed from the force of his sucking.

  A pang of pure love for this man shot through Denny. There was no one he’d rather be with day or night, in bed or out of it, for the rest of their lives. Tom’s hard tugging sent waves of lust flowing through him. He groaned and closed his eyes as he submitted to sensation. The length of time apart, coupled with the heat and friction on his cock, soon brought him to the brink of orgasm. For eight weeks Denny had had no sexual release but his own hand. It felt wonderful simply to be touched again. And Tom knew just how he liked it.

  Denny groaned and thrust into his lover’s hand and mouth, but before he could come, Tom released his shaft and moved lower. He tongued his balls, giving them a wet, warm bath that would’ve pushed Denny over the edge if Tom’s thumb and forefinger weren’t clamped around the base of his shaft like a cock ring.

  Then he went lower still, nudging Denny to lift his hips off the bed. He ran his tongue in a teasing circle around the rim of his anus before dipping delicately inside. Denny squirmed with pleasure as Tom’s sinuous tongue played in and around the clenching ring of muscle. The tickling was torturous and the sensation exquisite. He gasped aloud and begged for Tom to finish him off.

  With a chuckle, Tom abandoned his ass play and moved back to sucking Denny’s cock, first just the head, then swallowing all of it deeply. Denny gripped Tom’s head between his hands as he fucked his mouth. The heat, warmth and wetness were too much for him to withstand. The tension in his dick built to an unbearable pitch, and then an explosion rocked him. The muscles of his neck corded as his head fell back and his body arched. He came in great, shuddering waves.

  Afterward, he subsided, breathing heavily while delicious aftershocks trembled through him. When he came back to awareness, Denny gazed at Tom, who lay beside him, head on the pillow once more.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes.” Denny smiled. He glanced down at his body, salty and sticky from sweating under the stage lights, and his dick, drooping lifelessly on his belly. “Except I could use a shower. Want to?”

  “In a bit.” Tom curled against him, nuzzling his face into his neck and laying a heavy arm across his chest. “Let’s lie here for a while first.”

  Denny was glad to do that, too. He idly combed his fingers through Tom’s thick hair. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Within moments, they both slept.

  The short nap lasted the entire night. Denny woke to sunlight pouring through the window and someone pounding on the door.

  “Hey, lovebirds. Wake up and get up! I’ve got the morning papers. We have a review already from that chick at the Trib.” Logan’s voice boomed through the door. “Come down to breakfast. Everyone else is. Oh, and nice almost meeting you last night, Tom.”

  Denny yawned and glanced at Tom, who was sound asleep. He was never easy to rouse in the morning. How he’d managed to wake to an alarm clock and get to work on time all these weeks without Denny there to prod him along was a mystery.

  “Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?” Logan yelled again. “Bill says he needs some of his stuff from the room, so he’s giving you five minutes, then he’s coming in.”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Denny growled.

  Tom grunted and rolled to his stomach, his arm flopping off the bed.

  Denny pulled the covers off him with no result. Then he lay on Tom’s back and whispered in his ear, tickled him,
kissed his neck and pushed his morning erection against his ass until Tom finally responded. “Mm. Morning.”

  Denny kissed his dark stubbled jaw and thrust slowly against him, enjoying the slow glide of his cock in the groove between his cheeks.

  Tom lifted his buttocks in invitation.

  Denny rocked against him a few moments longer, seriously considered lubing up and pressing inside that delectable ass, but stopped.

  “We’d better get a shower and dress, before Bill bursts in. I should’ve rented us a hotel room for the night. Having a roommate is like being back in a college dorm. It’d be nice if the producer footed the bill for single rooms.”

  “Spoiled only child,” Tom teased. “Try growing up with two brothers in a room half this size.”

  “Don’t start that ‘poor ghetto boy’ routine with me.” Denny tugged his hair and rolled off him.

  They shared a quick, hot shower and a quick, hot fuck against the shower wall before dressing and going down to the hotel dining room. Roused by Logan’s wake-up call, most of the cast was there. They sat at several tables pushed together and almost every face was buried in a newspaper.

