LOGIN* Jeff *
When I woke the next morning, Daniel and I were still tangled together. I disengaged myself as gently as I could. He sighed and murmured something into the pillow, but didn't wake. I used the restroom, wrapped myself in a bathrobe, and padded to the kitchen to make some coffee and collect my thoughts. Well, that had certainly been an unexpected development. Unexpected, but nice. No, nice was selling it way too short. It had been fucking amazing. Or was that just a half dozen years of celibacy talking? I ran my hands through my hair and let out a long, slow breath. No, I had been around the block a few times before Timothy and the subsequent self-imposed dry spell, and I thought I could still trust my memory. Daniel had been incredible. So what now? Would he wake up and shrug it off as just a hookup? Or think we had made a terrible mistake? I suddenly realized that our encounter might put him in a very awkward position professionally, even though backstage love affairs were hardly uncommon in our world. I kicked myself mentally for not thinking of that before. Daniel had a lot more to lose from this than I did. What do you want? I ignored the prodding from my subconscious. Probably best to let Daniel call the shots on this, I decided. My subconscious informed me that that was a coward's decision. Not at all, I protested, he should be free to make his own choices without pressure from me. My subconscious seemed unconvinced. When the coffee had finished brewing, I brought a mug into the bedroom for him. I had to admit, he looked damn good in my bed, with his reddish brown hair spread across the pillow and his long eyelashes closed tightly. I set the mug on the nightstand and kissed one smooth, exposed shoulder. That was a mistake: I was instantly hard and ready to start things all over again. The kiss turned into a nuzzle, and then a lick. Cool it, Williams. I stepped back as Daniel stirred and opened sleepy eyes. My heart jumped in my chest when they focused on me and he smiled. "Good morning. I brought you some coffee. Sweet and creamy, right?" His contented smile broadened at the double entendre, but he didn't rise to the bait. "That's perfect, thanks. What time is it?" "Eight o'clock. Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Damn it, Jeff, don't sound like you're eager to usher him to the door. Act casual, but be thoughtful and supportive... God, those lips! His mouth was still red and swollen from the previous evening's make-out session, and was practically daring me to kiss him again. "Not until ten. At least that'll give me time to shower." He sat up, letting the covers slide to his waist. I tried not to look too eager, but my eyes were devouring every inch of him he chose to reveal. "Do you mind if I use yours?" There was more than a hint of uncertainty in the question: I cursed my thoughtlessness. "Absolutely, feel free!" And now I was overcompensating, rushing around to find him a fresh towel and a spare toothbrush and razor—thank God I buy them in multi-packs, I hadn't needed to stock up for impromptu overnight guests in a decade—while he sipped his coffee and watched me. This kid had me more rattled than I could remember being in a long time. It was the vulnerability in those hazel eyes, the sense I got that the wrong move or word would send him rushing away. He finally finished the coffee, stood up, and stretched, naked in all his glory. My head whipped round so fast I swear I heard something in my neck pop. He was even more beautiful in the daylight. And though he blushed fiercely and pulled at the sheet as though to cover himself again, his cock didn't seem to mind the attention. His piss hard-on was waving brazenly at me. My own erection was tenting my bathrobe. I found myself tightening the belt self-consciously. "Thanks, Jeff." He used my first name! He took the towel from my hands while I groped in my mind for something kind and dashing and funny to say and failed miserably. I stood there like an idiot, watching his gorgeous ass disappear behind the bathroom door. I waited a good ten minutes. I swear I meant to hold out, to let him make the first move, if there was ever going to be anything more to us than one night, but when I heard the shower running and pictured the water streaming off that slender body, my willpower deserted me. I knocked on the door and opened it a crack. Steam billowed out around me. "Daniel? Would you be interested in some company in there? You know... someone to wash your back?" I know, lamest pickup line I've ever used in my life. But then he poked his head out from behind the curtain and gave me that hesitant boyish grin, and I forgot my humiliation in my eagerness to slip out of my robe and join him.* Daniel * When I woke up, my dick was as hard as if Jeff hadn't spent half the night impaled on it, milking it of every ounce of cum he could coax out of my overtaxed balls. Jeff was already up and sitting in the window seat, naked, waiting for me. He looked charming and disheveled and very sappy, a doting smile plastered all over his handsome face. I felt a matching smile crawl across my own mouth. Two and a half years on, he could still have that effect on me. I stretched languidly and, I hoped, sensuously. "Come back to bed, Jeff," I coaxed. His penis had stiffened gratifyingly at my little display—as I watched, it pulsed in time to his heartbeat—but he shook his head. "We have breakfast plans, baby," he told me. "Believe me, you make a compelling case for canceling them and spending the rest of the day in bed doing depraved things to that body of yours, but I put a lot of tho