  No one had expected to see a review so soon. The reporter from the Tribune must have filed her piece right after the performance for it to make the morning paper. At any rate, it was there in the entertainment section and the review was very positive.

  “‘A high-voltage performance’,” Trinka read aloud. “‘The actors exploded with energy, their sheer enthusiasm covering the outrageous lapses in logic in Claude Benson’s play. But Transitions was never a Broadway hit because of a solid storyline. The emotionally moving music is what saves this show from mediocrity, and the vocalists in last night’s performance proved every bit as accomplished as the original cast’.”

  “Not bad,” Logan said. “Listen to this part…‘The audience became a part of the dysfunctional group of friends, experiencing the comedy, romance and tragedy along with them’.”

  “Everybody’s got a newspaper, and we can all read,” Michael pointed out, trying to get Logan to quiet down and give everyone some peace.

  “Sounds even better out loud though,” Gretchen said. “Go ahead.”

  Denny winked at Tom and squeezed his hand. “This is the gang.” They joined the others at the table, squeezing in between Elena and Cara. “This is Tom, everybody.”

  There was a chorus of “Hello, Tom” spoken in ragged unison like elementary students welcoming a new kid to class.

  “Oh-ho! Listen to this.” Elena’s eyes were trained on the newspaper in her hands. “This is why Michael didn’t want Logan to keep reading. ‘Michael Lucas gave a standout performance as Aaron, playing his character’s emotional epiphany with intensity and passion’.”

  “Who’d you have to fuck to get that kind of praise?” Logan asked.

  Michael ignored his roommate and sipped his coffee.

  “Oh jeez.” Gretchen glanced at her watch and rose. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting my family for brunch. Bye, Tom. Nice meeting you.”

  The rest of the group continued to read and talk about the review and reminisce about the previous evening’s performance, while Denny and Tom ordered breakfast. The scent of breakfast meats and syrup had Denny’s stomach rumbling, reminding him of his skipped dinner last night.

  One by one the others drifted off to meet loved ones who’d spent the night in town until only Denny, Tom and Michael were left at the table.

  Michael refilled his coffee. “So, how long have you guys been together?”

  “Five years,” Tom answered.

  “Six years,” Denny said simultaneously.

  They exchanged a look, and Tom raised his eyebrows. “Six?”

  “We met six years ago in an online chatroom and talked for about three months before we finally met in person.”

  “Then we made a date for coffee,” Tom continued. “Easily escapable if he turned out to be a loser.”

  “But we hit it off right away and hooked up, that same afternoon, as I recall.” Denny grinned. “So, if we’re measuring from our first date, it’s been six years.”

  “But it’s been five years since we moved in together,” Tom said. “Almost six. I guess we must have some kind of anniversary coming up. Paper, rock, scissors, something like that.”

  “We should get matching tattoos to celebrate.” Denny covered his hand and nudged his knee underneath the table. He couldn’t get enough of physical contact now that he had Tom back.

  “No. You get a tattoo. I’m not into unnecessary needles.”

  “Aw, come on.” Denny glanced at Michael, who was getting a glazed look in his eyes at their banter. Evidently the Denny and Tom love-fest wasn’t as entertaining for him as it was for them. “Well, anyway. We’ll figure it out later.”

  “I’ll see you again when you open in Philadelphia. It’s a quick trip from the city,” Tom said. “We’ll talk tats then.”

  “Or maybe mutual piercings.” Denny waggled his eyebrows, suggesting a specific body part.

  Michael groaned and shifted in his seat. “Please don’t say that.”

  Tom glanced down at his crotch and shook his head. “Definitely not happening.”

  Denny laughed, happy to have Tom with him and everything between them back to normal. Tom was right. Their relationship could weather him being on the road for a year. After all, they were Denny and Tom. Together they could do anything.

  Scene Four: Girls’ Day Out

  It was a balmy day in the Windy City for so early in the spring. Elena and Gretchen strolled the Miracle Mile, window shopping and enjoying a break from the dark cavern of the theater and the rigorous extra dance rehearsals the cast had endured over the past few days. Elena lifted her face into the sunshine and inhaled the exhaust-perfumed city air.