* Jeff * We had barely made it through the front door when Daniel was all over me, sliding his hands up under my shirt and presenting his sweet mouth to be ravished by mine. Perfect. Part of my mind dimly registered that Kevin had followed orders and lit the electric candles scattered around the living room before he tactfully absented himself from the house. The rest of me was fully occupied in reacquainting myself with the man in my arms. God, I had missed my Daniel! When we finally broke from our kiss, he looked around and commented drily, "Do a little decorating while I was away?" "Just wanted to make tonight special, sweetheart," I protested. "It already is, Jeff," he assured me, "even without mood lighting. Now, are you going to ravish me or do I have to beg for it?" I grinned, and hand-in-hand we made our way to the
* Jeff * The world didn't yet know who Daniel J. Lewis was, but it was about to find out. My lover had just made his directorial debut, successfully bringing Ronald Gordon's tragic love trilogy to Austin, Texas in only its second full production. The buzz about the new talent on the scene was already beginning to spread through the theatrical community. And I hadn't been there for it. The trip from discovery to stage for Gordon's plays hadn't been terribly long, all things considered, but a global recession does tend to noticeably reduce the number of theaters willing to take a risk on an unproduced, decades-old play by an unknown author. After months of hunting, begging, and cajoling, Scott had finally lined up a prospect on the East Coast willing to gamble on back-to-back productions of Gordon's masterpiece—the trilogy Lamps by Day, Likeness of a Sigh, and A Grave Man. Scott's charm and persistence had paid off again w
* Daniel * "Are you ready for this, babe?" Jeff looked down at me and squeezed my hand. He wasn't fooling me. He was more nervous about this than I was. "If I'm not now, I never will be," I answered, smiling and, with my free hand, hoisting the potted poinsettia I had brought as a hostess gift. Jeff led me up to the wide, light-festooned porch of his mother's house. The muffled sound of voices and Christmas music drifted out to greet us. Jeff smiled encouragingly at me one last time and rang the doorbell. I was catching on to the game he was playing: The more he worried on my behalf, the less attention he had to spare for his own fears. "It'll be okay, Jeff," I whispered, hoping I was right. There was a sound of hurrying footsteps, and then Judy answered the door. Julie and a man who must have been Julie's husband were hovering close behind. "Welcome, welcome,
* Jeff *I opened my eyes to an unutterable sense of peace. I was warm and relaxed, with the pale winter morning light peeking through the curtains. Daniel was curled up next to me, breathing softly. I closed my eyes, then opened them again as I slowly realized I wasn't in my own bed, nor even in my own house.The events of the night before slowly came back. I had been in no state to get behind the wheel, and Daniel couldn't drive stick, so he had brought me to his own apartment. He had made me take aspirin and a multivitamin and drink several glasses of water to stave off a hangover before putting me to bed. It seemed to have worked; I had no headache or nausea, just some tightness behind my eyes. And that could just as easily have been from all the emotion of the last twelve hours as from the alcohol.Daniel had taken off his shoes and coat, but he was still wearing his pants and dress shirt from last night. Even rumpled and unsh
* Jeff * The discussion at the bar went on for hours. So did the drinking. Once the events leading up to the cast party had been thoroughly rehashed, Mark and Scott both unbent. Scott promised to read the scripts and get back to us by New Year's at the latest. As I had expected, the prospect of championing an overlooked talent was irresistible to him. Mark—gruff, irritable, standoffish Mark—treated first Daniel, then me to rib-cracking bear hugs once he fully comprehended where we stood with one another. When she learned the full story, Kelly was horrified at her role in letting Timothy backstage. She actually burst into outrageous death threats against him when she realized the trouble that action could have caused. Personally, I thought setting her loose on Timothy was exactly the right idea. It would have been gratifying to see the mama bear unleashed against someone I felt thoroughly deserved it. Daniel