  Gretchen pointed out a pair of heels in a store window. “Do you like those?”

  Elena stopped and looked at the shoes. They were red with a small bow at the back of the ankle. “Yeah. They’re cute. We can go in so you can try them on, if you want.”

  “What’s the point? I can’t afford them. I’ve got to stay focused. This is supposed to be an underwear expedition—bras, panties, socks. I can’t get distracted by shoes.”

  “Money’s tight,” Elena agreed. “Acting isn’t as lucrative or glamorous as you expected, is it?”

  “I love performing. When I’m onstage, I’m so happy and confident, but then I think about that Variety review and I start doubting what I’m even doing here.” She tapped her fingers against the glass as though to say goodbye to the shoes, and turned away.

  “Is that review still bothering you? You can’t let that shit get to you. It was just one person’s opinion. Look at all the other reviewers who absolutely loved the show.”

  “Sure, critics mostly love the show, but no other actor has been singled out as the ‘weak spot in the production’.” As they resumed walking, Gretchen recited, “‘More earnest than talented. Hamilton’s vocal range and acting ability reflect the extent of her limited theater experience. Perhaps with a few years maturity she might reach the level of adequate’.”

  Elena flinched. The fact that Gretchen had memorized the words wasn’t good. “Look, the asshole was looking for something negative to say, probably read your credits in the program and saw you as a target. Some reviewers want to sound sharp and clever and end up just plain mean. You’re doing great work. You know you are. Everyone in the cast knows it. The audience sees it every performance. So stop reading reviews. Trust me, they’ll just mess with your head.”

  Gretchen sighed and nodded. “I know. You’re right.” She halted again to gaze at a mannequin in a yellow sundress. “But it’s not only the review that’s bothering me. I miss home a lot more than I thought I would. Having my family here for those few days made me realize it. I couldn’t wait to get out of Chesterton, but now I just want to see home again. And then there’s this Jake thing…”

  “Yeah. What is ‘this
Jake thing’, anyway? Are you officially dating? Friends with benefits? What?” Elena was curious about the strange hookup between the taciturn loner and buoyant Gretchen.

  “We’ve been spending time together, but I wouldn’t say we’re a couple.” She shrugged. “We’re not officially dating, and I have no idea what’s going on in his head.”

  “I know the feeling.” Elena thought of Michael, who she couldn’t dislodge from her lusty daydreams, no matter how hard she tried. Sometimes it felt like they were friends. Other times he was withdrawn, off in his own mental world. “It’s not just Jake, sweetie. It’s fucking men in general.”

  Gretchen leaned toward her and lowered her voice as though the people passing them on the sidewalk might overhear or care. “That’s part of the problem…fucking. Or not. We make out, but…well, I would’ve thought he’d want to do more than that by now.”

  “Really?” Elena would never have guessed Jake was the type of guy to hold back from sex. “So you haven’t…”

  “No, we haven’t. We spend time together—he’s been teaching me to play guitar—and sometimes it feels like we’re getting close, then he fades on me again. I can never get any kind of commitment about meeting at a specific place or time. He just shows up when he does. It’s like having a stray dog come around. I was going to introduce him to my family, and he disappeared until after they were gone. He’s so different from the guys I’ve dated in the past.”

  “What do you want, Gretchen? Do you really like him? If you’re interested, maybe you need to be the one to take it to the next level.” Elena didn’t know why she suggested it, since she thought Jake was a little skeevy. If anything, she should be telling Gretchen she could do better.

  “The next level. I’m not sure if that’s what I want, either.” She stared at a fast food bag lying on the sidewalk then looked up at Elena. “Can you keep a secret? From everybody, even Denny?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m nervous about ‘the next level’. I haven’t technically had sex before, although my high school boyfriend and I did everything but. At the time I believed in waiting, but now… Man, I’m so ready. Jake’s an amazing kisser, and after we make out a while, I’m totally ready, but then he pulls back, which is really kind of weird since most guys push to go further. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, so how can I consider giving up my ‘V’ to somebody I don’t have a real relationship with?”

 

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